My mom likes to tell the story of how, as a toddler born in the U.S. who left a week later, I grew up overseas and knew very few Americans; but even when I could barely speak, I would become very upset when people said I was Cypriot.
“NO,” I would yell at them. “I AM AMEWICAN.”
“NO,” I would yell at them. “I AM AMEWICAN.”
I was always quite a moral child, and I somehow knew we were supposed to be a place where people didn’t hurt each other for no reason, like they did in wars, which was most of what I had been exposed to at that point. Bad men didn’t take fathers there, like mine had been taken.
My dad was kidnapped for being American in a place where that made you valuable, for the wrong reasons. My mother still brought me in and out of Lebanon during the war. “Don’t tell anyone you’re American,” she would hiss at me there. “Don’t speak any English at all. Only Arabic.”
Dad was eventually released, we moved to America, and I grew up to understand that actually a lot of the things we are supposed to be aren’t true. As a journalist, I’ve seen so much of what we do in other countries that’s cruel, greedy and doesn’t even serve our own interests.
No matter what, though, I never stopped believing in what America could be—what so much of it wants to be. That’s why the last four years have been so difficult for me, and I’m sure for most people who read this. I freely admit that I despaired.
But I was wrong.
But I was wrong.
It’s going to be long and difficult, but I believe we can build the kind of country my future child will be proud to call home. I believe that can start under Joe Biden. And I believe in the United States of America. 🇺🇸
• • •
Missing some Tweet in this thread? You can try to
force a refresh
