Is going abroad worth it? If you’ve been thinking about it, this interview is for you. In this interview, Dr. Fache discusses:
· The value of losing and finding yourself abroad;
· Her own process of racialization going from France to the U.S.;
· The main differences to studying in France and the U.S.;
· Becoming a professor abroad;
· The importance of mentors on your journey.
Tell us about your background growing up in northern France. Did you experience discrimination?
Dr. Caroline Fache, Davidson College
I grew up in the biggest city in Northern France, Lille. It was diverse, but not like the diversity in the U.S. It was a working-class environment. I am first gen, the first one to go to university in my family. I grew up in a society that imagines itself as colorblind, even though there is no such thing. “Black” and “white” labels are not used in France. I grew up in that specific context.
I identify as a mixed-race person. My white family had no real connection to people of color except through me. My parents did not stay together. They had little in common. My father returned to his home country, so I grew up in my mother’s family.
They bought into the idea of a democratic and colorblind society. They are open-minded, welcoming people, but they did not give me the tools to develop a consciousness around race. My mom did not know how to do my hair. Despite that, I was happy. It was a very nurturing environment.
As a child, I did not encounter anything. I had entitlement being mixed. It became more complicated as I grew up. I did not have the critical apparatus to recognize what was happening. At the same time, it allowed me to not have the trauma that others have because I was so clueless.
Did I experience discrimination? Probably. It could have been gendered, racial, or classed. Again, my luck or misfortune was that I was so unequipped to identify it that I cruised through it.
What made you decide to go to the U.S. for the first time?
I was always interested. I just could not articulate that because I had no one to teach me. American culture was everywhere. MTV was huge. I always wanted to go since my early teens. I started learning English at 15. I thought of it as a place I needed to go because that was where I could make it. It became apparent to me that there was an “American Dream.” I did not really understand why or how. I understood it as something that was not perfect, but that there were possibilities, even if you came from working class.
In high school, one of my friends hosted an exchange student from the U.S. This exchange student was a Black gender queer person from New Orleans, and somehow, we connected on a level that no one else could. Being mixed, you are in-between races. Her being gender queer (she was not trans yet), we connected on these in-between identities.
Being French and growing up in a colorblind society, did you encounter any cultural shocks in the U.S.?
My first time in the U.S. was in New Orleans and surrounding areas for a month. It was completely different. I returned to France and something was odd. I could not figure it out. I realized I had barely seen any white people in a month! It had never happened before because growing up in Europe, there is not a day you do not encounter a white person.
I returned to the U.S. a few years later as an exchange student in a graduate French and Italian program. It was a European community. As immigrant graduate students, it was clear we were there to study, not stay.
The real shock was when I got a job and moved to North Carolina. Arriving in the American South felt like an entirely different country. That was the biggest shock even though I had been in the U.S. for seven years.
I had to learn the South’s culture. I was unintentionally offensive because I did not understand Southern politeness. Racial politics are quite different too. I have European privilege that is different for my African or Black American friends. The minute speak with my French accent, people ask “ohhhh, we are you from?” “France.” This immediately decreases some of the hostility other people of color experience.
Could you expand on North Carolina? How was it different?
I went to school at Indiana University-Bloomington. There are a few places that are Ku Klux Klan famous. It’s not like the Midwest is not also riddled with racial issues, but I never ventured out of my campus/city bubble.
The beauty of the South is that you have well-versed people with the experience of Blackness to help you through it. The U.S. is not a monolith. The Midwest seemed so far away from everything that it is was scarier than the other places, maybe not rightfully so, but that was my prejudice and cluelessness.
Coming to the South, I was not afraid. I have entitlement I inherited from my mother. My racial consciousness was created somewhere else. I get outraged, but the fear was not there.
You have experiences at different institutions. Can you talk about the differences of a French versus American post-secondary institution?
In prep school I did the Hypokhagne and Khagne routes for two years. In France, you get tracked a lot earlier. You start “majoring” at 13, whether you want that or not. It is exceedingly difficult to do another path once you have one.
I went to class and did my exams. You just follow; it is very hierarchical. Our [French] society offers a lot of protection and you do not question anything. You get comfortable. I was certainly a product of that society.
Then, I went to university. I was young in my master’s program. I had no clue what I wanted to do. I knew I could not stop school because that was the only thing I knew how to do. I also did not want to work yet.
Coming from a working-class background, you become an educator, which I am. But, if I had to teach people in middle school or high school, that would not be a fulfilling career for me.
I wanted to learn more and do something else. I was the only one who thought I could. Being a woman of color from working class, I was encouraged to become a teacher because that was enough for someone “like me.”
I escaped to the U.S. I needed a way out to define things on my own. I did not know how to go against ingrained beliefs in the society that produced me.
I did my master’s with no support. I was motivated but being first gen was messy. I got through it because I had the capacity, but it was meaningless. I have a nice little piece of paper and some skills.
Coming to the U.S. as an exchange student was beautiful. When I saw American universities, how state of the art they are, I was amazed. The library! In France, it was traditional and antiquated. As a master’s student, I needed permission to use a book. In the American university library, I was like a kid in the candy store.
