Stereotypes are bad, boys and girls. They reduce entire groups of people to simplistic and often inaccurate generalizations. And yet...stereotypes are sometimes true. At least, that's the conclusion I've come to after spending five months in France. (Disclaimer: Not all of these stereotypes are negative. And sometimes it's stereotypes about Americans that have been proven true. A lot of us are obnoxiously loud.) It's not like every French person walks around in berets belting out "La Marseillaise," but they have confirmed some of my preconceived notions about them. Here's an examination of five common stereotypes about the French, and my take on their veracity:
1) Scarves are a mandatory fashion accessory.
When I was younger, there was an anthology of scary stories that my parents dragged out every Halloween. One of these stories told of a young man named Alfred who fell in love with a girl named Jenny. Jenny had the whimsical habit of wearing a green ribbon around her neck, a ribbon which she instructed Alfred never to untie. The two eventually got married, had children, and lived a long and happy life together, during which Jenny never undid the ribbon. Finally, as an elderly Jenny lay on her deathbed, she told Alfred to untie the ribbon. He did so, and the last sentence of the story reads: "And Jenny's head fell off."
I am now convinced that this story--besides being severely traumatic--was written by a French person. Because in Paris scarves are not just fashion accessories; they might as well be surgically fused to the wearer's neck. The type and color are immaterial, as is the fashion of tying them. What is important is that Parisian men, women and children never leave the house without a protective piece of fabric wrapped around their necks.
2) They love black.
Paris is a city that lends itself to descriptions such as "classic," "elegant" and "timeless." And they have the color palette to match. Parisians do wear color, but generally as an accent to a black, gray or beige ensemble.
Parisians in general are very fashionable people and I accepted long before my arrival here that I would never fit in style-wise. So I refused to make any concessions when it came to de-colorizing my wardrobe. I walk the streets every day dressed in a green jacket and bright blue or yellow scarves, carrying a green purse. If I want to be kind to the people on the Metro, I wear my black shoes. If I want to give someone an aneurysm, it's either leopard-print or blue snakeskin flats.
These choices often cause French people to stare at me and say things like: "What ees wrong with you, you walking kaleidoscope? Are you color-blind? Deed a shamrock throw up on you zees morning?" But I will not be deterred. I agree that black is classic, timeless and slimming (important in a city with so many pastries). But why restrict yourself to one shade when there are so many other colors to be worn? Sorry France. You are classy, but I'm not assimilating on this one.
3) They are fueled by a powerful combination of bread, coffee, cheese and wine.
One of my favorite things about Paris is that, despite being a big city, it is full of independent businesses and people who love to patronize them. Sure, there's a McDonald's, Subway and (inexplicably) KFC within one block of my apartment. And the local Monoprix is always packed. But there are also at least three boulangeries, a butcher shop and countless cafes within the same area.
I honestly do not understand how there are enough Parisians to fill all of the 52 million cafes in the city, but they're always full. And every evening at about 6:00, there is a line of people out the door of every boulangerie, all waiting to buy their evening baguettes. My host family eats a cheese course every night at dinner. And wine is incredibly cheap; you can get a decent bottle for under 2 euros (not that I would know anything about that, Mom and Dad).
I think this adherence to certain food staples, just like a devotion to black, reflects some central tendency of the French. At some point 800 years ago, they found the foods, colors and architecture that work for them, and they've spent the rest of their history perfecting them. So while they are not quite the cultural melting pot that the U.S. is, no one can beat them when it comes to a perfectly browned baguette, or a wheel of camembert.
4) They all smoke.
This is largely true. Of course there are exceptions (my host mother doesn't, and my 13-year-old host sister has, thus far, resisted temptation), but I've met many more smokers here than in the U.S. Walking past any Parisian high school at lunch hour involves navigating through the clouds of smoke produced by French 14-year-olds.
It's not that Parisians don't understand the consequences of smoking. Au contraire. Packets of cigarettes are labeled with bold, black proclamations of "Fumer tue" (smoking kills). And smoking is not allowed in restaurants and other public places. And yet, I would give most of my professors about three seconds after the end of class before they are outside on our center's terrace, lighting up a cigarette.
5) They are rude, Communist, cheese-eating surrender monkeys.
Absolutely true.
No, actually I think that the French get an unfair rap from the rest of the world. It's true that many people here are not overtly friendly. But I attribute this to reservedness, not rudeness. Privacy is highly valued here, and there is not the same sense of general cheeriness that pervades American society. And it is worth remembering that Paris is not France (in fact, even many French people hate Parisians). Paris is a big city and just like any big city, the people are stressed out, busy and not in the mood to smile on the Metro.
I have had a few encounters with brusque or unfriendly people. But many more of my experiences have been positive. And I haven't seen much evidence of anti-American sentiment. When people find out I'm American, they are often very interested in talking to me about our health care system and political process. They ask my opinion of Paris and Parisians. They compliment my French, and thank me for coming to study in their country. A friend and I were once even called "adorables americaines," two words many would be surprised to hear spoken by a French person.
I realize that my experience has probably been made considerably easier by the fact that I speak French. And I don't discount stories of rudeness or snobbery experienced by past tourists. But the French are pretty much like any other group of people: some are friendly, some are jerks and most are a little bit of both.
They do eat a lot of cheese, though.
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