During this year’s NFL preseason, Colin Kaepernick, a relatively obscure quarterback for the San Francisco 49ers refused to stand up for the national anthem as a protest against police brutality. The media latched on to the story, but for all the wrong reasons. The debate quickly became not about what Kaepernick was trying to accomplish—an end to the killing of unarmed black men by police—but how he was trying to accomplish it. More people seem to be offended by a single football player’s decision to not stand during the national anthem than by the deaths of innocent people across the country. As disturbing as this undoubtedly is, it is also unsurprising given how we view patriotism in America today.
The media circus surrounding Kaepernick’s protest was foreshadowed earlier this summer when Gabby Douglas, a member of the U.S. Olympic Women’s Gymnastics Team, didn’t place her hand on her heart during the national anthem after helping her team to a gold medal finish. Here is a world-class athlete, proudly representing her country in the world’s most prominent athletic tournament, performing to the best of her ability all while clad in sparkling leotards emblazoned with the American flag. How much more American can she be?
And yet because Gabby made the personal choice to not place her hand on her heart for a minute-long anthem, and likely because she is black, she was instantly criticized, even deemed to be un-American, by viewers at home. Her action had to be politicized and debated in countless media outlets: was it about Black Lives Matter? Was it unpatriotic? No one stopped to think, maybe she just forgot or was tired.
This is the experience of minorities across America, who have their every move scrutinized. With this scrutiny comes the unspoken implication that minorities somehow owe America a debt for simply being allowed to live here. Any criticism—real or imagined—of their own country is taken as a sign that they do not deserve to be “American,” that they are ungrateful or spoiled.
The terms of American-ness are, in a de facto sense, written and voted on by those in positions of societal power, who are overwhelmingly white and male. And when a single group in society can decide who gets the “privilege” of being accepted as American, the rest of us lose ownership of our identities and of our nation.
Minorities—whether they are women, LGBTQ+, immigrants, people of color, etc. or some combination—are expected to relinquish their communities and culture in order to be accepted. America allows different backgrounds, but not different lifestyles.
In Kaepernick’s case, it’s fine to be black in America, as long as he stays politically neutral and just plays football. When he starts to speak up about the issues that affect his community, he’s hit with a barrage of insults that boil down to one cruel point: “your pain makes us feel uncomfortable, so you need to stop talking.” By talking about his experiences, Kaepernick refuses to take on the role society wants him to play, and this means he cannot be a real American.
Our current media dialogue is dominated by pundits, writers, and everyday people trying to seize the American identity as if it’s a prize that can be won or taken away, and no one wants to be the runner-up. Criticizing our country has become a form of sacrilege, and this has led to a false dichotomy between being American and acknowledging America’s flaws.
Society has placed a ridiculous burden of proof on the members of every minority group, expecting them to publicly and consistently express their love for America and its cultural mainstream. Minorities struggle every day to assimilate, because for all our talk of melting pots and diversity, we still have a very limited definition of the American experience. You can be accepted as, for example, a first-generation immigrant from China, but only as long as you never talk about China, and talk a lot about football.
So what does being American really mean? Does it simply entail waving flags and patriotic anthems, of blind loyalty and unquestioning devotion? America belongs to all of us, and we each have a right to engage with our nation in a way that expresses our personal experiences. We can disagree with each other’s arguments and still believe they have the right to make them. We all have an equal claim to America by right of our residence here. We can own our American identity or throw it aside, but no one else gets to pick for us.