The Day I Became A Patriot
Real patriotism isn’t blind allegiance or loyalty oaths. It’s the choice and commitment you make to become an engaged citizen.
I know the exact moment I found my patriotism. It was Wednesday, November 9th, 2016. I stumbled into the day bleary-eyed and shell-shocked. I’d gone to sleep in one country and awoke in another. One in which I felt unsafe and uncertain of the future for my children. I saw a mother in the parking lot of my daughter’s school at drop-off, hunched over her steering wheel, sobbing. Same, sister I thought and when our eyes met, I nodded in solidarity.
My world had tilted on its axis and priorities suddenly shifted. It became imperative that I step outside of the laziness of my own privilege. I could either mourn the loss of my country or I could fight for her. I chose to lace up my boots, pick up my protest sign, and fight.
But to be honest, I’m ashamed that it took me so long to become an engaged citizen of this country. Because I was born into this democracy, I’ve always taken opportunity for granted. As if it would be there for me, anytime I chose to reach out and grab it. I never considered what I might do if my homeland became a hostile one, a place where my children couldn’t flourish.
It’s a lesson immigrants to this country learned long ago. When faced with peril and difficulty, they chose America and the promise of a better life. They still do.
I remember watching one of these naturalization ceremonies in Salt Lake City awhile back. One of our friends had waited seven long years to become a United States citizen. It was a large auditorium, packed with beaming faces of every color, decked out in finery as if they were attending a wedding. I sat in the seats and watched in awe, squirming in discomfort at my own laissez-faire patriotism.
It was a revival meeting, and America was the religion. They wore their flag pins like badges of honor, openly weeping as they sung the national anthem. While the room was alive with diversity, from women wearing the hijab to refugees hailing from war-torn Africa, they were united in their passion for the United States. These earnest, hard-working folks had committed years of their life to becoming citizens and for them, this ceremony was the culmination of a lifelong dream.
On Independence Day this year, I thought I might struggle with what it means to be a patriot in these troubled times. But today, I find myself surprisingly reassured. When I look out at a sea of activists on social media, conducting sit-ins or marching in the street, I see the same enthusiasm and determination I saw in that auditorium. I think when Trump became President, we were reborn. And even when it’s difficult and we feel democracy sliding further from our grasp, we’ve chosen to fight for the homeland that we love. We’ve chosen America.
Keep fighting, patriots.
Stay in the know and subscribe to our newsletter by following us on Rantt
Follow us on Twitter: @RanttNews
Join us on Facebook: /RanttNews
Write with us: Be Heard
