There’s a Reason

When people get especially critical of America, its politics or policies, its history or culture, I like to remind them . . . there’s a reason:

If “(i)n America, it is traditional to destroy the black body – it is heritage”(Ta-Nehisi Coates), why do millions of black Africans begin a perilous journey across the Atlantic to Central or South America, then walk thousands of miles just to get to the US border? Did they fail to get the word?

When “bigotry against Hispanics has been an American constant since the Founding Fathers”(Marie Arana in the Washington Post), why do millions of Hispanic people of every nation and religion abandon home and hearth–and sometimes carrying their children on their backs–jump on moving trains just to get there? Like Rick in Casablanca, were they “misinformed?”

If America is a xenophobic land of increasing anti-Asian hate crimes, why do wealthy Chinese families insist on sending their prized only-child or grandchild to expensive American universities?

When America is the home of fervent anti-Islamic religious bigotry, why did Afghan Muslims risk certain death to cling to the wheels of American transport planes as they evacuated Kabul?

If Canada is all that America claims to be in terms of kindness, opportunity, and freedom, and there are nine Americans (roughly) for every Canadian, why did more Canadians move to America than vice versa in ninety-nine of the last one hundred years?

One can find ethnic expat enclaves in many countries, but why is America the only place you can find so many different, thriving ones? London may have several representing the ties of empire and Commonwealth, but there’s a little Mogadishu in Minneapolis and Koreatown in Los Angeles. Burmese Christians created Chindianapolis in Indiana, and there’s a little Albania in the Bronx and Little Ethiopia in DC. San Jose has a Vietnamese community, Edison (New Jersey) has an Indian one, and Miami has Haitians, among a Cuban diaspora. Ethnic immigrants binding together is a common international phenomenon, but in America it becomes a point of pride and celebration.

It is easy to find videos from Europe featuring “man-in-the-street” interviews where locals decry the cultural crassness, the violence, the bigotry, the political divisiveness of America. They sit perched on a park bench, perusing their iPhone, eating McDonald’s, wearing jeans and a English language print t-shirt, with their ethnically homogeneous friends. Actions speak louder than words, non?

America has so many faults. We pretend inequality is only because of effort. We lionize superficiality and physical attractiveness over performance and moral courage. We idolize the individual, but deep down inside, we know none of us deserve deity status. Our schools are a mess, our infrastructure is crumbling, we spend far more than we have. Our leadership on all sides is more interested in scoring political points than getting anything done.

And yet they keep coming. Why?

Because America is about an idea. It’s about a possibility. It’s about an opportunity. Even when it falls short–and it sometimes does–the promise of a better life in a better place remains. And it does get better: sometimes intentionally, sometimes by accident, often slowly. That possibility is something worth trying for, even worth dying for. And so they come.

Some Americans forget just what a special privilege it is to be born American. They see all those faults I listed (and many others) and they think “burn it all down” or “start over” or “replace it with . . . ?” They have the luxury of outrage. Don’t listen to them. They are people who are so myopic they can’t see the truth staring them in the face.

Yes, America is flawed. Always has been. But its promise has always been so much greater than its flaws, even when it was a land of slavery and rich, white, male suffrage. And throughout a checkered history, it has consistently acted on that promise: changing laws, changing customs, fighting wars (even a civil one), and providing a chance, an opportunity, to live a better life. Whoever you are. From wherever you come.

That’s something to celebrate. Happy Fourth of July!