Lot’s of people ponder what their favorite part of America is. Of course I don’t mean “part” as in, New York City, The Grand Canyon, or Wrigley Field. Nor do I mean, Baseball, Apple Pie, or the Fourth of July. I’m talking about the part that makes us most proud. The part that makes us unique and elevates us above all other nations in the history of the world. In this globalized, multicultural world, lots of people take offense to the notion of American Exceptionalism. They’ll go to the length of saying the Tutu tribe is equal to American Culture, for who are we to judge, they seem happy. Often times, those people are mired in moral relativism and they refuse to admit that sometimes, things aren’t equal.
I’ve got an answer that has been approved by the local Somalian Community…At least my Somalian friends and acquaintances, that is…I helped earn America a rousing cheer last fourth of July when I stood up at a party, and stood up for America and said this: “My favorite part of America is that anyone can be a Nationalist without automatically being an ethnicist (sic) or racist. Compare this to all other nations (okay, except Canada) where strong nationalist feelings inherently suggest a eugenics type reason for alleged national superiority. We all can describe certain, likely, physical appearances of folks from different countries from Italy to China to Nigeria to Mexico. If I moved to Somalia and lived there for 20years, built schools and became a pillar of the community, could I ever be a Somalian? Examine the reverse. All any immigrant in America really needs to do to be considered a fellow American, is to announce, “I am an American.” Lastly, if you had no accent, and you called someone on the phone in Russia (for example) and you told them, “I am an American,” would they have ANY CLUE as to what you might look like?”
This was the point that I will likely remember forever. More than a dozen people from all different walks of life stood up and cheers’d America. I fought back tears and continued to enjoy America’s birthday for a few more hours until the sun came up.
So…What does this have to do with the song, “American Boy?” It’s important to note that Estelle is British and she dreams of an “American Boy to take her on a trip someday to New York, LA, MIA, Broadway, San Francisco Bay.” But notice that she doesn’t dream of jet-setting with an, “Arab American Boy” or an “Asian American Boy” or any other hyphenated American name that Theodore Roosevelt warned against. From outside America, we are all Americans. It’s time for those of us on the inside, to start acting like it. But will Liberalism allow it?