Drosophila melanogaster. The biological name of a common fruit fly is used for biological research due to its rapid life cycle. I learned that in high school biology over forty years ago. I don’t have it tattooed on my arm; I simply remember it. I’ve occasionally described the random facts in my head to a landfill. Save for perhaps a trivia game, knowing the scientific name of the common fruit fly will never be useful. I should just jettison it like jetsam.
I retained a disproportionate amount of civics, which is the study of government. I remembered details about the branches of government and how they all functioned. Strangely, I don’t remember if that class was in middle school or high school, nor do I even remember the teacher who taught the lessons; I just remembered the facts. Though much of this also came through osmosis on Saturday morning cartoons and Schoolhouse Rock. Where I learned about how bills are passed, and even the preamble to the US Constitution. I can still hear the tune in my head.
While I didn’t realize it at the time, learning all those details about government would prove handy later, as did learning US history. Though at the time, I retained it as trivia about our country.
Who among us would make good citizens?
During the early and mid-1980s, my mom prepared diligently for an exam. She aspired to be naturalized. I had been eyeing a handheld game, Battlestar Galactica Space Alert. She committed to getting it for me upon my helping her study; she bribed me. It started with a list of questions that she’d be asked, along with the answers. Initially, I’d use the list to recite the questions, but eventually I had memorized them as well as the answers. As we spoke, I’d interject one of these questions, and she would answer. Even knowing almost no English, she passed the test with flying colors. To this day, I remember the names “Lawton Chiles” and “Richard Stone” as the Florida senators at the time.
In a recent news clip, they asked Tommy Tuberville, shortly after he had been elected, if he knew the three branches of government. His response? Executive, the House, and the Senate. I visibly winced. I may not expect every citizen to know the three branches of our government, but I do expect an actual member of one of those branches to know the three branches of government. Furthermore, my mom would’ve proudly answered: Legislative, Executive, and Judicial.
What defines patriotism?
Please look up the definition; I mean literally, pick your favorite dictionary. Pick the definition that best reflects your understanding of ‘patriotism’. Ready? Now show me where it refers to race, gender, or religion? I looked through several. There’s this one, this one, and this one. None refers to gender, race, or religion. None mentions speaking the native language either.
The definition of patriotism is not bound by gender, race, religion, or even language. There’s no reason to believe that Christians make better Americans than Muslims. In fact, we wrote the freedom of religion into the First Amendment. Do you believe that I, as a Chinese-American, am somehow less patriotic than the natively-born Caucasian American of European descent?
Is the color of my skin correlated to the love of my country? The definitions of patriotism also forgo the mention of naturalized versus natively-born citizens. Even knowing as little English as she knew, there was no doubt in my mind that my mom loved this country as well.
I became a naturalized United States citizen as a teenager, and as such, I took an oath of allegiance to this country I love. I understood the words and their meaning and happily pledged loyalty to the only country I had ever really known.
As most of you readers know, there’s no such stipulation for natively-born citizens to take this oath. I’ve pledged my loyalty; most of you have not.
Who we are
My father passed in Puerto Rico before I turned 10 years old. My memories of him grow dimmer and more distant with each passing year. However, I remember our struggling for years before he established his own business, a restaurant. My dad was always working; I’m not sure if I ever saw him sleep. He instilled this dedication and persistence in all of us; he understood the opportunity he got. When we describe the United States, several phrases come up:
- The Land of Opportunity
- The Melting Pot
- “Give me your tired, your poor, your huddled masses…”
The very greatness of our country lies in its inclusivity and its diversity. In our very name, we express plurality and unity. We are distinct, but together. I realize that we may not always achieve this, but it’s our guiding principle.
My dad welcomed patrons with great Chinese food and amused them with a razor-sharp wit. Today, people will hear phrases like “they’re eating the dogs” and picture people like my dad. This thought overwhelms me with sadness.
We the people
“We the people” includes everyone. Our country is a kaleidoscope of color, but part of a whole. Our country grants us the same rights and freedoms, independent of gender, race, religion, sexual orientation, or gender identity. Let’s stop dehumanizing those who are different. We’ll hear those words frequently enough so that we start to believe them:
- Muslims are incapable of being good Americans.
- In America, we speak English.
- Poor people are just lazy; work harder.
Once we dehumanize them, they become less important. Their rights matter a little less. Their suffering is a little more palatable. They’re not immigrants, they’re illegals (yes, I’ve heard this term used even for documented immigrants). We can detain them just because they look the part. They speak a different language; their votes shouldn’t count as much as ours. Our country was founded on Christian principles; other religions are un-American.
They’re a series of lies we tell ourselves to minimize empathy and maximize cruelty. It’s not that we believe that black (or Asian, Latino, gay, trans, etc.) lives don’t matter at all; it’s that we have convinced ourselves that they matter a little less. The tragic story of Gabby Petito consumes us, but we barely notice how many Indigenous women go missing.
However, we’re part of the greater family; our collective experiences matter. It all shapes who we are as a country. I am Frank, the son of Chinese immigrants and a naturalized citizen. I am a patriot; those are not mutually exclusive. My opinions matter as much as yours. My voice will not be silenced, whether spoken in English, Spanish, or Cantonese.