Constitution Day, and what it means to be American

Firstly, happy Constitution Day. It was this day in 1776 that the Constitution was first signed into law, so happy 221st birthday, United States Constitution!

So I’ve been thinking about this lately, what does it mean to be American? When I first started having a racial identity, I would tell people I’m Filipino. After all, that’s where my parents are from, that’s the culture they were raised in, and that’s how they raised me–as a Filipino. I have brown skin, asian features, and a small stature, so that’s why I’m Filipino.

As a young man in high school and through college, I think I started identifying myself as Filipino-American. After all, I might have been raised with Filipino values from Filipino parents, but I also learned American values from friends and media. Therefore, I am a Filipino-American, and I’ve been that way up until last year.

Last December, I read an article lamenting the rise of the hyphenated Airman, which referred to the concept of the hyphenated American. The article claimed that the hyphenated Airman implied a fundamental difference between a regular Airman and a Communications Airman, Services Airman, or a Security Forces Airman. Also last December, I heard a story at a christmas party where a man at a new job was identified as Chinese by his coworkers, even though his family was born and raised America for at least three generations.

This got me thinking, what am I? My final answer: I am an American. Born in New Jersey, raised in California. I had a whole diatribe to explain what made me come to think of this, but then I took a shit and got to thinking, “I want information fast, so I should deliver in kind”. The short and sweet of it: I’m about as Filipino as John McCain is Scottish. Just because my parents were from the Philippines, doesn’t make me Filipino. I am an American.

So, then I got to thinking, what is an American? What does it mean to be American? To me, that’s living here under the protection of the Constitution, the three branches of government, and all the people that make this great nation run each day to the best of their ability. Cynics be damned, I think I live in the nation that tries its best to provide a safe haven for all ideas and beliefs. As my friend LBW said once, we have the right to be wrong. If I express my dissent peacefully, I don’t have to worry about being next on the chopping block at the execution square. If someone works hard and takes responsibility for their own actions, they can rise to greatness in society as far as they can dream. Dad came to America and worked to get that better life that they couldn’t get in the Philippines, and you know what?… we’re doing pretty good. Just the fact that Grandpa served in the US Navy, which allowed Dad to come to America and marry Mom, and then have me and my sisters, without having to worry about paying the corrupt local officials or any such garbage… America is doing pretty well. Not perfect and there’s room for improvement, of course, but nothing is ever perfect.

I am an American. I might have a Filipino cultural background, but that’s all the Filipino I am… a cultural background. For better or for worse, I know where I come from, I am aware of the obstacles that, whether or not I deserve them, impede me from living a successful life. I accept the existence of these obstacles and I know I just have to work harder to get what I want, and thus it becomes not a question of if I can have it or not, but rather how bad do I want it. “It” being any damn thing I want.

So there you have it. I am an American, and I live in America, where the only limits to how far I can go in life is my desire, drive, and energy to work towards my goals. For anyone to claim otherwise would be patently incorrect.