Thread by @km

Today, I took an oath of allegiance to the United States, and became a citizen. Heady day for it. Time for a thread.

We ended up, by twist of fate, winning the lottery for asylum in the ‘80’s, and arriving in NYC as refugees. Our first apartment—a few SRO’s, shelters, and senior care facilities later—was in the South Bronx off the 4 train, in the shadow of Yankee Stadium.

My father’s first job was janitor and coat check at the Museum of Natural History; his second, a sub in Queens. My mother taught English to ESL students at F.I.T. That first Christmas was cold. But each season, 🇺🇸 drew us closer and closer.

As it happened, a handful of the ‘86 Yankees took to an ebullient toddler-me in the stadium parking lot—gifted us tix to the game. My father, a cricket fan, found connection to this new land via baseball, as so many immigrants had before him.

I’ll always love the Yankees.

When we made our way up to @phillipsacademy, where my folks became teachers, we were embraced unquestioningly, my brothers and I thrown into sports teams, piano lessons, and bicycle races on summer sidewalks.

By the time 2008 came around, I felt such pride that black kids with funny names could make it in this strange land, that I quit my job to work for the one who would go on to become POTUS. Greatest honor of my life

Working in Nevada taught me something about this country that I was reminded of today. It is the whole world of people: every shade, every face, every race, and taste. To understand these United States is to understand ‘e pluribus, unum.’

Out of many, one.

The 1300 people who I sat in Paramount Theatre in Oakland with today hailed from 99 countries. Our MC, a mix of Cherokee, Scot, Irish, shouted out each country, inviting her members to stand and be honored by the group. I was as proud to be South African then as I’ve *ever* been.

It was a gorgeous display of plurality AND unity, as we went right into Woody Guthrie’s classic, like a congregation after the body. It was surreal.

Seldom possible, but for this place.

Thank you, America, for my wife, my son, my family’s safety and our literal freedom. Thank you for opportunity beyond my wildest dreams, and for the type of scars you can only earn from being hurt by something you love.

It’s a cloudy time. Black bodies and souls still suffer, brown bodies are held down, rural America is cheated, we (!) are still lying to ourselves, our polity is too big for any one of us to care enough for it all at once.

But damn there’s so much good. I’m grateful. I love you!