I avoid geopolitics for obvious reasons, but when living abroad, they do not always avoid me.

Previously, I have discussed the wonder of sitting around a language practice (språkkafen) table with immigrants to Norway from all over the world. It has been a marvel to see that people from Japan to Pakistan and Sudan to Iceland all have vastly more in common than not; in fact, the only obvious difference is that they happen to have been born in different countries.

Sometimes, though, for me, there can also be small elephants in the room. Just last week, I sat next to a man from Yemen and a woman from Iran. Admittedly, I felt a bit sheepish when I introduced myself as American, knowing that the United States has a long history of bombing Yemen, including quite recently, and that war with Iran is hinging on the outcome of current negotiations. There was a brief moment of discomfort after the Yemeni man asked me to repeat where I was from. In an attempt to preempt any weirdness, I jokingly said that we leave geopolitics out of Språkkafe. He smiled kindly and said, “Of course we do!” The subject instead turned to the beauty of Socotra, a Yemeni island that I was recently introduced to on YouTube.

The woman from Iran was actually the second Iranian I had met in as many months. In a different språkkafen, I sit next to an Iranian man every week. When we first met, we spoke privately during a break about the importance of separating government actors from regular citizens. This perspective has been accepted and gone unsaid in every språkkafe I have ever participated in, and I regularly share tables with citizens from countries throughout the Middle East.

My intention is not to litigate the United States’ foreign policy but to highlight that its conduct does affect its citizens when they are traveling, something that I felt in full force last week. For the very first time, common acceptance could not find any footing, and the elephant in the room finally stomped on me.

While volunteering at the Bergen International Festival, I was tasked with approaching spectators and gathering emails for a survey. I began my spiel with a man who immediately recognized my accent and asked where I was from. I responded that I live in Norway but that I am from the United States. He shot me back with a harsh look and told me that he would not speak to anyone from the United States. At first, I thought he was joking, but quickly realized he was very definitely not. He began speaking rapidly in Norwegain and I caught only part of what he said. I heard moved and bomb, bomb. I gathered that he had moved from a country that the United States had or was bombing. I responded by pointing to my chest and saying that I have nothing to do with that. He shook his head, completely disregarding me, and repeated again that he would not speak to anyone from the United States. Then, he turned his back on me and walked away. My eyes filled with tears. It was the first time that I had felt unfairly prejudiced because of where I was from. It felt awful and unfair, and I could see the anger in every pore in his body. It felt like he saw me as different, as evil, as an enemy.

After reflection, I realized that though most can separate citizen from government, there will undoubtedly be some who cannot or will not. There will be some who see citizens as complicit, and maybe there is some truth to that, or maybe we just happen to be born where we are born. Perhaps it will never happen again, or maybe it will begin happening more frequently, but I cannot let these moments of disconnect take away from the countless more moments of connection that are sure to come. After all, the best way to predict the future is to look at the past.