Category: Life
I am not proud to be an American. Before you send out for ropes and tar, let me say that I am certainly not ashamed of it, either. What I am, is lucky. Very, very lucky. I was born here, and thus aquired all the rights, priviliges, and responsibilities included through no effort of my own. And that, folks, is why I'm not proud. You are familiar with the saying "pride goeth before a fall" and the fact that pride is one of the seven deadly sins? Tht's because such pride is often misplaced. Pride is something that is earned. I can no more be proud of my happy accident of birth than I could be ashamed of another. You can't be proud of being born rich, or white, or smart, or good-looking any more than you should be ashamed of being born poor, minority, average, or homely. It's nothing you've done, it was given to or thrust upon you.
I'm proud that I graduated college with honors while working 60-some hours a week the last two years of school. I'm proud that my little garden looks nice and the plants didn't die (tho truth be told, that's not all my doing either. Nature leant a big hand with the weather). I'm proud when I get a good checkup at the dentist or when the vet says my puddy-tats look great. I'm proud of some of the pictures I've drawn, songs I've sung, and things I've said. I'm ashamed of very little, actually. Maybe that I gained too much weight when I know better, have not answered some letters/phone calls soon enough, probably should have a better job by now. But I'm working on those, and after all, it's myself I have to answer to.
I'm proud that I vote, but sometimes ashamed of my government. I'm proud to uphold the principles of democracy, even though I'm not proud to live in one.
Being an American was something that was given to me. For what ever reason, my ancestors came here seeking something better, or more, or just different. Or maybe running from their own shame. I don't know. I do know that I'm not responsible for their actions, but I am thankful. I didn't have to pass a citizenship test. Noone makes fun of my accent. I didn't come here in the cargo hold of a boat, or through a tunnel in the desert. I didn't have to climb a fence, jump ship and swim for shore, or "overstay" my VISA. I didn't have to escape the persecution of an unjust government, and wade through miles of red tape and years of bureaucractic fumbling and indecision. I didn't have to learn a new language and a new culture under pressured circumstances in a place where many of the "natives" don't want me. I am lucky, not proud.
For me, as for most of us, America was a fortuitous accident. I'm only 3rd generation on my mother's side, so new that I can go back and visit relatives in the "old country" and we may actually know some of the same people. Some siblings stayed, and some went. Some eventually did both. They speak English, thank heavens. Because, insulated as we are, I speak nothing else. Maybe I should be ashamed of that.
The point is that both pride and shame are earned, not given. I refuse for the fathers' sins OR virtues to be manifest upon the children. If you want to be a proud American, do something that's worthwhile. Build a house with Habitat for Humanity, pick up litter off the street, VOTE, teach someone to read, BE A CITIZEN, NOT JUST AN INHABITANT. Then you'll have something to be proud of.