The supportive faculty truly marked me. One said to me, “you always ask the most difficult questions in class.” I had never been told this. I continued my relationship with two professors who were critical in my journey. When I returned to France, one of them urged me to return to do my PhD. He said I could not waste my potential. He has unfortunately passed away, but I will never forget how he believed in me like no one had ever believed in me. The other one, a Black American woman who was a specialist with Africa, also helped me figure it all out. Their support is all I needed.
Coming from one system into the next helped me, but I loved my schooling in the United States.
As a scholar, you focus on biracialism, multiracialism, and diversity. What is your take on these as they relate to France?
It was “me search.” I was searching for me because that was the only outlet. My early years, I had no racial consciousness, no critical apparatus, not even a terminology to talk about any of that. So here I go in a world that discusses race all the time. I found myself asking: where do I fit?
In graduate school, one of my mixed friends and I were outraged because somebody dared check the ‘African American’ box for us. We tried to change it with no luck. I thought, “how dare they put me in a box?” I totally rejected the idea of being racialized in that way.
I grappled with things I did not understand about me or where I fit. Black literature spoke to me in a different way. I studied everything from French society, which is also a part of me, but it felt incomplete. Plus, how many dead white men can you be excited about?
The Black Francophone literature was alive and vibrant. I could talk to the writers. I studied myself to make sense of my questions. I wrote my dissertation about mixed-race people and representations of them.
I got it at that time in that context. Then, new questions arose. In the South, there were two categories: Black and white. I had to go at it again because my previous understanding of self and identity – mixed race, biracialism – was completely irrelevant. It was back to “you’re not Black enough” or “you’re not white enough.” Those binaries became relevant again.
France is at a crucial moment where there is a critical mass of people who are well-versed in questions about race, are theorizing about it and come to terms with this identity. What does it mean to be French and Black? What does Blackness and that spectrum represent?
Can you talk about the “construction of identity” for Black immigrants in France?
France’s complication is that you have many Black people who are one step removed from immigration. On the other hand, you have folks from Martinique, Guadeloupe, French Guyana, or the other Departement D’Outre-Mer/Overseas department.
These are different histories that come and conflict in France because institutions recognize Blackness as a monolith, but it is not. In terms of access to citizenship, it’s very different when you have a French passport and when you don’t.
People from the Departement d’Outre-Mer may think “we’ve fought, we’ve worked for this country,” which is also true for the former colonies, but they don’t have the same rights because they’re not a recognized part of the French nation.
In the post-9/11 world, fear has been weaponized against immigrants. Being an immigrant has been criminalized in an unprecedented way. The construction of identity comes with that recent legacy.
There’s also the history of colonialism. France has managed to project itself as a place where you want to be, an ideal that some people still believe in. I have met many immigrants who want to go to France for the ideals it represents.
Many people go to France with this dream only to have it shattered. Fatou Diome, a French Senegalese author discusses the experience of coming and becoming something.
Some of my siblings are immigrants from Africa. They navigate France differently. I am European. I have a multi-layered identity, but still, having French papers is quite different. I have never had that fear. Although, when I became an immigrant in America and had to go through the process of the student visa, and then the green card, I experienced that some.
Some people climbed the social ladder more quickly than me. There are things I felt I could not do because I did not have the right to expect certain things when I did not have a green card. So, I did not ask for a raise. That is what an immigrant understands.
At the same time, I had a European passport, which is a different currency. I am aware of that. I am on the margins of what other immigrants experience. I was part of the brain drain. I was tapped into because they wanted me to be a French person in this society because that is valuable.
My role has shifted as a green card holder and a parent of an American child. I am aware of my privilege. With the more radical turn this country [U.S.] has taken, I was like, “you have been an immigrant, you are an immigrant.” You must think about this in different ways. Being an outsider vs. an insider.
Can you tell us more about your job hunt and application process as a professor abroad?
It’s all about context. I was lucky to go on the market before 2008. That was a big turning point in the job market. Once the crisis happened, that changed the way people did things.
In world languages, people do their PhDs and join the professional association, Modern Language Association. It is changed a little bit, but this is where all the jobs are advertised. You search your field, specialty, and narrow it down to find jobs to apply for.
I interviewed at Davidson and by that evening or next day, I had an offer. At the time, you had to secure the candidates you wanted very quickly because there were a few of us on the market and a lot of jobs.
Because I now have the experience on the other side, as the chair of a department and chair of search committees, I have a lot of sympathy for the graduate students today. There are fewer jobs than strong, qualified candidates. The bar has been raised high.
One of the privileges I had is being a native French speaker who spoke good English. Real talk: I also sold an image and capitalized on it. I am a woman of color, but I am mixed and, therefore, very palatable. I give a certain image of the country.
I have seen some of my colleagues are a little despondent saying, “am I ever going to get a real, solid tenure-track position?” There are a lot more visiting and adjunct positions. I have seen those increase over time. I understand their concern.
In summary, it is not easy, but doable. The silver lining is that there are more and more of us, tenured professors of color, to provide support and mentorship.
Do you have any final words for those interested in living, studying, or working abroad?
Should you go abroad? Absolutely. If I had not gone abroad, I would not be where I am today. My world would not have opened in ways that I did not know were possible. There were no intellectual limits in a way.
If you are unsure of who you are, I would say get lost abroad and you will find yourself again. That is what I needed to do to become a better person and professor. Do not be afraid of being lost.