An awkward silence followed his question and then he added: “I never asked why. I thought you had some feelings about America. I figured you had your reasons.”
But something has shifted within me during the last eight years, and it goes beyond witnessing the election of the nation’s first black president. President Barack Obama and others have redefined what it means to “love America.”
I’m seeing the birth of a new brand of patriotism that finally speaks to me and other nonwhite Americans.
I bring up Obama and patriotism now because so many people are reflecting on his legacy. The Obama era is being described as a prelude to the “browning of America” when racial minorities become the majority in the future.
Yet I think it’s the prelude to something even more. The definition of what it means to love America will expand. The browning of America won’t just change how the country looks in the future; it will change how Americans express patriotism, because racial minorities bring different histories to this notion of America as the “land of the free.”
I know I do. I’ve long felt ambivalent when people tell me I should love America. I wonder what America are they talking about. Should I just be happy, as one white man once told me, that my ancestors were rescued from the jungles of Africa and brought to the greatest country in the world?
I hear people talkin’ bad,
About the way we have to live here in this country,
Harpin’ on the wars we fight,
An’ gripin’ ’bout the way things oughta be.
An’ I don’t mind ’em switchin’ sides,
An’ standin’ up for things they believe in.
When they’re runnin’ down my country, man,
They’re walkin’ on the fightin’ side of me.
I didn’t think about it at the time, but all my childhood heroes were white men carrying guns, typically with American flags waving in the background. I vaguely knew about people like the Rev. Martin Luther King Jr., but they didn’t excite me. Singing “We Shall Overcome” didn’t compare to storming the sands of Iwo Jima. I thought there was no greater courage than to go to war for your country.
Then I came across a group of college students who taught me about another type of courage.
When patriotism becomes dangerous
This was a dangerous type of patriotism, not a polite demonstration or mild civil disobedience. It was the kind that could get you fired from your job, shunned by your community, beaten or killed.
“Dissent is the fuel for the engine of progress,” said Young, a history professor at Temple University in Philadelphia. “Inertia is built into institutions. Things don’t change unless people push for change.”
How Obama legitimized another brand of patriotism
Most of us were taught in school that dissent is patriotic. Dissenters are venerated, but usually only after they’re dead and neutered by time. During war, economic uncertainty or massive social change, the “love it or leave it” form of patriotism rules.
Yet something different has happened during the Obama era. He has helped legitimize the dangerous type of patriotism. He’s done this through words and deeds.
No other president has talked about patriotism the way Obama has. It’s a type of patriotism many nonwhite Americans can finally see themselves in.
“What greater form of patriotism is there than the belief that America is not yet finished, that we are strong enough to be self-critical?” he asked.
He called members of disparaged groups — gays and lesbians, Mexican immigrants — American heroes. He praised the “hopeful strivers who cross the Rio Grande” and “the gay Americans whose blood ran on the streets of San Francisco and New York.”
He also put women, not white men in powdered wigs, at the center of the America story. He cited a 19th century former slave who became an abolitionist and champion of women’s rights, and another civil rights activist from the 1960s whose fiery eloquence forced America to face the brutality of segregation in the Deep South.
“Look at our history,” he said. “We are Sojourner Truth and Fannie Lou Hamer, women who could do as much as men and then some.”
The Selma speech was Obama’s answer to critics who said he didn’t believe in American exceptionalism. He just redefined it, and as the country gets browner, I suspect this form of patriotism will become more accepted.
Greg Jaffe, another commentator, compared the speech to Lincoln’s “Gettysburg Address.” He said it “rewrote American history, putting America’s rebels, protest leaders, misfits, artists and immigrants at the center of the story.”
“Selma is the first great presidential address to speak to that America and a speech only our first black president could give,” he wrote.
Again, the same concept — troublemakers past and present — are true patriots, he said.
“This is the place to understand how protests and love of country don’t merely coexist, but inform each other,” Obama said. “How men can probably win the gold for their country, but still insist on raising a black-gloved fist. How we can wear an I Can’t Breathe T-shirt, and still grieve for fallen police officers.”
