No Longer Proud….
But EMBARRASSED to be an American.
So-called “identity politics” seems to be spinning the world off its axis. Yet “identity” is a funny thing. To look at me earlier today — in airport-wear of black leggings and boots topped with a bulky white sweater — an observer would probably identify/categorize me as (in ascending or descending order?):
- Female
- White
- Young (not young-young but not old either)
- Tall (for a girl) and (hopefully) slender
All these identities have to do with body type, of course; but is that all I “really” am — a body? A body to don with outerwear that makes further statements about my identity, e.g., the pussyhat (not a hijab!) that a friend knitted and that I hurriedly threw in my suitcase before catching a cab to the Zurich airport. My national identity, who knows? — you can’t tell for sure just by looking at my body.
Now in London, I stood for what seemed like hours at the Heathrow security checkpoint for non-EU passport holders. (It’ll be an even more horrible wait once Brexit actually happens.) When I finally got to the head of queue and the security officer asked for my passport, that’s when it happened:
I blushed. I suddenly became aware that I was embarrassed to be holding an American passport. I would have been prouder, much prouder, to be a Syrian refugee with no passport at all.
Sure, there had been times in the past, living as an expat in Europe, when I had wanted to disassociate myself from some particularly loud and obnoxious tourists who no doubt held U.S. passports as fellow countrymen. But now with Trump as President, all those obnoxious characteristic have only been amplified:
Boastful. Greedy. Materialistic. Impolite. Pushy. Inconsiderate. Misogynist. Racist. Ignorant. Arrogant. Pathological Liar.
They say every country gets the leader it deserves. That’s why I’m no longer proud to be an American.
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