"I learned to iron the enthusiasm out of my sentences before releasing them into company. This is what I think of now as enthusiasm-laundering, aka the practice of running a feeling through several ironic cycles before presenting it as a considered position."
This is one of the things I detest most about British culture and being a Brit (or half of one). I don’t think it’s just a London thing. It's beaten into you psychologically and sometimes physically; a process that starts in the first year after moving from primary to comprehensive school, when the insecurity and cruelty of early adolescence imbues a Lord of the Flies-esque environment.
Suddenly, any exclamation of enthusiasm, creativity or ostentatious pleasure is subject to ridicule, and unwritten hierarchies of power are asserted. Because everyone is desperate to have friends and fit in, the sense of innocent exuberance needs to be locked away in the dungeon of cynicism and apathy.
Maybe this is exacerbated by the fusion of shit weather and the class system as a whole, which underpins this socialisation. Certain events, usually sporting, are moments of temporary hiatus. The 2012 Olympics are a good example. The misery-mongering in the lead-up to the event dissipated and was overtaken (in the main) by a swelling public sense of national self-love and excitement. This happens if the England football team performs well at a tournament. But when they invariably crash out, the disappointment metastasises immediately into pessimism, and even violence.
At the risk of making this party political, and acknowledging this was a lifetime ago, but it was back in post-97 Cool Britannia, that was the last time I remember that there was a national renewal of cultural self-confidence. But that ended with thorough disillusionment.
Maybe I’m over-stating it, but having Spanish heritage, I saw a big difference in the dynamics of self-articulation in my Iberian cousins and their social circles. And I was always very jealous.
In many ways, being an adult in the UK is an exercise in finding people with whom you are happy to share a sense of freedom. But after decades, it seems of doom treadmill - post 9/11 war on terror, financial crash, austerity, Brexit, COVID-19, the current political malaise, technology turning us simultaneously into dopamine zombies and economically obsolete – it is hard to see where any form of positive reimagination of British identity comes from.
Apologies, that got a bit out of hand.
Tough morning. And I realise that the above is perhaps feeding the very thing I’m decrying.
Great read as always, and congrats on the British citizenship. And London in the spring warmth is wonderful.
May I just say how absolutely beautifully you write. This was such a joy to read! The paragraph, 'I made myself pretty for London' slayed me -- and gives voice so perfectly, so... gracefully, to those complex and huge feelings and experiences of never really fitting in and/or being out of place.
Congratulations on your ability to articulate the inexpressible, managing to evoke emotion without sentimentality and many congratulations on your citizenship too!
I've been to London twice myself and the aggression exhibited by British pigeons remains a source of casualty in my nervous system. I'm hoping to have built up a tolerance by the end of trip number three, but that's a tertiary milestone; certainly compared to this. Congrats, Sophie!
I've admired your writing for a long time, and this might be one of my all-time favourites of yours! Reading this, I could feel (and have felt) everything you described so viscerally. I moved here 15 years ago, and I'm now a fellow dual citizen too. That ache of never fully belonging in either place never goes away, but it lessens every time I feel more at home here. Thank you for articulating and sharing this beautiful piece.
Congratulations. Do they test you on your tutting and complaining about the weather? ;-)
When I saw the post, the first film that came to my mind is Passport to Pimlico, an old Ealing comedy set during WW2 about a part of London that discovers it is really part of Burgundy. It's free to view on Plex.
Congratulations! As someone in the same boat as your friend with the pints – born and raised in the city – I often experience the diametrically opposite phenomenon: that so many people move to this city by choice or necessity that they forget there is such a thing as a native Londoner.
Well written it reminded me of so long ago. When I was in college I spent a semester abroad in Japan. Upon arriving I realized I was all sorts of out of place. I could feel myself being seen. I spent a decent part of my young adult life trying not to be seen. I wanted to be invisible again. No one treated me poorly, no one spat at my feet or anything but there was a "look" where in my head I was screaming I wish I was invisible. Another student let me know, it's "how I was dressed more than anything". Frankly my attempt to blend in was non-existent. It wasn't something 24 year old me considered. Such an eye opening experience and it's one I think a lot of Americans fail to experience. Young me expected the world to allow me room to breathe, where in some spaces you can breathe so long as it's not loud, or too different a breath.
It's funny you say that about Japan. I was there for a couple of weeks a few years back and I noticed feeling "looked at." It never felt malicious or ill intentioned, though. More of a natural curiosity stare, if that makes sense. When I caught it I usually smiled and gave a polite nod which was usually reciprocated, though there was the occasional look away and walk faster reaction, too.
One of my favorite pictures from that trip is one of my wife standing in the middle of the railcar, purple-tipped pigtails in full view, settled in amongst a sea of men in white, collared shirts looking away or side eyed at her.
"I learned to iron the enthusiasm out of my sentences before releasing them into company. This is what I think of now as enthusiasm-laundering, aka the practice of running a feeling through several ironic cycles before presenting it as a considered position."
This is one of the things I detest most about British culture and being a Brit (or half of one). I don’t think it’s just a London thing. It's beaten into you psychologically and sometimes physically; a process that starts in the first year after moving from primary to comprehensive school, when the insecurity and cruelty of early adolescence imbues a Lord of the Flies-esque environment.
Suddenly, any exclamation of enthusiasm, creativity or ostentatious pleasure is subject to ridicule, and unwritten hierarchies of power are asserted. Because everyone is desperate to have friends and fit in, the sense of innocent exuberance needs to be locked away in the dungeon of cynicism and apathy.
