I’ve heard it again and again. I’m not patriotic because I’m a “liberal.” I “hate my country.” I don’t support Trump, so I must not support America.
And I’m sick of it.
This Independence Day, like every Independence Day, I think a lot about what the USA, my birth country, means to me. Like many schoolchildren, I was raised with a daily recitation of the Pledge of Allegiance. I loved Roland Emmerich’s adorably patriotic films like Independence Day and The Patriot. I proudly wore American flag stickers and pins. I scarfed down hot dogs and BBQ at every Fourth of July picnic. I felt safe and empowered by being an American. Like many of my peers, I happily informed people that “it’s a free country” whenever they disagreed with me. I was, by every typical measure, a red-blooded American.
And yet, as George W. Bush took power, I watched the culture war erupt, and with it a malicious claim to patriotism orchestrated by Karl Rove on behalf of the GOP. From then on, I watched as “Support the Troops” yellow-ribbon magnets adorned countless cars, yet when I expressed concern over the conditions that veterans faced, I was called a “bleeding heart, anti-military liberal.” I watched as Hummers grew in popularity, yet when I expressed concerns over rising carbon emissions, I was mocked for being a “tree hugger” who hated American cars, and by extension all…