This form of patriotism isn’t new. It’s the kind that people of color have had to develop because white America’s narrow definition of patriotism didn’t fit.
O, let America be America again-
The land that never has been yet-
And yet must be-
Patriotism in unlikely places
Never has this type of patriotism been expressed so forcefully from the highest office in the land. Yet I’ve watched it spread to ordinary American life in so many different ways.
It is a patriotism that insists on seeing the good, bad and ugly of America’s past.
One reason I didn’t stand for the anthem is because I didn’t feel this country had ever officially acknowledged its original sin, slavery. There was a museum that commemorated the European holocaust but there was none to acknowledge the African-American slave trade.
But the African-American museum in Washington has changed that fact. Slavery is dealt with head-on. On display is an actual slave cabin, a receipt for a teenage girl slave, and an iron neck-ring forged for another slave.
And at a White House conference last month hosted by Obama, the federal government agreed to pay $492 million to 17 Native American tribes for mismanaging their funds and natural resources. The Obama administration has now settled at least 100 tribal claims, some over a century old. Cherokee Nation Principal Chief Bill John Baker said Obama “is the best president for Indian Country in the history of the United States.”
Beyond Washington, there are signs that Americans are thinking differently about patriotism.
When Muhammad Ali died earlier this year, he was treated like an American hero. Yet he was once one of the country’s most hated dissidents because he refused to fight for his country. Most of the tributes that followed his death pinned his greatness not on his boxing ability, but on his willingness to defy the government for his religious beliefs.
Today another black athlete is provoking fury for being “un-American”: Colin Kaepernick, with his refusal to stand for the national anthem. But compare the response Kaepernick has received to the scorn and professional exile that Ali endured.
Two weeks after Kaepernick’s protest, his jersey became the top seller in NFL sales. Other professional athletes followed his example. So have high school football teams throughout the nation. A professional soccer player, Megan Rapinoe, also took a knee while the anthem was played, later explaining that “being a gay American, I know what it means to look at the flag and not have it protect all of your liberties.”
Kaepernick even got an impassioned defense from an unlikely source: a former Navy SEAL.
Ventura recalled that he vetoed a bill when he was governor that would have required the recitation of the Pledge of Allegiance in every Minnesota public school.
“You know why?” he said in the video. “Because governments should not mandate patriotism. … Who mandated patriotism? The Germans in the 1930s.”
Americans are accustomed to public figures taking public stands on controversial issues. But for change to really take root, it has to occur away from the spotlight — and come from someone you’d never expect to see it in.
Which America do you believe in?
With the city still on edge, a pastor decided to deliver a sermon. His name is the Rev. Loran Livingston, and he is a white, conservative evangelical. He grew up during segregation in a rural area of North Carolina that was dominated by the Ku Klux Klan. He believes in the inerrancy of the Bible and is a military buff who collects guns and knives. The police officer who allegedly killed the man, sparking the protest, is a member of his church.
One could have expected Livingston to give a hellfire sermon condemning the protesters in Charlotte, but the pastor said something different.
He condemned the violence and praised the police officers who took an oath to protect citizens. He also defended the officer in his congregation who was at the center of the protests, saying he did his sworn duty and “you will not find a finer young man.”
But he also said that many of the protesters had “genuine grievances,” and that many Americans didn’t want to admit that there is a racial “caste system in the nation.”
“And then they turn on TV and they see someone who has no clue saying make America great again,” Livingston thundered, “and the people are saying, ‘When was it ever great for me?'”
But maybe it could be one day. That’s the hope that has helped so many Americans in the past who felt like outsiders. How does society accommodate this new form of patriotism that incorporates the good, bad and ugly of America, but still looks forward to something better in the future?
Maybe I’ll never stand for the anthem. But for the first time as an adult, I can find the words and examples to explain why I think America is exceptional.
You may prefer the “love it or leave it” America. But I, and I suspect many others, believe in another America — “the one that never was and yet must be.”