I'd like to put into words just how much the election results in the United States mean to me even though I’m not an American. I don't cry much, but I found, to my own surprise, that I was choking up on Tuesday night as the returns rolled in.

I was born and raised in Canada, where we don’t engage in the level of overt and unabashed patriotism of our southern neighbours. In fact, while most people spoke warmly of Americans themselves, their displays of patriotism were seen to be a bit too much, too over-the-top. Garish.

“Sure, we get being proud of your country but maybe just turn it down a notch, eh?”

As a product of this upbringing the pomp and bombast never quite resonated with me. I would say it was corny (and honestly, I still think that can be true at times). It also can’t be overlooked that many Canadians really enjoy imagining themselves as quite similar to Americans, except just a bit more humble and polite. Oh, and with fewer guns. There is a streak of smugness and superiority in there for some, too, though they generally don’t say so in polite company.
This remained my view by default for years; it was one of the many things I just accepted without really questioning it. I was just coming of age when the Twin Towers were destroyed in the terror attacks on September 11th, 2001, and vividly remember both that day and the years of fallout that resulted. My high school was closed, and the gym was converted into an emergency shelter for Americans whose flights were diverted. The whole community stepped up to donate food and supplies. That’s what good neighbours do.

The miasma of shock and disbelief that permeated those first few days quickly gave way to a resurgence of the American spirit. They showed the entire world that, while they were deeply impacted and in mourning, they were not beaten. The entire country rallied, political divisions were sidelined, and people came together to honour the fallen.

This was the first time I began to understand the positive impact of such a strong national identity. The sense of kinship was so strong I felt it myself, even though at that time I’d never set foot across the border.

This wasn’t a feeling that lasted long, unfortunately. The dual quagmires of Iraq and Afghanistan soon revealed the ugly side of patriotism. Those in power manipulated good and well-meaning people onto a dark path using their sense of duty and loyalty to their country. While nearly everyone now agrees these wars were both abysmal failures, criticisms at the time were often met with sharp accusations. “That’s unpatriotic! Why do you hate America?” I cannot express how much I loathed this rhetorical weapon, specifically its bastardization of what it means to be patriotic.