Searching for my patriotism amidst the rubble

By Mary Kay Roth

Fifty years ago, I wore my love beads and burned the flag, protesting against the Vietnam war – protesting for civil rights and women’s rights – protesting all things wrong with our country.

I was accused of not being a patriot.

After all, I’ve never really liked the Star-Spangled Banner and “the rockets' red glare, the bombs bursting in air.”

Through the years I’ve continued to balance a love-hate relationship with the United States of America, further complicated over the past decades with George Floyd, Jan. 6 and a wash of new books and tough truths that question the blind “greatness” in our country.

Rah, rah, rah.  Yeah right.

So, on this red-white-and-blue holiday weekend I’ve been thinking a lot about patriotism, what it means for me.  And, if the outbreak of similar columns is any measure, I’m not alone in asking: Do I still love this country?  

Mark Twain's perspective on patriotism is acutely appropriate right now: "Patriotism is supporting your country all the time, and your government when it deserves it."  He believed the phrase "My country, right or wrong," was an insult to the nation. 

I certainly don’t love my government when it is led by racists, xenophobes and evil doers who believe the American dream involves erasing the Constitution and coldly cutting off anything good – forgetting the very things that make this country great. 

I don’t love my government when black-masked agents nab refugee and migrant families from their homes and take them away without due process – when 17 million people are now projected to lose health insurance – when the wealthy further line their pockets.

I don’t love a president who not only exposes but champions the underbelly of America – or congressional folk who, just in time for Independence Day, pass perhaps the most horrendous piece of legislation in memory: devastating Medicaid, cutting food assistance for children, diverting public school funding to benefit rich families, boosting an already out-of-control deportation force, defunding Planned Parenthood clinics and so much more.

These days, many of the younger generations don’t believe in patriotism, my own kids questioning why we need to love a specific country.  They challenge me to love and care for an entire world.

I understand the value of embracing everyone around the globe.

But there were moments over July Fourth this year when I paused – in wonder..

When my grandchildren of different colors played side by side.

When the news was filled with neighborhood children’s parades as well as nationwide protests.

When good friends scrambled to furnish an apartment for a new refugee family – while others started a Fund A Need for a young woman suffering addiction and losing Medicaid.

When my granddaughter made a new friend at the zoo – just by sharing toys in the sandbox.

Turns out, perhaps a bit reluctantly, I do love my country.  I love what it can be and should be.  And I won’t allow right-wing jingoists to kidnap my flag, when I still believe it stands for a set of ideas worth defending.

I love my country when I continue to write blogs and social media posts that criticize – without reprisal.  (Admittedly, at least for now.) I love the USA when columnists and journalists openly blast our country ... specifically over the Fourth of July.

I love my country when Trump fades at the polls while I experience an exhilarating sense of comradeship with those who celebrate those polls.

I loved my country while I stood arm in arm with folks at Woods Park, lining O street and chanting “No More Kings,” joining more than 4 million people in massive protests across the country – overshadowing President’s Trump’s dismal parade.

I loved my country when, as I protested, several trucks pulled up in front of us – and they weren’t there to take us away.  They were trucks from a local business employing migrant workers who pulled out coolers of water to thank us all. 

Like Mark Twain, I adhere to the distinction between loyalty to one's nation and loyalty to its government. Authentic patriotism involves a discerning approach, supporting our government when it acts justly. Never when it does not.

I liked these recent words from USA Today writer Rex Huppke: 

“In this rather pivotal moment in American history, how do we celebrate America – the right-now version of America – when democracy looks as fragile as a cracked sheet of thin ice over a warming pond?

“I imagine everyone will have a different answer, and I’m not here to claim I know best. But as a critic of Trump and all he has done to mangle this country and its sense of decency, I can share my form of Fourth of July patriotism.

“We can love this country and loathe the people in charge. We can be simultaneously proud of this country and embarrassed of the things being done in its name.  My America is welcoming, and just, and decent. And no two-bit con-artist president is going to take away my belief that these un-American actions can and will be stopped.”

Yes, perhaps right now it feels like our house is burning alongside our fireworks, but it’s still our house. Personally, this is the country where I was born, grew up, a country I want to help salvage for my children and grandchildren.

How do we accomplish that?

The amazing Anne Lamott had some ideas in her latest column: “Anyone paying close attention to the news might well ask themselves what on earth there is to celebrate this Fourth of July. But we must celebrate, or they win, in the paranoid sense of “they.” They want the day, but we can’t let them have it. Independence Day is America’s day. Sure, we bleeding-heart nervous cases are teetering on the edge of despair, but that is exactly why I am calling for us to move into a new phase of resistance: hope and joy. In ghastly times, these are subversive.

This Fourth of July, she proclaimed, “My friends and I will celebrate the land that embraces political marches and rallies, the ones so far and those still to come. This is “We the people,” and that is the ultimate and most profound aspect of America. We are going to keep showing up and talking about what needs to be done and what is possible right now. We give some money, if we can, to food banks, to a congressional candidate in a swing district, an immigrant rights organization, the ACLU and Project Hope. We steady ourselves for whatever the future might hold — left foot, right foot, left foot, breathe. Yes, things are god-awful in so many ways, maybe especially the dismantling of USAID, but we can’t go limp. This is what they want.” 

Lamott remembers George Carlin’s profession, “’There are nights when the wolves are silent and only the moon howls.’ …  That night is now. We are the moon shining in the dark. We have begun to howl as one, as this new thing is getting itself born.” 

So, as this holiday weekend comes to a close, I am indeed celebrating July Fourth this year - and I am howling.

Howling out America the Beautiful, not the Star-Spangled Banner.

Howling a nuanced patriotism guided by reason and principle, rather than blind adherence.

Howling with subversive, unbridled, patriotic joy.

Because when we stop believing, we slowly lose our hope in humanity.

I hope you find your patriotism this year.  I’ve found mine.