Sunday, July 05, 2015

American Identity

Previous 4th of July posts have focused on why I am grateful I live in the United States. This one is a bit more introspective exploring my identity as an American, or more specifically, an American who was adopted from the Philippines. 

My mom made my dress I wore to my citizenship ceremony at the Federal courthouse in Denver. The citizenship certificate has my picture on it with me holding an American flag. 

My grandpa, or "Pa", instilled love of country in me at a very early age. I remember watching him hang the flag by the door of his and Grandma's house every 4th of July, Memorial Day, or Labor Day that I was with my grandparents. We went to the Memorial Day Parade in downtown Denver where we watched Grandma march with the W.A.C. or Women's Army Corps. In elementary school, I thought I had the coolest grandma because, "She was old, but she could march all the way through the Memorial Day parade!" Pa also reminded me to stand and clap for the veterans who were disabled when their unit marched by. He reminded me that my freedom was not free. 

As I grew older and began to watch the news with my mom, I would ask her questions about world events and we would discuss them at dinner. When I discussed the news with Pa, he would remind me not to take our democracy for granted as many citizens of other countries didn't have the basic rights given to us through the Bill of Rights. He and my mom also encouraged me to understand the structure of government so I was able to make informed decisions when I became of voting age. 

Mom was the one who got me hooked on football, America's pastime. Well, she and Flora turned me into a die-hard Denver Broncos fan, and my mom was so happy when we could discuss Elway's brilliance and fumbles. 

My mom also taught me how to like American pie. Especially when it's served a la mode with the vanilla ice-cream melting on top of the hot apples - mmmm.... 

Considering all these things, I was an all-American girl. As I became a teen, I realized I was an all-American girl in completely Asian skin. Did that bother me? Sometimes. I would tell my mom that I didn't feel as American as my friends because I wasn't born here and I wasn't Caucasian. I was Asian-American, and therefore, not completely American. She told me that I shouldn't tell myself that because I was an American citizen. If I wanted proof, she would show my my citizenship documents. 

As I learned more about history, I embraced the idea that America was a land of immigrants. I could relate to the story of coming here to find a better life. Maybe I wasn't American in a sense that I was born on U.S. soil to parents who lived here for generations, but I was American in that I came here for a better life. Like many immigrants, I respect and appreciate the culture from my home country, but I also embrace this culture and this country. I don't feel a pull between the two because they are both a part of me. I'm an American from the Philippines who is grateful for her new life. 

And I'm proud to be an American
For at least I know I'm free

And I won't forget the men who died
Who gave that right to me

And I'll gladly stand up next to you
And defend her still today

'Cause there ain't no doubt I love this land
God Bless the U.S.A.


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