This article is not about Donald Trump. It's not about his delusions of grandeur, lack of political qualifications, or his paucity of policies (all displayed during the GOP debate this week). Rather, it's about how after only being in Australia for less than an hour, the representative from my university who came to pick me up from the airport started cracking jokes about Donald Trump. It's about how some of the first Australians I met said, "So ... Donald Trump, huh," not 30 seconds into our initial conversation. And it's about how every time I'm confronted with questions about why this man is succeeding in the land I call home, I find myself at a loss for words.

You could say it all started a few months ago. I have family all around the world; name a country, and I probably have an aunt or an uncle that lives there. So it's not too out of the ordinary for me to make airport runs to pick up international relatives. But back in April, as I was driving home an uncle who was visiting from England, I was hit with a question that left me dumbfounded: "So, if someone is mad at you, can they just come and shoot you?" Mind you, this came entirely out of the blue, with no relevant prior discussion. And I genuinely didn't know how to respond. How was I going to explain the intricacies of constitutional interpretation, the Second Amendment, states' rights, and the gun lobby to my British perriyappa? It was at that moment that I realized the extent to which foreigners view America negatively.

Who's to be blamed for this? After all, it still seems that the rest of the world likes American people, even if we can be a bit loud. And the international popularity of American-exported music, movies, and fashion seems to suggest that the rest of the world doesn't mind our pop culture, either. So why is it that American government and politics seem to be viewed so poorly overseas? It's partially because it's always easier for international news outlets to focus on the shocking, headline-worthy stories coming out of the U.S. rather than the more everyday positive ones. But it's also because, as a large, wealthy, heavily populated, Western nation with the most powerful army in the world, the U.S. causes the international community to constantly try to prepare for the worst possible scenario of American government.

But should Americans care about what the rest of the world thinks of us? After all, why do the opinions of non-Americans matter in American politics? Well, in our modern, globalized, post-nuclear society, where diplomacy is the ideal, much of the world has come to a mutual agreement that large nations must rely on each other and remain relatively stable lest we find ourselves in a state of perpetual World War III.

And the current situation in the United States certainly does not seem to be giving the rest of the world much hope. To many people in places like the United Kingdom and Australia, it seems that America is thrusting itself back into the 20th century, trying to reclaim its Cold War-era role of spreader of blind democracy. Yet, while we Americans tend to look down on nations that are run by rich, overzealous, hyper-nationalists, we can only hope that we should be spared such international disdain should the situation arise.

Ultimately, what does this mean for Americans like me, who are living abroad? It means that we will continue to be the face of everything that is going on in our country, whether it's good or bad, and whether we agree with it or not. From racism, to gun violence, to higher education, we will have to simultaneously explain and qualify everything that's happening back home all while trying to remain proud Americans. And should things only get worse in the coming future, I guess we'll have to learn to deal with that, too.