These days, there is a lot of uncertainty regarding what it means to be “American.” Despite the plain language of the 14 Amendment to our Constitution, reinforced by decades of jurisprudence, powerful voices have injected fear into a nation that can ill-afford another assault on its fragile democracy. A friend of mine once joked, “I feel like I need to study before I have a conversation with you.” Yes, I felt flattered that someone noticed how much effort I’ve put into speaking clearly, how much I try to know what I’m saying before I say it. Speech is a guaranteed right under that same, largely unchanged document—that proxy for the soul of our Republic. And yet, the consequences of that speech? Well those are, in no way, guaranteed, even if such consequences could threaten our souls. Language is just one prism of identity. An important facet, yes, but not the only one. My grandmother gained her US citizenship as one of the final acts of her life. She studied so hard for that test, spoke as much English as her 80+ year old brain would allow, and passed away as an American. No less American than I am, no less American than those keen on not just eliminating the same opportunity for others, but stripping them of their dignity in the process. My grandmothers didn’t teach me English. But they taught me integrity, resilience, loyalty, courage, and love. And I will use those lessons to school anyone who might try to make me, my family, or anyone else who can’t say the right words feel unsafe.
#broccolisoup #american #storytime