America the beautiful!

I was born in 1967 at the tail end of what’s considered the civil rights movement, smack in the middle of the Vietnam War and into the Nixon era. The TV seemed to always be on in my house and the news was never good. Even though I was young, I will have those images of black men and women being hosed like animals and children being burned by bombs, cemented in my mind forever.

As I went off to school, I began learning America’s history. I don’t know if it’s because it was the 70’s and the teachers were very mindful of teaching what was politically correct or because my mind only clung to the sad parts and not the stories of why this county was created in the first place, but I came away from it very disheartened. We came here for freedom and then forced the Native Americans into reservations. We took away their pride, their beliefs, their land. We sang “Free to Be you and Me” for our bi-centennial celebration…free at what price?

The television taught me an important history lesson in 1977 via the mini-series Roots. My family was glued to the TV for eight nights. I came from a white neighborhood and my grade school had two black students. At ten years old, my eyes, my heart were opened. How could we? I was told we were an example for the rest of the world. My heart broke. I was not proud of our county.

At thirteen, I joined a church that was very involved in politics. This evangelical church taught me that we should be ashamed of what our county has become and that if we didn’t change from what they told me were our wicked ways, we would soon see the wrath of the God. I am sad to say I was very involved in this church until my 30s. I campaigned and voted with the religious right. I prayed for our evil county.

At 31, I left the church of my youth. My mind became open for the first time and I began to relearn God. The God I learned was a God of love, a God of acceptance and a God of freedom. And seeing the United States from the other side, I was once again disheartened by our county. I watched as the precious freedoms we did have began to be taken away from us by the religious mindset that had once been my own.

Eventually I decided it was hopeless. I decided to live my life the best I could and not waste anymore time trying to change the unchangeable. I gave up.

I can honestly say, apologetically, that this is the first time I have felt any patriotism or pride in our county. I would never have admitted it before. I silently agreed with Michelle Obama as they raked her over the coals. I understood what the Rev Wright meant when he said “God damn America” (even though it was taken out of context). I loved my county and I loved my people but could not hold my head high and join the chorus of “ I’m Proud to be an American.” I was ashamed of Bush’s war. Ashamed that my gay friends were denied basic rights because of whom they loved. I was ashamed that as the richest country in the world, we have children going to bed hungry. Ashamed that proper healthcare, legal representation and the government itself, were only for the elite.

I have never felt as much pride in our country as I did yesterday, January 20^th, 2010 as we voted in our first minority president. And it’s not the man that made me a believer, it’s the people. I have the utmost respect for Obama and am thrilled to have him as our Commander and Chief. What overwhelmed me was “We, the people” made a difference. For the first time since 1967, I feel HOPE and it feels good. When Bono was questioned as to why he was performing in the Inauguration ceremony. He said “Because America is not just a country it’s an idea.” I get it now and I think the world does too!