Digital publication | Page 57

whole “Americanizing” process usually doesn’t take long for them. They acclimate much more quickly than adults, especially when it comes to learning new languages. After just a year of residing in the U.S., I had already acquired an extensive vocabulary of common slang. Words such as "gonna" and "tryna" rolled off my tongue casually in conversations despite my obvious accent. After a while, even my trouble with pronunciation faded. I thought I was finally "American." Not an American, but at least American. Pancakes for breakfast American; Costco and Target American; Thanksgiving and apple pie American; stars and stripes American.

50

Identity is built through experiences and actions. I should be able to sing along with the chorus of "This Land Is Your Land" during the Fourth of July parades without feeling conspicuous. I should be able to sit down on a picnic blanket afterward and eat red, white, and blue water ice with my friends as fireworks blaze and sparkle in the night sky overhead. I should be able to love and admire and praise this country as much as any other American-born youth without sideways glances or raised eyebrows.

The term "American" expresses more than just "born in the United States." It represents the culture and characteristics of America as a country, and it proudly defines our people. The United States is my home as much as it is my neighbors’ whose families have lived in the U.S. for generations. I am just as committed to securing a promising future for the United States as the rest of my peers. Although I might not have a navy-colored U.S. passport, I'm still a proud American inside, where it counts. I cherish the opportunities and freedoms my adopted country provides.

I knew I was American. I celebrated Thanksgiving and the Fourth of July and had better grammar than most of my classmates – I could even spell ‘electronic’ backward without writing it down. I was sure I was American, just like my classmates, just like that boy. While I didn’t question my identity, this was not the first time that others would. While I thought all that mattered was how I felt inside, others were distracted by how I looked.

The question caught me entirely off-guard. I blinked, trying to comprehend the words. How was I supposed to answer that?! Before the teacher could intervene, I shrugged and casually said, "Yeah, but I guess the U.S.A. is also my country too," finishing it off with a radiant smile.

I had fully believed this until one particular day in second grade. I was sharing my all-about-me poster at the front of the classroom when a classmate raised his hand. Eager to answer questions about my project, I called out his name.

"Why did you draw an American flag? You said you weren’t born here." He inquired. 

For people of color, their observable characteristics would set them apart from the “true Americans” – white citizens with so-called “American names.” Even if immigrants of color changed their names to something common and generic