i’m not patriotic, and not because i hate the states or anything.
i mean, okay lets be so for real — i do not like the direction and path this country has fallen into but patriotism seems like such a silly thing when the world is so big.
being brought here as a baby and always being aware of the fact that i could have just as easily grown up on the other side of the world, i’ve never felt any sense of attachment to like… anywhere i’ve been? i don’t really know how to describe it. always loved moving. shaking things up. collecting stories.
i think the closest i’ve felt to loss when it comes to a “place” is when my parents sold the house i spent the majority of my youth growing up in. it was our third home at that point, but it’s where we had stayed the longest. it was always a constant in my life. i could always count on going home for the holidays and being inside, all cozy in front of the fire.
it seems silly to me to feel patriotism for … what? land? a place? arbitrary human-made borders on the land masses that managed to break through the ocean?
i associate patriotism with over zealous xenophobic people. proud people. unflinchingly accepting ideals proposed by the government. maybe that’s what the states have done to my brain. or maybe i did it to myself.
i would really enjoy if my feelings toward the word changed, but i fear it might be a while until that happens. i’d like to feel proud. i’d like to know that we’ve done the right thing; protected people. shown love to immigrants. but i don’t know if that is possible. time and action will tell.