Suzy Hansen is an American journalist and contributing writer for The Times Magazine. She spent more than a decade living and working in Istanbul, where she wrote her recent book, Notes on a Foreign Country: An American Abroad in a Post-American World, which been widely hailed by the New York Times, the Guardian, the Los Angeles Review of Books, the Atlantic, The Washington Post and more. Part memoir part historical nonfiction part investigative journalism, Hansen grapples with her country’s insidious international influence, unveiling dark truths about American exceptionalism, imperialism, racism, and her own identity.

I spoke with Suzy about what it means to be an American, a journalist and a woman—both abroad and at home.

What was the gestation process like for Notes on a Foreign Country? What were some obstacles you faced as a foreigner and as a woman?

I moved to Istanbul in 2007, and began thinking about a book about how America looked from abroad very early on—maybe after a year of living there. Some friends pointed out that my sharpest observations often had to do with how I was learning to see my own country. But I couldn’t bear the idea of having moved to Turkey to become a foreign correspondent and ending up writing about America! So I shelved the idea for a while until I realized that I could write about both places in an interesting way—that a more complex book about identity and perception and empire was the most honest story I could tell about my years abroad.

I was living in Turkey throughout the writing of the book. Istanbul is a huge city and not unlike many huge cities; you get lost easily there. For that reason, after all, I didn’t feel particularly conscious of being foreign there; I mean, I will always be a foreigner in that culture, but you fall into a routine at some point. Interviewing Turks is always a challenge because I can’t be sure if they will be honest with a stranger—but then again who is? I think that’s a question about journalism, which is why I often struggle with the form.

On the other hand, I felt my identity as a foreigner and as an American more strongly than my identity as a woman. That has changed somewhat now that I have worked through my American identity myself; I almost feel as if I am experiencing Istanbul more now as a woman in the last three years than I did previously. But I haven’t really had any problems particular to Turkey—just the typical ones women face everywhere.

To question your country—its ideologies and systems of governance—means to also question your own identity, sense of self, ideas of what’s right and wrong. And it sounds like for you that questioning is very much an iterative process—one that involves unpacking great literature and philosophy as well as the mundanity of every day life. Can you talk about what that feels like, this sort of quest for truth that involves almost an unraveling of the self? What did you grab onto, where did you ground your feet when your national identity was pulled out from under you?

I still wasn’t very sure who I was when I moved—I was 29, and still kind of unformed. I did begin to sense though that this was not a personal identity crisis only, that there is a national element to this, and that the changes the country had gone through—and the crimes it had committed abroad—had thrown that national identity into turmoil. When you leave I guess you start to question where it is you came from and what that says about you. And yes once I started pulling the threads, it was like an unraveling, and I think it’s okay to say that that’s a painful process—to realize all that you didn’t know about yourself, to discover darker things in your past. But it’s also exhilarating, as all learning is.

What is the field of journalism like as a woman? What is it like being a woman journalist abroad?

Ha, I think the field of journalism is worse than being a woman journalist abroad! If you listen to two female foreign correspondents complaining, the topic will 99 percent of the time be about New York (if that’s where the publications are that they write for.) I think you never escape wondering if aren’t perceived the same way men are, or if you are being excluded from some boy’s club, if they get a higher word count than you do, etc. But right now, everything in journalism is hard for everyone because it’s shrinking. And that feels very scary.

You talk a lot about freedom as an idea that has been codified and sold back to us as citizens of the U.S. Do you think the notion of freedom is being brought to bear in a new light amidst today’s resistance?

Well, I think people are still fighting for rights they haven’t gotten, and the problem is—especially when talking about African Americans—is that the notion of American freedom is itself flawed because slavery was enshrined in America’s liberation so the question becomes, what kind of freedom did anyone ever have in the first place? But there is also a more natural kind of freedom that I think the individual is primed to strive for and that kind doesn’t necessarily need to have been corrupted by American propaganda.

I understand why people sometimes ask whether endless freedom really makes anyone happier but we can’t even have that discussion until the country no longer systematically oppresses people.

Your book captures the seemingly inarticulable experience of being abroad and the broadened scope of perspective and understanding that follows. For people who aren’t able to leave the country, how can they come to understand United States?

I am not sure, but I think reading—reading is always my answer. Read academic books, novels, essays, reportage, poetry by foreigners. When you begin to understand foreign cultures better, you can see your own country more clearly. Books and films can do this for you. And read a lot of history.

What advise would you give to women and girls who are aspiring to become journalists and authors? 

I am a broken record: read! Also, try and find a mentor because everyone needs one to help guide you through this business, it’s too hard otherwise. Be prepare for getting knocked down a lot; as someone once advised me: run your own race. Don’t compare yourself to others.

On a more practical note, I would say that journalism and magazine writing is going through a tough time right now. If you want to be a writer, it may be better to get a day job and work on writing books. The publishing industry is fairly healthy. And it still has something very few industries do anymore—serendipity. You never know what can happen.