Pledges of Allegiance

The world, my world, is flexing. My tribe is on the march. We, feminists, punchers of Nazis, lovers of art, we are ready. Just try to knock us down.

We are not in Madang. Throughout this entire country, are we here? There was no Port Moresby march. This is a Christian country. Abortion is illegal and not discussed. In politics, this is an apathetic country. Corruption is as widely spread as the stains of spit betel nut juice.

“Wait and see.” That’s the media line that has filtered via church websites to the mouths of men and women here who want to talk to me about my angry country. “Give him a chance.”

Yesterday a security guard at work asked me to write down the words of America’s pledge of allegiance.

“In the colonialist days, I think, you fought?”

“Yeah, we told the British to go raus.” I smile. I like this narrative. I don’t mention the Native Americans. Why complicate things. I think about Hamilton and how we refine our origin story by making it more inclusive, which is way too much to explain. But I can’t resist from adding,

“Not everyone likes to say the pledge of allegiance though.”

“Oh?”

I try to think of the most straightforward reason.

“Not everyone likes the part about ‘under God.’ You know, our country is for people of all religions. And some religions have more than one god, like Indians. So they don’t want to say that — ‘under God.’ “

He nods. He is not impressed. This is a Christian country. This is a country of many cultures and few multiculturalists.

He asks me to come back some time and write down the words for the national anthem.