The Transatlantic Tug of War

Like many my age on the famed social media hellhole- sorry, platform of TikTok, I’ve been somewhat following the weekly highlights and dumpings on Dancing with the Stars – and no, not just because of Robert Irwin. Possibly more embarrassing, I was a fangirl of the major cultural phenomenon known as ‘The Secret Lives of Mormon Wives’. I’m not the only one following the goings-on in the ballroom – my housemate watches videos of the dances while eating dinner, shouting out her own scores as if they can somehow be received through a screen. But the cultural pre-eminence of the ballroom dancing show got me thinking about our humble British Counterpart- Strictly Come Dancing. I have such cosy core memories of seven-year-old me’s only concern on a Saturday being home in time to see what dresses the pretty ladies would be wearing. But I haven’t been tuning in these past few years. I don’t recognize the celebrities and frankly have better things to do on a Saturday night. This does make me a little sad; nostalgia is a vice. But the disparity between two iterations of the same concept, separated only by an ocean, is to me emblematic of a bigger issue.

The world is obsessed with America. Politically, I get it-it’s hard to look away from a trainwreck, and we should be aware of the goings-on of arguably the global superpower. Elections are closely followed, and more Brits know more about the occupants of the White House than those in charge of the EU. I mean, do you know who the president of the European Commission is? But culturally, this obsession may be less warranted. America seems to always be a step up from our tiny island. This is in no way me disparaging British media- we have some of the best musical artists in the world, and I personally believe that British comedy is second to none. A call to my mum back in London is almost always accompanied by the faint sounds of Downton Abbey on the TV in the background. But let’s turn back to the ballroom- a dancing show has managed to retain relevance in America in a way that has evaded us over here. Just a few weeks ago, iconic long-time presenters Tess Daly and Claudia Winkleman announced their departure from the show. Of course, careers shift and grow and this should in no way be so shocking to me, but its particularly striking when I think about Claudia’s success on The Traitors, a show with a global fanbase. There is a historic tradition of celebrities, despite making their debuts in the British indie scene, turning to the US once their career prospects have expanded. Daniel Kaluuya, despite being from Camden, an area I would tentatively and hopefully unpretentiously refer to as a cultural hotspot, relocated to LA for greater opportunities following the commercial success that was Get Out. Or there’s James Corden, who captured hearts as the loveable goof Smithy in Gavin and Stacey, but unlike his co-stars from the cult show, rarely makes an appearance on our screens anymore. This career move is interesting to me as his entire brand seems so specifically suited to a British audience. His humour, style, and aesthetic sensibilities scream England in a way that reminds me of the early 2000s sitcoms I grew up with. He couldn’t be a Hollywood heartthrob but would fit right in an episode of Outnumbered. Perhaps most culturally significant, Prince Harry and Meghan Markle moved to California after leaving the British Royal Family. As their highly publicised conflict made clear, a significant factor for this departure was friction of traditional upper-class British rules clashing with Markle, a Black woman with a career in the public eye.

The obsession goes further than that, though. Many Brits view and discuss the United States as a monolith, this massive cultural entity that wears a cowboy hat, voted for Trump, and goes nowhere without an AK47 strapped to its side. One of my housemates visited Florida over the summer, and she brings it up often. They way Americans have this and have that. Earlier today, she mentioned how Americans have a special tool for breaking up ground meat in a pan, and I had to wonder if that truly was something that only existed in America. Another friend, after holidaying in Cancun, wouldn’t stop complaining about the number of Americans there- ‘They’re just all so obese and rude! You know how Americans are!’.

Yes, I do know how Americans are.

 I suppose I should admit that I have a funny sort of soft spot for the states- I spent two summers as a camp counsellor on Long Island and as such some of my best friends currently live in America. This makes me a little protective of the world I got to be a part of briefly- a world of CVS runs and nights on the beach and frozen yoghurt trips on a Friday night. And yes of course you could say that this is another symptom of consumerism, and I wouldn’t really know what to say in response. It’s a fraught time right now- globally, nationally, and regionally. I wonder if we turn to comparison to make ourselves feel better in the most fragile times. The grass really is always greener. Americans also serve as a bit of a laughingstock- references to their crises with obesity and gun violence are a bit too commonplace in our ‘humour’. But then that just makes me sad- how can it truly be justified to reduce a country to its darkest moments and most cartoonish stereotypes in order to make a comparison more favourable. How can a land of 240 million residents be simplified to the key characteristics of obesity and gun violence?

It’s all very well analysing this phenomenon with the academic rigor I should be putting into my Modern Literature assessment, but I arrive now at a crossroad. I worry that campaigning for a return to British culture comes off the wrong way when I see the headlines telling people to go back where they came from. The more pressing issue is that our idea of culture, identity, and nationhood has been totally eroded as America becomes a global nation. Due to the investment in and quality of American media, it simply has a wider reach than that of other countries and as such is perfectly poised to transmit idealised suburbanite fantasies of the USA globally. We grew up with the images of basketball hoops in driveways and hanging out under the bleachers- thanks to Taylor Swift for that one. And don’t even get me started on the quintessential American college experience- I find myself mindlessly dreaming of rushing Alpha Beta Phi (made-up name, don’t sue me) on a grey Tuesday morning while I watch a drug deal go wrong from my Hyde Park bedroom window.

The obsession becomes more understandable though, and the cause is culture. When American popular culture has been transmitted so globally and so intensely over the last century or so, it loses its position as a nation and instead becomes a cultural monolith, with its individual states, regions, and subgroups losing their agency to be seen only as a tiny component of the corporate consumerist colossus. The cure is then culture, as well. In order to break free of this incessant comparison, we need to prioritise our local, communal culture. Watching movies and reading books set in smaller towns, focusing on real issues and real people, will always be more culturally enriching than a Hollywood blockbuster. More than that, you get to learn something as well. This is in no way me saying we need to back the British, just that we need to become more selective in the media we consume as it’s not just about entertainment anymore.

I suppose when I say I miss Strictly, what I’m really missing is the simplicity of being seven years old and believing culture was something shared on a Saturday night, that it was people I might have seen in Sainsbury’s that weekend talking about their rise to fame on Eastenders. As an only child of immigrants, there was a lot of cultural exposure I feel like I just skipped out on- my Croatian mum saw no merit in a child watching Eastenders or the X-Factor, but Strictly was something we could all watch together. It was something I could talk about in school on Monday and finally feel part of the conversation. The world is bigger, more interconnected, and harder to define as an adult. I have access to almost infinite media and it is overwhelming- I return to Friday Night Dinner on my laptop while I study and re-read the books I adored as a child. Maybe next week I’ll watch Strictly then. 

Only if I have nothing better to do.

Words by Maja Wasielewski