Now, before you read the title and think to admonish me or tell me to “leave if I don’t like it here”… hush, have a seat, and listen.
First, I am a service-connected disabled veteran. What does that mean?
It means that I currently have conditions that were either a direct result of my service in the military or made worse by that service and the Veterans Administration has acknowledged this as a fact and granted me this status.
I mention this because apparently, for some people, my status as an American in and of itself isn’t justification enough for me to freely speak my opinion of this country.
My Blackness, however light the level of melanin in my skin, earns me an invitation to leave if I exercise my constitutional right to free speech and it happens to be unfavorable with regard to this country.
So, I throw in the veteran piece to give me some breathing room… some credibility… some “right” to say what my humanity and citizenship alone doesn’t.
In addition, my status as a veteran adds to the intensity of this love/hate relationship I have with America.
I come from a long line of servicemen and women. Hell, my parents met in nursing school at Walter Reed Army Medical Center. (My Black daddy was a badass to be in this program in the early 60s, right?)
My point is that we obviously love our country… or the potential of this country. We sacrificed much for it in our service to it. That sacrifice wasn’t made for a flag or a national anthem. It was made for the people — the hope of the people.
It’s this hope and love that makes the reality of America so hard to take sometimes for BIPOC (Black, Indigenous, People of Color) individuals. I’ve often equated it to an abusive relationship.
Like, we’re Tina Turner and America is Ike…
This country takes our talents, our gifts, and our desire to be accepted, even loved, by it… and uses them for her gain while telling us how grateful we ought to be. Just look at the latest highest earners report from Tik Tok if you need a present day example of what I mean…
Our culture, our music, our God-given gifts… continually exploited for gain while we reap little to no benefit and she overlooks our intellect.
But we should be grateful that we get to play professional sports, record the music, and create the dances that makes America billions.
And whatever we do, don’t think that we can use those platforms to speak for ourselves or our experience…
Nope, then we should just “Shut up and dribble”.
It’s like America is sitting with us in the diner screaming “Eat the cake Anna Mae” while shoving it in our faces and then expects us to be grateful for the records she lets us create that make her rich.
Abusive AF.
And yet, we still love it… or we love the hope we somehow continue to have for it.
It’s home after all, right?
Or at least, the only home we know.
Don’t you still love home? It doesn’t matter how dysfunctional the environment is, how much abuse you’ve had to endure there, or how the apologies never seem to change the behavior… we all love home.
And so, I love America.
And so, I hate America.
I hate the America that is still creating laws that suppress and oppress my rights.
I love the America that celebrates diversity and marches for the rights of the marginalized.
I hate the America that builds its systems and institutions on fear and punishment rather than love and correction.
I love the America that still believes we can change.
And I love the heart of BIPOC individuals who can still see and believe in the hope of what America can be… if we make the changes a reality.
So, where does that leave me?
Right here, hating to love a country whose government, systems, and institutions don’t love me.
