Over the last two years, I’ve developed a habit of reflecting daily on how fortunate I am to be American, a response (or perhaps a coping mechanism) to living and serving in a country that lacks the privileges and advantages of my own. As such, this Fourth of July isn’t a particularly unique day for me. That being said, in the absence of barbeques, beer, fireworks, and fellow Americans, I thought I’d celebrate our day of independence by sharing–in a lighthearted, informal, and by no means comprehensive way–a few of the reasons I’m grateful to be American for which I would take for granted had I not served in the Peace Corps.
(The usual disclaimer: Yes, there are still huge challenges in America and I am not ignorant of our deficiencies with respect to inclusiveness, inequality, political polarization, and the environment. My optimism admittedly comes from a place of privilege, having been born into favorable circumstances. I hope that as our union continues its pursuit of perfection, a larger share of Americans grow up with as few obstacles as I did.)
Our economy: The U.S. economy is remarkably innovative, creative and large, and as Americans we can not just partake of it but help shape it, too. Think of all the professions you can hold in the U.S. that are unthinkable in other countries. Freelance recipe tester? Chief Happiness Officer? It is mindblowing to me the unique ways in which many Americans apply their creativity to make their livings. Even among Americans with traditional professions (my intention is not to elevate those with quirky professions above everybody else), many carry out their work within organizations that add value to society in novel and cosmically clever ways. Meanwhile, in many countries, practically the only remunerative, formal professions are scarce and in the public sector: teacher, police office, soldier. In America we have academics who dedicate their lives to studying obscure sub-sub-sub-sub-topics of ancient Egyptian history, engineers who develop medical devices that extend and improve lives, farmers who deploy sophisticated technology to maximize crop yields while minimizing environmental impact, and urban planners who design public spaces that unite people of different socioeconomic backgrounds and promote physical activity. We have companies that are making communication increasingly frictionless, and others that in the coming decades will divorce the world's automobile fleet from its dependence on fossil fuels. There seems to be no limit to what our economy can achieve, and as Americans we get to participate actively in it.
Mobility: The sheer size of the United States, the diversity of its landscapes and the decentralized nature of its prosperity–amid cultural and linguistic consistency that unites Americans from Seattle to Miami–is an incredible asset. Many countries, including great ones like the United Kingdom and Japan, are characterized by one of my favorite marvels of academic jargon, “urban macrocephaly”. Urban macrocephaly refers to a country in which opportunity and economic activity are overwhelmingly concentrated in the principal city. El Salvador is an urban macrocephalic country; if you’re a well-educated, globalized, ambitious Salvadoran, the only domestic destination for you is San Salvador, the capital. If you don't like the weather there, or you find the high crime rate stifling and stressful, too bad; you have nowhere else to go within your country. In America, sure, we have New York, our global megacity. But we also have a multitude of other fantastically dynamic places, from urban giants like Chicago and Houston, to regional anchors like Minneapolis and Atlanta, to small talent and innovation hubs like Madison and Boulder. If you're more of a country mouse, America's vast expanse, physical beauty, and agricultural prowess offer no shortage of rural settings that offer meaningful opportunities as well. This is not to mention the distinct climates and cultural nuances of different regions of the U.S. In short, as Americans we have the privilege to choose from an incredibly rich and diverse panoply of places to live within the border of our own country. Furthermore, our culture of personal autonomy empowers us to seize this advantage; charting your own course in an unfamiliar city, for instance, is a common American experience.
Multiculturalism: I distinctly recall the first time I discovered that as an American, I simply take cultural diversity as a given. The first time I left the U.S. was when I went to Mexico at age sixteen on a three-week trip led by a Spanish teacher at my high school. The twenty-or-so teenagers taking part in the trip lived with host families in Cuernavaca, where we took Spanish classes at a local institute. Early in my stay, my host mother, Lourdes, asked me if my school was diverse, and I answered that it wasn't. It was mostly white, I told her, but with a handful of Latinos, Asian Americans and African Americans. I had never been conditioned to think of southern Marin County, where I'm from, as culturally diverse, as it is so much whiter than much of the rest of California. Lourdes' reaction to my answer (a simple, "Wow, that seems pretty diverse to me. Here, everyone's pretty much the same."), however, challenged me to think about how living among a multicultural population is a natural feature of American life. Living in El Salvador, where virtually everyone is mestizo, has dramatically deepened my appreciation for the extent to which cultural diversity enriches American society. No aspect of our society is not enhanced by America's diversity, from art, academia, and business to politics and food, and our openness and attractiveness to new arrivals from all over the world represents a distinct advantage over other places.
Also, now we've got gay marriage! Happy birthday, America! I'm fortunate to know you and I'll see you in September.