Maybe this is exacerbated by the fusion of shit weather and the class system as a whole, which underpins this socialisation. Certain events, usually sporting, are moments of temporary hiatus. The 2012 Olympics are a good example. The misery-mongering in the lead-up to the event dissipated and was overtaken (in the main) by a swelling public sense of national self-love and excitement. This happens if the England football team performs well at a tournament. But when they invariably crash out, the disappointment metastasises immediately into pessimism, and even violence.
At the risk of making this party political, and acknowledging this was a lifetime ago, but it was back in post-97 Cool Britannia, that was the last time I remember that there was a national renewal of cultural self-confidence. But that ended with thorough disillusionment.
Maybe I’m over-stating it, but having Spanish heritage, I saw a big difference in the dynamics of self-articulation in my Iberian cousins and their social circles. And I was always very jealous.
In many ways, being an adult in the UK is an exercise in finding people with whom you are happy to share a sense of freedom. But after decades, it seems of doom treadmill - post 9/11 war on terror, financial crash, austerity, Brexit, COVID-19, the current political malaise, technology turning us simultaneously into dopamine zombies and economically obsolete – it is hard to see where any form of positive reimagination of British identity comes from.
Apologies, that got a bit out of hand.
Tough morning. And I realise that the above is perhaps feeding the very thing I’m decrying.
Great read as always, and congrats on the British citizenship. And London in the spring warmth is wonderful.
Solidarity!! I know you understand the feeling and what I'm referring to. Here's to being loud and excitable ✨✨✨✨✨✨✨
May I just say how absolutely beautifully you write. This was such a joy to read! The paragraph, 'I made myself pretty for London' slayed me -- and gives voice so perfectly, so... gracefully, to those complex and huge feelings and experiences of never really fitting in and/or being out of place.
Congratulations on your ability to articulate the inexpressible, managing to evoke emotion without sentimentality and many congratulations on your citizenship too!
🥹🥹🥹🥹 i'm screenshotting this comment oh my god - thank you! it means the world to me that my words were able to touch you this way x
I've been to London twice myself and the aggression exhibited by British pigeons remains a source of casualty in my nervous system. I'm hoping to have built up a tolerance by the end of trip number three, but that's a tertiary milestone; certainly compared to this. Congrats, Sophie!
Thank you!!! Also when you come back, I'll show you the all the British pigeon ways 🙂↕️
I've admired your writing for a long time, and this might be one of my all-time favourites of yours! Reading this, I could feel (and have felt) everything you described so viscerally. I moved here 15 years ago, and I'm now a fellow dual citizen too. That ache of never fully belonging in either place never goes away, but it lessens every time I feel more at home here. Thank you for articulating and sharing this beautiful piece.
Aw, can’t express how much this comment means to me. Sending you so much love ❤️
Ahh. Certified Copy is my favorite movie. I think about it every day. Thank you for this personal reflection of its true meaning and of your struggle…
LOVE the film!! Of course, pleasure 💕
Great writing. I loved this post but feel the need to apologise on the behalf of London.
Haha aw please don't ❤️ At the end of the day I've learned to love it which is why I'm sticking around. Thanks so much for your comment x
This is so brilliantly written. You possess a sensitivity that feels so precious.
Thank you so much 🥹🥹🥹❤️
What a beautiful text! ❤️
thank you so much ☺️
Congratulations!
Thank you so much Denise 💕
I'm new here. I know what you're talking about. I like the way you say it. Cheers.
Thank you so much, Rasha. Welcome!!
Thanks for the read. Great piece.
Pleasure ❤️
Ah wow that’s so cool, huge congrats Sophie!
thank so much Ed ahhh!
Congratulations. Do they test you on your tutting and complaining about the weather? ;-)
When I saw the post, the first film that came to my mind is Passport to Pimlico, an old Ealing comedy set during WW2 about a part of London that discovers it is really part of Burgundy. It's free to view on Plex.
Great recommendation! Haha I actually think there's a question around the climate in the test yes
Congratulations! As someone in the same boat as your friend with the pints – born and raised in the city – I often experience the diametrically opposite phenomenon: that so many people move to this city by choice or necessity that they forget there is such a thing as a native Londoner.
That verrrrrrrry true. Hadn’t thought of that! And thank you 🫶🏻
Well written it reminded me of so long ago. When I was in college I spent a semester abroad in Japan. Upon arriving I realized I was all sorts of out of place. I could feel myself being seen. I spent a decent part of my young adult life trying not to be seen. I wanted to be invisible again. No one treated me poorly, no one spat at my feet or anything but there was a "look" where in my head I was screaming I wish I was invisible. Another student let me know, it's "how I was dressed more than anything". Frankly my attempt to blend in was non-existent. It wasn't something 24 year old me considered. Such an eye opening experience and it's one I think a lot of Americans fail to experience. Young me expected the world to allow me room to breathe, where in some spaces you can breathe so long as it's not loud, or too different a breath.
Beautifully said. My thoughts exactly!
It's funny you say that about Japan. I was there for a couple of weeks a few years back and I noticed feeling "looked at." It never felt malicious or ill intentioned, though. More of a natural curiosity stare, if that makes sense. When I caught it I usually smiled and gave a polite nod which was usually reciprocated, though there was the occasional look away and walk faster reaction, too.
One of my favorite pictures from that trip is one of my wife standing in the middle of the railcar, purple-tipped pigtails in full view, settled in amongst a sea of men in white, collared shirts looking away or side eyed at her.
I am ashamed of my people