I am going to Canada in two weeks and I'm dreading it.

Not because I dislike Canada. Quite the contrary, in fact. It's a beautiful country. A little cold but not overly. They have the friendliest greeters in every store and the most adorable accents. I always look forward to Tim Horton's coffee, the cheese bread at Jack Astor's and that very yummy Swiss Chalet sauce.

And our friends. I do miss our friends.

But every single time I venture up North, it's exhausting. Every person I meet, who is not American, feels as though it is their duty - no, their right - to within five minutes of finding out that I'm American to let me know how horrible America is and how stupid Americans are.

This happens every single time I go to Canada.

At one point, it angered me. Not because I think America is the best nation of Earth (that would be very self-centered of me) - but because it's my home. And, I don't care where you hail from, your home always has a special place in your heart.

I am held responsible for anything the American government does regardless of whether or not I have any power to control it.

Which, for the record, I don't.

As with any government in the world, the people never have as much power as they are led to believe. We may be a democracy - but that doesn't mean we are not swindled, deceived, manipulated into believing that we have this illusion of power - when really we don't.

Honestly, what gives us freedom is law and money. People are afraid of being sued and people are afraid of losing money. Those are the two motivating factors for political change.

Jake and I have gotten into so many arguments over the United States. Not because I don't agree with what he says (don't tell him that though) but because he makes these blanket statements like "All Americans are ignorant" or "All Americans are stupid" ... and expects this not to affect me.

It's as though he thinks that because I'm American, I'm inhuman. And that he can he say anything he wants and I'm not expected to be hurt by it.

Well, he's wrong. It does hurt. Alot.

When I tell him that he's believing what the media has told him and not looking beyond the nationality to see the humanity of the American people ... his defense is "Well, the rest of the world hates Americans too."

As though that justifies it.

I'm not a big supporter of what "the rest of" anything thinks. Often, majority rule has led to horrible conclusions. Need I mention Nazi Germany.

Also, I don't hold the people responsible for the actions of its government. I don't hate Chileans because of Pinochet or Italians because of Mussolini or Germans because of Hitler.

Don't hate me for Bush. Believe me, I hate him just as much as you do. If not more because I have to live in a country that he leads. Which is very, very scary. I don't agree with his policies, with his stands on issues or with just about anything that escapes that man's mouth. Just so we're clear.

Wherever I go, in whatever country I travel to, I always try to respectful, courteous and mindful of the culture. I believe what makes this world such an amazing place is its diversity. And that we should appreciate the differences in all individuals.

I remember we took a trip to Mexico a couple years ago. We stayed in this resort that was very un-Mexican. All the food was North American. All the music was North American. Hell, even the pictures on the walls were North American.

I became very annoyed. One day, while sitting at the bar drinking my very North American margherita, I tried to talk to the bartender in (very poor) Spanish.

I didn't speak to him in Spanish to mock him but because I was in Mexico dammit. I should attempt to speak the language.

He smiled at me. This big, huge smile. He was so pleased that I made the attempt. That I tried to acknowledge his culture.

I told him that I wanted to know Mexico - that's why I came here. If I wanted to go to the beach, America has plenty of them. I came to Mexico to see a different culture. Not my own. And this disappointed me.

Jake tells me when we travel abroad to tell people that I'm Canadian. Otherwise, everyone will hate me and bad things might happen to me.

Basically, I should lie about who I am to make other people more comfortable. Hmmmm ... I'm not really a big fan of that.

I can't understand this though. And it hurts me. It hurts me because people are willing to shut me out - to never get a chance to know me because of where I was born.

That's the same as saying I can't sit next to you because I'm black. Or I can't go to your school because I'm gay. Or I must be a terrorist because I'm from Afghanistan.

It's all just very stupid to me.

It's as if the world is this big high school. And I'm the little kid with big glasses and a speech impediment that noone wants to be friends with.

It's a very lonely place to be.

Last year while in Canada, Jake and I went to a New Year's Eve party given by friends of friends of ours.

Noone knew me. And everyone was drunk. I sat on the couch and began to watch the ball drop in Times Square on TV. Keep in mind, I was being very quiet and minding my own business. This very drunk but seemingly very nice girl sits next to me and starts up a conversation with me. A very pleasant conversation in fact.

Then she asked me where I'm from ... and I told her I'm American.

The next thing I know this girl starts telling me how all Americans are idiots and bad drivers and loud and ignorant and obnoxious.

I found this very amusing because, of the two of us at the time, the loud, ignorant and obnoxious one, was the Canadian. But I didn't see the point in objecting.

She made up her mind about me and there was nothing I could do to change it.

Not that I'm saying that all Canadians are loud, ignorant or obnoxious either. Because they most definitely are not. I hope that goes without saying. (Even though I said it anyway).

My friend Lisa said most insightful thing to me that night. She's Canadian thru and thru and has the cutest Canadian accent to prove it.

It was at this party - after an entire night of drunken people slamming me about being American - I went upstairs into the coat room, near tears.

I don't think people realize how exhausting it is to constantly be told how stupid, loud, obnoxious and ignorant you are ... especially when you're being none of those things at the time.

Well, Lisa came upstairs and could tell I was upset. And asked me what was wrong.

I said "I feel like, wherever I go, people are beating me up for things I have no control over. I feel as though the world thinks it can make me feel like shit for being American - and it's okay. Because I deserve it. As if I had a choice over the country that I was born and raised in. It's a tough spot to be in. I can't argue because then I confirm their opinion that I'm self-centered and egotistical. But, when I stay quiet, they don't stop. They just keep going and going. And they will continue to believe they can bash and deride a complete stranger for no justifiable reason. I'm stuck between a hard place and an even harder place. I don't want to be ashamed for where I'm from. I don't think anybody should be made to feel ashamed for their culture. I'm being punished and I didn't do anything wrong."

Lisa, who has never said an unkind word to me in the three years that I have known her, said: "You don't need anyone's approval. Let them think what they want to think. You don't have to change their minds - and you probably couldn't anyway. Because of their stereotypes, they will never get to know what a wonderful person you are.It's their loss not yours."

So, maybe the point of this rant is, before you judge someone on the basis of anything superficial - bear this in mind:

We are all human beings. Unique and extraordinary in our own right. Our identity is not defined soley by our country of origin or ethnicity or genetics or socio-economic background. We are a culmination of many various parts. To isolate one component of an individual and make that one aspect represent the whole is doing a severe injustice to that human being.

Because of your nearsightedness and bigotry, you might be missing out on one hell of a person.

And they might be missing out on you.

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