4th of July weekend is tough for 1st gen immigrants. You are reminded that you don't belong, and you have a tremendous opportunity to work towards belonging. You are judged by locals if you downplay it, and you are also judged by family and friends back home if you promote it.
And there lie two powerful lessons that should suffice to help people across the aisle.
Do you think your immigrant neighbors are ungrateful? Maybe they don't know how to process peer pressure…
Are you labeling that nosy neighbor who invites you to a party that it's not meant for you? Maybe the invitation is bigger than you realize and embracing it is a huge step you can take in the right direction.
But in all honesty, that would be a boilerplate opinion article if I stopped there. Maybe I should, maybe it would be more algorithm-friendly, maybe I should take AI's advice to keep it cordial.
But I have more to say, and heaven knows I'm not easily persuaded to keep my opinions unvoiced.
So here it is… how I really feel about it.
Beyond the previously stated normal defense mechanism people experience at events that function as "reality checks" according to the parts of our lives celebrated on such dates (like a couple struggling to have kids hating Mother's Day, for example), my journey includes another flavor.
I went all in! As I always do... I believe honoring the community that you are a part of is crucial for your personal and family development. Did it in Uruguay, did it in Mexico, where I spent almost a decade, and did it here a decade ago when I first set foot in a small town in California.
Did it all... Citywide pancake breakfast, made it a family tradition to grill, and I made sure I had watermelon, corn, and apple pie… I don't even like apple pie. I'm a key lime pie guy.
I faced all of it. The people giving me tips on how to make the most of it, the backlash of people asking me if I forgot where I came from... and the impostor syndrome. A Monday morning when you are a cross-cultural missionary overseas. That wasn't a problem.
Then I started to see that, no matter how hard I tried, there were conversations and places where I wasn't being considered as an equal.
The conversations always included me as "the other." My culture, my theology, my experience were always understood as "2 firmware updates behind."
I was an adult hearing the "you will understand it when you grow up" dad advice.
And, of course, a cultured kid who went to private school, grew up stimulated by Benedetti, Ruben Darío, Bach, Pink Floyd, and Karl Barth, who lived in 3 countries and holds 3 university degrees from 3 different countries... didn't do well in that environment. It felt like the "you will get it when you catch up" dad lesson was given by an abusive, flat-young-earther and un-passported dad... and I didn't buy it.
So, inevitably, 4th of July weekends began to deteriorate. And the 249th was my come-to-Jesus moment.
I remember vividly hearing the national anthem. As a first-gen, you don't know what to do. Do I put my hand over my heart? Will they think I'm pretending if I do? Is this like trying to vote without being a citizen??? Or what if I forget the lyrics?
Pause for a sec... do you know the words to another national anthem besides the one you heard all your life? I know three (and I have opinions about them, lol)!!
Those are the normal questions that your brain fires at you when you're there.
But not this time... this time was different, like a post-grenade sound effect. It was distant, it was bizarre, it felt just wrong....
I remember feeling othered as I've never felt before.
I'll spare you the details because my story was no different than what 90% of first-generation immigrants experience. You have heard the story with different names if you are interested at all, and if not, you've denied it before, so there's no benefit in the particulars of my lived experience. It's the normal development of circumstances... You make what you will of it.
So here we are... 4th of July weekend, and I feel as though I've been pushed back the 6,530 miles I traveled to come here.
But God, who witnessed it all, wasn't going to allow our journey to end like a Horacio Quiroga tale. He brought hope.
Today I wholeheartedly celebrate the 250th anniversary of the USA.
I do so because I am months away from becoming a U.S. citizen, and that will partially reduce the vulnerability that has been leveraged against me.
I do so because the last year has shown me there are beautiful people and places where I am considered an equal, regardless of my alignment percentage... and that is what the truth that sets people free does to you.
I do so because it took me 9 years to find the peers I want to assimilate into. An America I don't hesitate to welcome into my heart. One that actually has room for the people I ministered to for a decade and me.
Cheers to the America that sees all men (landlords and tenants, and women, and 5/5ths of them) as equal. And to add my own Uruguayan flair to it... cheers to those who:
"...grow accustomed to considering themselves equals, recognizing no other differences than those resulting from the aptitudes and virtues of each individual."
— José Pedro Varela (the Uruguayan equivalent of Horace Mann)
As I await my naturalization interview, I've got just one thing left to say:
Put me in, Coach. I'm ready.