According to Merriam-Webster’s dictionary, patriotism is “love for or devotion to one’s country.” As an American Muslim female living in the United States, my patriotism is likely different from that of a typical American.
I was born in the United States to an immigrant father and an American mother. Three of my four grandparents are immigrants. My grandfather came to the United States to flee religious persecution in his home country. Although he was raised in a small village, his migration to the United States led him to pursue a college education and eventually end up as a professor with a Ph.D. His love for his country stems from the opportunities that his immigration afforded him, both religiously and professionally. Most immigrants in his situation feel similarly in their devotion to this country.
Being born and raised in the United States, my situation is slightly different. While the US was a second home for my grandparents, it’s the only home I have ever known. I can only call myself an American – I was born and raised here, and the only language I speak is English.
This past year’s presidential race changed the way I conceptualized patriotism. I have always been fairly aware of people who have racial, ethnic, and religious prejudices, but I always found solace in the idea that these people do not represent the majority. However, witnessing Trump’s presidential campaign forced me to reconsider. If someone who not only condoned but also promoted intolerance and bigotry gained traction with so many people, what did that say about my fellow American citizens? Regardless of whether or not he ended up becoming president, I no longer found solace knowing that many Americans supported him.
When Trump enacted a travel ban that prevented immigrants from seven Muslim-majority countries from entering the United States, it made me rethink my patriotic ideals. Yes, I still have the opportunity to practice my religion freely. But the man who is leading our nation explicitly stated that he wanted to find a way to ban Muslims from entering the very same country that I cherish for its religious freedom. He regularly equates Islam with terrorism, whether explicitly or implicitly. To think that the nearly half the country thought Trump would be fit to be leader of the free world was mind-blowing to me.
Seeing people’s reactions to the ban; however, restored my faith in the citizens of the US. Several demonstrations were planned at our local airport and around the city as soon as the ban was enacted. Much to my surprise, the majority of people protesting were not Muslims or immigrants. They were concerned citizens who were not okay with Trump’s attempt to prevent an entire religious group from entering the “land of the free.” Several non-Muslim friends reached out to me that week. One of my friends texted me to say that he was sorry that there were people in this country who were intolerant enough to support these policies, apologizing on behalf of people he had never met. While I was comforted by the unconditional support, I was forced to make peace with the fact that there are still a significant number of people who will never accept me or my fellow Muslims as they accept others.
Perhaps naively, I have always believed that people who have racist and prejudiced beliefs cling to them out of ignorance. Yet, even if out of ignorance, those people elected a president who reflects many of the dark aspects of America – aspects that most of us would rather live without.
Do I love my country? Yes. Does my country love me? That’s more complicated. I am fully aware that a large portion of this country, including its leadership, will always view me as an outsider. But I am American born and bred. I love watching football, July 4th fireworks, and a good barbecue. I’ve never sung another national anthem, and I never will. Others may doubt my patriotism, but I never will.
Similar Read: Patriotism Is A Dirty Word
This article was originally published on 4 July 2017.