Why I am an American

Growing up, I discovered the teachings and writings of the Honorable Prophet Elijah Mohammed, peace be upon him, and Malcolm X. Like most teachings, I didn’t believe everything these men had to say—but there was enough to keep me studying. There are many things about Islam that don’t appeal to me.

I am not a Muslim, although I have a great deal of respect for their teachings, and particularly the application of those teachings as demonstrated by some of the specific successes of the Nation of Islam.

Over the years, I’ve developed my own set of beliefs about patriotism, and nationalism, and the concept of being an American.

They’ve become part of who I am, but not something I necessarily talk a lot about. But several recent conversations about illegal immigration, and how to handle it, have driven me back to these foundational beliefs (for me) and redrawn me to those thoughts and ideas from long ago.

In one of those discussions with a friend, here at my home, the question of “what is an American” was a topic of the moment. Patrick Buchanan, a man I consider a radical right winger, but whose thoughts and ideas I both respect, and on certain levels can appreciate, has written a book called State of Emergency.

His basic premise is that America is being “invaded” by Latin America, and our nation itself risks destruction from within. He further contends that as we acquiesce to the language demands of Spanish-speakers, we destroy one of the elements that make us a nation—namely, our common language.

I see his point, and it drives me immediately to a moment 30 years ago this week, when my father, mother, and I sat down in front of a 12” black and white television to watch “Roots.”

One scene that has stuck in my mind for the subsequent three decades is the brutal moment in which newly kidnapped and brutalized African Kunte Kinte is whipped to a bloody pulp until he accepts that his “name” is now Toby. Here is the rubber meets the road moment that for me defines “how” to guarantee your nation is monolinguistic.





If I were to accept that adoption of a single language is, in fact, part of the truest path to building a nation, I would have to concede Mr. Buchanan’s point and see this moment not as the brutal thing that it is, but rather an important step on the path to creating an “American.”

I’m not with Mr. Buchanan on this one.

I oppose illegal immigration for reasons COMPLETELY different from his, but my disagreement could leave me with the question “what DOES make a person an American?”

It doesn’t.

He repeatedly asks this question in his book, and my answer takes me back to the Prophet, and Malcolm, and the thoughts of my youth.

I am an American because I choose to be, and because I have the geographic standing to make the claim publicly.

I further happen to believe I earned my status as an “American” by volunteering to pick up a rifle, and joining the military in defense of this country.

I am one of the fortunate ones who served, but never saw combat. But in my opinion, it is my service to this country that cements my claim that I am in fact indisputably an American.

I don’t believe anyone else has to serve if they don’t want to, and I allow for an infinite list of acceptable reasons that some other descendant of slaves can choose to call him or herself an American.

This is mine.

But in this “black history month,” it’s a question that I pose to others. I have told you why I believe I am an American.

You may not be willing to take on such a question for yourself. I respect your privacy. But if you’re comfortable enough to tackle the question, I put it to you….

What makes YOU an American?