I was in Morocco, shopping in the Souks of Marrakesh, when a shop owner asked where my friends and I were from.
Without hesitation, my friend answered, “Canada.”
It wasn’t the first time I’d heard American students abroad use that lie. Europeans often stereotype Americans as loud, rude or self-centered — perceptions now compounded by widespread disapproval of President Donald Trump. But, this was the first time I understood the answer as something more than social convenience. It was about safety.
Just two days before we touched down in Africa, the U.S. urged citizens to leave parts of the Middle East amid escalating tensions tied to U.S.-Israeli strikes on Iran. Morocco, on the opposite side of North Africa, wasn’t under threat, but distance doesn’t eliminate impact.
While the Moroccan government has maintained strategic ties with Israel, public sentiment has been far less unified. Following the Israeli and U.S. attacks on Iran, demonstrators have protested against an Islamic country they feel connected to, reflecting broader solidarity within the Muslim world.
Even without direct involvement, Morocco faces the ripple effects — rising energy costs, inflation and potential drops in tourism. With the U.S. tied to these pressures, it risks a negative reception overseas.
While I wasn’t in direct danger, I was entering a country with a long, complex and often divided political relationship with Israel and the U.S. — one where it’s difficult to anticipate how someone might view the war, or respond to me as an American.
That unease isn’t limited to Africa. Across Europe, leaders have distanced themselves from U.S. military actions. Officials in countries like Germany and France have made it clear they do not see the conflict as theirs.
Germany’s Defense Minister, Boris Pistorius, told reporters “This is not our war, we have not started it.” Echoing Germany’s stance, French President Emmanuel Macron said at the start of a cabinet meeting on the Middle East conflict “We are not party to the conflict.”
In response, Trump publicly criticized allied leaders, straining already fragile perceptions of the U.S. abroad, and those perceptions matter. Surveys show a sharp decline in how Americans are viewed internationally in recent years, largely influenced by the re-election of President Donald Trump.
European views of Americans have shifted drastically. Approval plummeted from 61% in Oct 2024 to 25% by Feb 2026 according to EU News, with more than half of Europe’s nations now having an unfavorable view.
Just the other day, my roommates and I were greeted by a restaurant host who ushered us inside for drinks. As we began talking, he asked, “You’re from the U.S.?”
This time, we said yes — and without missing a beat, he replied, “F**k Trump.”
Our waiter went on to explain that he was from Cuba, a country Trump recently said he could “do anything [he] want[s] with” amid oil-blockade negotiations. The host went on to say that Cuba deserved to be left alone before guiding us to our table.
Encounters like these reveal how my identity as an American alone can spark outrage, even in something as ordinary as being seated at a restaurant. In these moments, I often find myself falling silent — feeling a sense of guilt, yet also aware of how little control I have over the decisions of my country.
I don’t even feel comfortable telling Europeans what I study. Every time I tell someone I study journalism I’m met with the same question: “FOX or CNN?” They treat our country’s political division as a kind of game, pulling my arm to see which “side” I lean on.
Even a customs officer at the airport, after asking me what I studied, smirked before asking me, “What are your thoughts on Ukraine and Russia? Does Russia have a right to defend itself?”
If I’m not being blamed or ridiculed, I’m being prodded, questioned and tested. There is a strange fascination with U.S. politics, with our views on international policy and global affairs.
It makes it harder to separate individual identity from national reputation — a reputation I’m not always proud of.
I’m not alone. Nearly three quarters of those living in the U.S. believe Americans have a bad reputation overseas, and 80% blame recent politics, such as the tariffs, skewing what Europeans think of the U.S., according to Upgraded Points.
Being American doesn’t mean agreeing with American policy, or the current administration. Still, it raises a difficult question: is it safe to be one?
For a long time, that question was more about perception than risk. Now, with rising global tensions, it feels more real — less about embarrassment, more about uncertainty.
Some days, it’s just easier to be Canadian.