As a self-proclaimed glutton for attention, there are few things more enticing than participating in a parade. Born for the spotlight but not given any discernible talent, I jump at any opportunity to be in front of an audience. ESPECIALLY if it involves outfits and a theme.
So when my cousins were like, “Get in loser, we’re decorating this golf cart and driving in a 4th of July parade in small town Texas,” I was like, “In.”
There was glitter. There were wigs. There were inflatable bald eagles.
I waved like the Queen while we rocked out to Party in the U.S.A. and Springsteen. We sang Proud to be an American and threw beads and candy at small children the way the founding fathers intended.
It was a blast.
I had a bit of shame about how much fun I had, which got me thinking about how “hating America” is en vogue at the moment.
I come from a family of immigrants; many Republican, many progressive. Only one vegetarian.
They love America. Which you’d think is odd, since the media would have you believe America does not love them back. I asked them why they still love it, given *waves hands.* They said the American Dream, which I promptly reminded them was a dream, and when you wake up to reality, it’s pretty bleak.
My grandfather used to say Americans were confused on this point. He argued that the gift of America is the dream.
We are responsible for constructing the reality.
He would talk about how democracy is not something you are given, it’s something you fight for. It’s something you defend. It’s something you demand. It’s something you cannot take for granted. Where America will fail is when it starts thinking it’s entitled to things it had to fight for and it stops fighting for the dream.
I can feel my hesitation in admitting to you I felt proud at that parade. Because I also felt afraid. Not abstractly, viscerally. The way you feel when you’re a minority in a space and your body does the math before your brain does. Underneath that, I saw my own bias percolating through my perception and feeling as though American Pride meant I was condoning a very specific white Christian nationalism, beers, guns, and Kid Rock.
That is one American Dream. It’s not mine.
It was a strange experience to be having a blast at the same time I felt slightly treasonous to my value system. And a little terrified of being shot.
I don’t know how to reconcile any of it. All I know is I’m as American as anyone else, so my American Dream is equally valid. Equally American.
And of that, I am very, very proud.
Margo
PS: I feel this same slight terror and a blend of feeling treasonous to my value system in leftist circles.
I thought about what I might feel like wearing Red, White, and Blue at a No Kings rally and that crystallized the problem to me. When we decide that “America” is one thing – you can see clearly where we’ve gone astray.
The demand from All The Groups that I ascribe to their specific set of beliefs or face violence (or ostracism) continues to be a problem on all sides. All sides proclaim to represent a belief in better, but only their version of better.
I don’t think anyone believes they represent the devil. We all think we’re advocating for the good guys. I think this too.
Where I think we have a problem is in that fear of speaking up, that fear of being proud, that slight tension that says “I need to agree with you – or else.”
There is perhaps nothing more truly American than dissent. And if we lose that. We’re lost.
