Disclaimer: This is neither a black militant nor a singularly uplifting post. As most of you waved the Stars and Stripes and enjoyed various grilled meats this past weekend (I worked), July 4 serves as a reminder of incomplete dreams, work-in-progress promises, the eternal pursuit of freedom and liberty, and what true patriots are like. Patriotism is not solely reserved for “real Americans,” but all who are here.
-A. Ced A.
Happy belated 239th birthday, America.
Hope it was a blast.
You know, you’re a democracy entering middle age who
has done quite well: winning wars,
promoting a certain brand of freedom, creating a utopia called the American
Dream that rewards both hard work and playing by the rules, serving as the
world’s policeman, innovating numerous industries, and so forth. The rest of
the world admires our successes; consequently, every nation has sent its best
and brightest to learn at the feet of our esteemed higher education system with
the intent of those citizens returning to their homelands to raise a national
standard of living. Sometimes it works, and other times they fall in love, get
married, become irresistible to domestic employers and stay around, eventually
becoming permanent productive citizens that make a positive impact on our
communities.
In that respect America is truly beautiful.
This beautiful America (for me and countless black
people, a case of battered wife syndrome) is supposed to love us even as she
abuses us regularly. This is the only place my family expects to live business
opportunities notwithstanding, yet am I supposed to whitewash the anguish and
emotional scars brought forth by this serial abuser? I admit I do look forward
to the Summer Olympics every four years mostly to watch American-born athletes
utterly destroy all comers in track and field and men’s basketball, and the
women’s World Cup winning soccer team continue to give cause to chest thumping,
but what happens when the bright lights are turned off? Do we enjoy the full
tapestry that comes with being American, or do we return to that dark place in
the corner?
So…why are we told to get over it?
You’ve never heard me make the sentiment about the
Confederate flag, of which I see as racially intimidating due to our history
together. When you get over losing the Civil War and leave the Stars and Bars
in museums, history books, Civil War re-enactments, and on the General Lee,
then we’ll make a concerted effort to love this place. It’s pretty obvious my
blood bleeds red, as do the rest of us.
Keep in mind Crispus Attucks was the first man to
die in the American Revolution. That fact alone should signify the history of
black American patriotism.
Politicians trip over themselves appealing to “real
Americans” – code for white, heterosexual, Christian conservatives – when that
sliver is only a small piece of what this nation looks like. What, does my skin
color not make me an equal? I have family members and friends who have served
heroically in war time only to be slurred on their home soil. Their white bones
had been mangled in battles near and far away, and now, their second war is
waged against a society that covertly tells them to get over it. Remember, this
country was founded on contradictions:
All men are created equal…except for the slaves I presently own as I
write this Declaration of Independence and confirming it via the Three-Fifths
Compromise; liberty; thievery; and free labor.
Why should the red blood that stains my cotton white
t-shirt proves to you that I matter in the grand scheme of things? I’m just as
patriotic – see, I have Roman candles and bottle rockets with my smoked ribs,
grilled hot dogs and hamburgers, and the American flag hanging from my house.
There was a time when one could meet brute violence
simply for being black on the wrong side of town. Disagree? Ask any community
elders of a certain age what happened at dark if you were caught across the
tracks after hours. Also, recall a time in elementary school when we once sung
of Columbus sailing the ocean blue to the New World (to Europe) already
occupied by Indians and Africans alike.
Where was that blue water when those crosses burned
in yards and fires destroyed churches and businesses with unifying fervor?
#WhoIsBurningBlackChurches pic.twitter.com/UFc2PckxQA
— A. Cedric Armstrong (@cedteaches) July 2, 2015
Freedom is symbolized through blue skies, so pure
and clear. Am I right?
How do you see truth?
Despite the phrase “true blue” bandied about our
lexicon, America does have some inconvenient truths she wants to remain in the
closet. As I’ve learned firsthand and probably to a financial detriment, the
truth can set you free yet impact future career prospects in some
organizations. One example stems from when I thought I was having an off-the-cuff
conversation with a parent explaining the black experience (some may say the respectable
black experience, but I was being candid) of having to work twice as hard for
half the respect and none of the pay. The latter somewhat implied free – or
cheap – labor. In right-to-work states such as Arkansas, bright ideas that
mature into good fruit are considered proprietary. Intellectual property is a
four-letter-word to many employers.
Until that modern example of inconvenient truth is
rectified, the contradictions continue. The Native Americans received a large
amount of Oklahoma as reparation for being forcibly removed from their lands
(Trail of Tears), yet the black survivors of the Tulsa Race Riots have gotten
nothing but deferred fake apologies and nearly whitewashed from history.
Does putting sin aside for a second in the name of
patriotism justify the pain inflicted upon us the rest of the time?
I do appreciate how far the United States of America
has come in 239 short years and am cognizant of how much farther she must
travel to be consistent with her lofty ideals. That eternal pursuit of liberty
and freedom will always continue, even in our most challenging days and as we
move from imperialists to capitalists to whatever comes next. Being patriotic
is not blindly following symbols as so many citizens seem to do; rather being
able to stand proudly with the full acknowledgment that for a moment, otherness
can be cast aside for a common cause.
Happy 239th birthday, 'Merica. Home of the brave, land of the free - I need the actual numbers on your cake not the 239 candles.
— A. Cedric Armstrong (@cedteaches) July 4, 2015
Yes Sir, We still have a long way to go to bridge the gap between us as a nation.
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