Older Generations
In the early ’90s, I attended an American high school. I’m Danish and I’m adopted from Thailand. There was a Danish exchange student who was a white native Dane. Americans always fell silent and would stare at us if we were speaking Danish to each other.
It was as if they couldn’t fathom how two people who look so different could speak the same language that none of the Americans around us spoke or understood. Other Danes rarely assume that I won’t understand them today.
That used to be a thing with older generations who would loudly backtalk me for several minutes before I’d interrupt them and defend myself in fluent Danish (of course, because I am Danish) with as much respect and dignity as I could muster!
Twice in the US — once in a California valley town in a Target where some Danish tourists were looking for camping gear and once in Yosemite at the foot of Vernal Falls who were talking about trip plans for the rest of their grand CA tour — I surprised these Danish tourists by suddenly helping them in Danish.
I’m very short and I looked like a little kid even though I was in my teens. The other Danes would look around for the voice but not at me until I repeated myself right in front of their faces. Both times it was groups of senior tourists. ladywholocker