I am not planning to go to the American “national day” event
at the swanky hotel tomorrow night. I went
last year. There were huge slides of American landmarks projected on the walls,
lots of information about studying abroad in the US, heavy security. I wore my
little black dress, shook the ambassador’s hand, enjoyed the shrimp and grits
and the wine, but ate too much cake.
I think it’s stupid to designate a random national day for a
country that already has a real one, just because the real one happens to fall
in the summer when most expats have fled the heat and most of the host
country’s residents are fasting all day. I would almost go just for the
spectacle of it but is it worth leaving the kids on a school night, knowing
they won’t get to sleep until too late and then play catch up for the rest of
the week? Is it worth the snarky grouchiness that’s likely to make me just want
to lurk in the corner the whole night, making rude comments? I’m in a cynical
phase about this Qatar place and a room full of suits, cocktail dresses,
immaculate thobes (and cufflinks, you must never forget the cufflinks) and
identical hairdos will not help.
That’s ^ all true and it’s all a big cop-out, an
excuse not to challenge myself. Patriotism has always been a struggle for me. I was raised with these posters in the kitchen:
and
 |
| (I admit I never quite understood this one- why did we want them to have a bomber at all?) |
At summer camp in the 80s we
sang songs about civil rights and celebrated community activism- we learned
about Harriet Tubman, Victor Jara, and Karen Silkwood, we fasted on Hiroshima
day and, one summer, declared the land a nuclear free zone. I’ve taken part in small anti-war marches in my home state and a massive gay pride parade in Washington DC. My kids and I showed up (by mistake, we’d just wanted to glimpse the president as he drove to a fundraising dinner) at a demonstration in San Francisco against the Keystone pipeline but stayed to learn more about it and ended up holding signs.
Now an American abroad, I am a reluctant representative
of millions of square miles and hundreds of millions of people. When I’m asked my nationality and say I’m
American I almost always get a positive response, especially by those who have
never been there. Every single time I say it’s a big place, and there is good
and there is bad, just like anywhere. I
can tell people a little about the parts of it I’ve seen but there’s a lot that
I haven’t.
Having lived in countries that have poor infrastructure, oppressive
governments and limited freedom of speech I appreciate the reliable roads,
electricity, and clean water in the US, the relative freedom of our press, our speech, and
accountability of our politicians. I remember visiting a fon in Cameroon and being
awed by the aura of untouchable royalty in the room. We weren’t allowed to cross our legs, put our
hands in our pockets or turn our back on him.
His councilor had to stoop when approaching him in order not to appear
taller. I appreciate the dose of humility we get from American leaders and
politicians (some more sincere than others). I like being from a country whose
citizens have such a wide variety of backgrounds and languages. In Qatar there
are people whose families have been here for generations, but they are not
allowed to have Qatari citizenship.
I want to love my country and hold it accountable at the
same time. American patriotism often seems to mean promoting the US and its
corporate interests to the exclusion of the needs of the rest of the world, or
even minorities within the country itself. There’s been so much done in its
name that I can’t support, or in the name of “freedom.” I moved to Kosovo right
after September 11th and I remember being in an internet café and
that song came on with the line “proud to be an American, where at least I know
I’m free” and I had no idea what he was singing about, or whether he had any
idea either
