A surprising fact about French people is that they are French. The people I knew through my daily activities at school and at home happened to be more French than most; that is, they were from families who had lived in France for as long as anybody can remember. These peoples’ roots come from a mixture of the Gauls, the Romans, and also Germanic tribes, but everybody is commonly referred to as French now.

I can say the same thing for myself, my family, and many of my friends – we are all Americans. My family has been in America for several hundred years, and after that amount of time one of my ancestors ceased to be a Scots-Irish, British, French, or German immigrant, and was actually recognized as an American. So therefore I am American.

To the French, however, I was not just an American. I was Irish, also. Maybe a little bit Scots. No, I was not just American, I was something else. Although I am as much of an American mutt as the next American, these French people felt the need to qualify me as something else, as a type of European who had fled and forgotten to keep with the customs of the home country.

Although I am pleased to know my ancestry, I did not like that the French forced me to be a member of the Scottish or the English people. American is American; that’s the beauty of our country. There are no questions asked, even if someone has an accent; every person who lives in this country becomes American after a time, whether they have citizenship or a green card. Meanwhile, second- and third-generation North Africans are still classified as foreigners in French society.