Birds of a feather

It is said that birds of a feather flock together. I believe this saying actually comes from the French, who have commonly stated since the beginning of time (or at least they say so) that qui se ressemble s’assemble, literally meaning that those who look alike associate. How English and French came to have the same saying is unknown to me. Has an English-speaking person ever thought that a Frenchman was a bird of his feather? I don’t think so. But whatever. Maybe it is simply a universal truth.

To me, what this saying has always accounted for is some supernatural, magnetic force that attracts those who have similar tastes and beliefs. When I first started meeting people at Columbia, for instance, I was appalled by the fact that every single person I would exchange words with was, in one way or another, international. It was either a Romanian who spoke English more perfectly than Shakespeare, a so-called Dutch girl who had never been to the Netherlands, or some Indian guy who spent his entire life in a boarding school somewhere in the outskirts of the United Kingdom. I wasn’t really looking for international people. I didn’t walk around campus wearing a Brazilian soccer team jersey screaming, “I want to meet someone from Greece!” I would just be sitting on the steps of Furnald when someone would sit next to me, offer me a cigarette, and then call their parents in France to tell them how great their first week at Columbia had been. 

Of course, I would eventually meet a WASP girl from Greenwich, Conn. and a cool, preppy Jersey kid, but these acquaintances were usually driven by some less-supernatural force, such as habitat proximity or academic correlation. I don’t recall ever meeting an American just as I was roaming around campus or sitting in a far corner of Butler. And I’m not saying I have nothing in common with these people, or that I had to try harder to become friends with them. They have become very close to me and are people with whom I really share passions. But that instinctive, mystic force that magnetically pulled me toward other international kids had no influence in my association with them.

Today, one year later, as I engage in social gatherings with my fellow second-year colleagues, I notice that this phenomenon I experienced wasn’t exclusive to me. A natural division occurred between the kids in our class, and today I either go to the movies with Smith, Johnson, and Jones or meet for lunch with Ivanov, Patel, and Muller. It seems that birds of a feather really do flock together.

Columbia’s commitment to student diversity is second to none. Different voices are heard throughout our campus and there is not one activity performed at the university that isn’t in some way affected by the diversity of our student body. However, social interactions seem to fail to follow this commitment, as the natural force of qui se ressemble s’assemble hinders this amalgamation and leads to group segregation.

I am today an inhabitant of the United States of America. I might be an immigrant, but still, I live here—this is where my life is. Therefore, I am compelled to learn the American way of living and ought to investigate the culture of this country. I certainly don’t come all the way to New York at the end of every summer to live segregated, in a bubble of familiar ideals and beliefs, interacting only with those that, like me, are aliens. I came here to grasp the ideals of this country and its people, to become part of this world. And I definitely can’t achieve this without Smith, Johnson, and Jones.

Similarly, I expect that the American student at Columbia feels an urge to take a dip in the melting pot of mixing cultures that is served to them every day. My great preppy friend from Jersey—remember him?—certainly has, and I doubt that he regrets doing it. One year after an awkward, brief introduction we exchanged by the doorways of our rooms in Furnald, he has learned more about Brazilian culture, society, and soccer than many of my Brazilian friends will ever know. Although it might be easier for a fellow American to get his obscure Kerouac references, and I rarely am able to sit through a Yankees game with him, the learning possibilities we offer each other are endless.

People make friends in different ways, so I’m not going to suggest you start a conversation with that weird girl from Contemporary Civilization the next time she’s standing in line behind you in John Jay. But magnetic forces of the universe notwithstanding, there will be plenty of opportunities at Columbia to meet people of different feathers. So whatever happens, just make the effort. After all, it is also said that opposites attract, right?

The author is a Columbia College sophomore.