in a complicated relationship with... America

As a weekend of red, white and blue everything looms, one cannot help but reevaluate the state of the country. As I do with almost everything, I see it as a relationship. 

My “relationship” with this country has now reached a twenty-year anniversary. This piece is a way of me saying, “Happy anni! I hate you. I hate what you put me through. But, I wouldn’t want to be anywhere else. Here’s how you have to change.” 

Someone please frost that on a cake or write it in the sky. 

Here’s the story behind our little “love” story. 

The Meet-Cute

My family immigrated to the States to escape the Kosovo/Serbia war in 1997. I was almost three-years-old. It’s hard not to see my relationship with this country as a give-and-take. 

For example, my mind can never wrap my head around where I would be if my family had not fled. Serbians sought to “ethnically cleanse” Kosovar Albanians over the land. Another word for this is genocide! A thousand children lost their lives in the conflict. 

A church sponsored our refuge and soon we found ourselves nestled in the god-fearing valley of Knoxville, Tennessee. Clearly, I am grateful. But growing up had its fair share of hardships. Anyone of a different ethnicity or nationality in the south understands this. If you’re not a WASP, good luck! 

The First Fight 

As I grew up in America and spent my summers in Kosovo, I found myself torn between identities. As many diaspora members reflect, I was caught in a purgatory of two identities, never quite fitting in to one or the other. I was never quite at home in Kosovo, but never fully accepted in America either. 

As I grow older, I find that my American identity coexists with my Albanian identity. I am both at the same time; one never overtakes the other. Being Albanian does not make me any less American --in fact-- it should actually make me more American. 

The first settlers of this nation were refugees. To ever reject them, even hundreds of years later, is a blatant contradiction. To then take the next step and rid them of their culture to fit an “American” mold refutes the very values this country should stand on. 

But the U.S., besides the nice pockets of utopias I’ve heard about (idk somewhere in California probably?), circumvents the “melting pot” or “salad” of cultures. This is no surprise, since the nation was literally built on racism and ethnocentrism.

So, I find myself in a toxic relationship with my now home. 

I want to be clear, I still benefit from white privilege, but I have faced many obstacles as a immigrant, woman and Muslim. Also, somehow no one can figure out how to pronounce my name? 

As current events illustrate, this country doesn’t give a shit about me or anyone else who does not fall behind the WASP shield.  I cannot pack my bags and leave, so what is there to do? 

Taking it to the Next Level

The future of this nation, whether we have to burn it to the ground or not, is up to people like you and me. Although you can’t change a shitty boyfriend, you can definitely change the country you exist in. 

Like any relationship that you want to survive and flourish, you have to put the work in. Call your representatives, vote in local elections, vote in national elections, protest for change, donate to bail funds, and more. 

My articles have focused on showing love to others and yourself. I now ask you to take care of the home in which you live. 

As I’ve grown to become more confident in my identity, I’ve become more comfortable taking up space. I am now taking that space and filling it with love. Love for me, love for you, love for anyone that needs it. I highly recommend it to any and everyone. 

So, instead of celebrating a nation that has failed its citizens with explosive patriotism this weekend, research the ways you can do your part to fix it. No matter how small it may be, bring as little or large of a light as you can. Be a sparkler. Together, we’ll join forces to ignite the fire of revolution, for unity, justice, and love.