I wrote the following on June 23, 2020; I have been silent here for many years for practical reasons and this is what broke the silence:
So I’ve obviously had some more time on my hands these days. More time means a bit more reflection, but also much, much more in these last months to reflect upon. Probably a little more than my psyche can handle at the moment. My brain is still trying to catch up from the rewiring of becoming a parent, the overstimulation of moving to a new country, and the pragmatic juggling of starting a new job. But here I am, and you attend the things that are boiling over.
Being an American feels more challenging than usual. It is my home, a place where my family was saved, where I had the opportunities to thrive. But I have never felt “American,” as the stereotypes and microaggressions would remind me, multiple times on a daily basis. I am an accidental American, a citizenship that came from the obligations of war. I have always felt like an American on the fringe. An outsider.
And perhaps this is the crux of it: The US is full of Americans that make up the character of America, yet they are treated as outsiders. We love to tell the American story of self-invention and opportunity, one often told with an immigrant/outsider protagonist. But how we lay claim to these stories while keeping the hero at arm’s distance? Is this not hegemony controlling the conversation?
What happens when something you identify with—as complicated as that might be—is having an identity crisis of its own? America is fighting for itself, again and violently. I feel that impotence of being an American overseas at this moment.* I am also so overwhelmed with all the shouting that I feel paralyzed. Black lives. Police brutality. Slavery. Equality. Justice. Confederate flags. Riots. Rape. Guns. I can’t breathe.
*Of course, I am not. I have all the privileges to express: I have the freedom and the voice to join in the demonstrations; I have an absentee ballot to cast my vote; I have a bank account to make donations.
Posts
