On Being American

I don’t have a race. This isn’t a piece about race though, it really isn’t, it’s about being American. I remember as a child watching Schoolhouse Rock and singing along to the song about this “Great American Melting Pot.” It depicted people of all races in the metaphorical pot, suggesting that America is proudly a country built on the ideas of many nations. That people from all over the world had come together in this grand way to create “Americans.” As a kid I was so very proud that I was American due in large part to a school project we had done that required us to find out and speak about our nationalities. People from our classroom came from all over the world. Sure, for most it was their parents or grandparents that had actually lived in and experienced the different cultural habits of distant places, but they grew up learning them as they were passed down through their families. As an orphan with no one to ask and no way of really knowing, this was not a fun project for me.

So, I thought about it, I was sad about it, I felt like I was missing out. Then it hit me, why can’t I just be American? I was lucky enough to be born in this great country and that’s enough. I may not be able to say with certainty what my roots are or where the somewhere else I might be from is, but I see what that has done to others. People get filled with a false sense of pride, often in an attempt to gain some sort of privilege they are ranting on and on about other people having. It’s the very definition of hypocrisy. Some folks use their heritage and even a history that has nothing to do with them, as a crutch to try and get monetary or other benefits from the government. An American, a true American, needn’t do those things. Part of the spirit of being American is being resourceful, just think of what people have done to get here, let alone stay and make any kind of living. Believe it or not, loads of them did it through hard work and had no cell phone at their disposal, can you imagine living even a day, an hour, without yours?

To me, being an American has meant being free to make my own choices. This is truly a country where the quality of your involvement becomes the measurement of your reward. Honestly, the cards are stacked against me, I look white but there is discrimination against people who are orphans or wards of the state no matter what color they are. Of course, as a true American, I wouldn’t consider discrimination anything that should slow me down, so it doesn’t. In fact, while people screaming and yelling about racial discrimination are blatantly discriminatory toward the people they are yelling at, I rise. That’s right, I said it.

I rise above discrimination. I rise above assumption and I rise above what can only be described as the overall idiocy that prevails in almost every group ranting about race or these days gender identity as well, but that’s an entirely different article. Almost all of them end up becoming the very thing they are fighting against, fueled by ignorance. I am proud simply to be American. I don’t know where I come from precisely and to be honest, it matters less and less to me as I look around and see people who do know acting hypocritical at least and at most being aggressive, violent and dangerous. I will say this, as a person who wonders instead of knows what nationalities I might be, I look around a lot. I have been observing since I failed that project as a child for not knowing what nationalities I was, many varied cultures and to be honest, seeing the way people act, I’m not terribly interested in many of them.

Do you know your nationalities? If you do, are you a good representation of those countries and their people? Indeed, are you a good example of being human or better yet, humane?