To Finally Be French: Lessons in French Life

Kristin celebrates her 30th wedding anniversary and wonders if she’s a native French person now.

My husband and I recently celebrated our 30th wedding anniversary, and I find myself wondering, after three whole decades, am I finally French? After all, I no longer snack, take long showers, or use a clothes dryer – habits I left behind in America when I came to France all those years ago. But times have changed, and so have I, especially regarding my obsession with becoming French.

I used to count the days until I could boast, “I’ve lived half my life in France!”. Surely time and, with it, the immersion in the culture et ses moeurs would make me a native, if not une française de souche.

Or maybe a French passport would do the trick? I made a few half-hearted attempts to apply for French citizenship but gave up when asked to provide my grandparents’ birth certificates. Trop compliqué! But if I lacked the Gallic gusto required to wrestle with the bureaucrats, then how could I even pretend to be French? Au fait, they say you’ve got to fake it till you make it, and I admit to trying to come off as a Frenchie on one occasion (and one only). Thank God we didn’t have smartphones back then. Now if only I could erase from my mind the image of a drunk girl trying to impress a guy at a party!

Although my half-witted plan backfired, such awkwardness did keep me single for years – clearing a wide path for my future fiancé. For me, part of “finally being French” meant speaking the language of Molière at least as well as Jodie Foster, while sober. But no matter how many years I’ve lived here, I cannot beat Jodie’s formidable language skills. Worse, my American accent gets thicker by the year. When people remark about my diminishing language skills, I tell them, “C’est la nostalgie de mon pays“.

That’s my excuse, and I’m at peace with it. But am I finally at peace with being just a girl from the Arizona desert? Mon Dieu, how exotic that sounds to me now! And it did, as well, to a certain Frenchman, who wouldn’t want me any other way, least of all a ubiquitous femme française. In my daily life, I’ve come to appreciate the blend of both cultures. I love to cook regional recipes like la tarte tomate, but chocolate chip cookies are a favourite to bring to a dinner party. I now know how to behave at a French soirée but will end the evening early, as we do back home. This fusion has become my identity, more genuine than trying to fit a mould of either culture alone. Ultimately, being “finally French” isn’t about losing my American roots but embracing this unique cultural mélange. It’s about feeling at home in France while carrying a piece of Arizona in my heart. So, am I finally French? Not by definition. But I’ve created a space where I belong, no passport required.

FRENCH VOCABULARY

• ET SES MOEURS = and its customs
• UNE FRANÇAISE DE SOUCHE = a native Frenchwarman
• TROP COMPLIQUE = too complicated
• AU FAIT = by the way
• UNE FRANÇAISE = a Frenchwoman
• LA FEMME FRANÇAISE = the French woman
• LA NOSTALGIE DE MON PAYS = the nostalgia for my country
• MON DIEU =my God
• LA TARTE TOMATE = tomato tart
• LA SOIRÉE = evening party
• LE MÉLANGE = mix or blend

From France Today Magazine