How does it feel to be an American? We asked, and you answered.

Boston Globe

11 hours ago

We heard from schoolteachers, IT professionals, musicians, veterans, retirees, and caregivers. Above all, we heard from a pool of people deeply committed to the American project.
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Pride, betrayal, and duty: A veteran's call to lead by example
Ian Thomson, military veteran and entrepreneur, Cape Town, South Africa
Born abroad to American and Colombian parents, raised across cultures and continents, educated at Boston University, my identity was never simple. At 18, I consciously chose America; not out of obligation but out of admiration for its core values. My commitment deepened when I joined the Marines, eager to embody and defend the principles that drew me: liberty, equality of opportunity, and the promise of justice for all.
I finally felt that my American-ness was unquestionable when I first pinned on the Eagle, Globe, and Anchor at the end of officer candidate school, where the motto was 'ductus exemplo' — imploring us to lead by example.
Those ideals were tested when strict rules of engagement clashed with my conscience: facing an injured child in a war zone, I chose humanitarian compassion over military compliance (and I was proud that in that moment I served my country faithfully). It was a reminder of the paradox of law, that sometimes obedience becomes complicity, and disobedience becomes our duty. Rosa Parks broke the law —
and she was right.
Nazi concentration camp guards, tobacco executives, and Enron accountants all hid behind the law — and they were wrong. Morality does not reside in compliance; it resides in conscience.
Today, however, my American pride is tinged with a sense of betrayal — not solely by leaders acting in self-interest, but by my fellow Americans, whose silence and acceptance of falsehoods allow dangerous narratives pushed by our leaders to flourish. Recent events remind us how easily power cloaks itself in moral pretense.
This July Fourth, let's reaffirm our commitment to integrity and beat the odds that suggest our decline is inevitable. Preserving a nation worthy of its promise can't be relegated only to those wearing a uniform; it is the duty of all Americans who believe that through leading by example, with honesty and accountability, we can truly be free.
Finding America in conversations with strangers
Alex Chueh, writer, Cambridge
Our nation brims with stories about hopeful souls formulating plans that imbue life with purpose; striving, scheming, American dreaming. An American's initial impulse isn't
why?
, but
why not?
I learned this firsthand by hatching my own shamelessly ambitious project: meeting someone new every single day. Since Nov. 20, 2022, no day has gone by without me talking to a stranger. America responded with a resounding,
hell yeah!
Initially I prepared to get blown off. But most Americans I chatted up at coffee shops or city parks lit up with excitement, intuitively connecting with me. Time and again, these spontaneous conversations have gifted me with unforgettable stories and lifelong friendships.
Why has it worked? Americans are remarkably open, shockingly willing to unspool their lives to a stranger. (I learn at least one family inside joke a week.) From Iowa cornfields to the Maine coast, rifle clubs to yoga studios, and factory workers to literature PhDs, American openness transcends cultural divides. My journal holds endless scarcely believable examples: Yup, I really did get an impromptu shooting lesson from Appalachian teens eating at a roadside pizza shop.
No wonder I've found America a delightful place to meet people, and an even better place to be myself.
A plea for a better America
Reya Kumar, communications specialist, Boston
Every Fourth of July, I write an Instagram post about how I felt about America that year. It's a way to wrestle with my complicated relationship with my American identity. When I think about America, I'm caught between frustration at our failures and an unshakeable hope for what this country has the capacity to be.
I grew up saying the Pledge of Allegiance every morning at school, believing deeply in the promise of 'liberty and justice for all.' Even when I'm sorely disappointed in our leaders and systems, I could never imagine leaving. This country is too much a part of who I am, even when it breaks my heart.
This Fourth of July feels different. We're celebrating independence from a king while our president
But that's exactly why I refuse to write off this country. The most beautiful thing about America is that we have the capacity to change it. From abolishing slavery to winning marriage equality, our history is one of imperfect progress — messy, slow, but real.
Being American means holding two truths simultaneously: loving your country enough to demand better from it, and believing that better is possible.
Upholding American values: A daily fight against fear
Elliot, nurse, Hampshire County
My grandparents came here from Latin America with their two young sons and truly lived the American dream. I've heard stories of how my dad earned his pocket money in the garage of his childhood home, helping his dad machine munitions casings for the military when he wasn't working at the factory.
Now I worry that my 93-year-old grandmother will be stopped and something about her — her accent, the way she dresses, the color of her skin or hair — will give some power-hungry bureaucrat the excuse to say she doesn't belong.
I'm also a transgender nurse, who works in transgender health care. I spend every day reassuring my patients that we are still here, still providing the lifesaving care they need, as long as we possibly can. Then I go home and wonder if I'll still have access to the care I need in 3 months, 6 months, a year.
Some days I live in panic that America can't come back from this, at least not an America I can be proud to belong to.
Most days I try to make my little pocket of America a place that lives up to its values. That means volunteering for community meals; honking support for the protesters and the picket lines; attending the local civic association meetings, even when they bore me out of my mind; and comforting my partner when
It means doing something, doing anything, doing everything I can, to feel like there could be good in this place, despite the evidence.
The dream isn't dead
Jon Dickinson, tech entrepreneur, Portsmouth, N.H.
My first memory was being one of three kids under five, gloriously crammed into an 800-square-foot rental with my parents and a dog.
My parents worked multiple jobs to make ends meet. My grandparents and aunt helped raise us, offering laughter, love, and structure.
With little time to supervise, my parents gave us independence, as long as we did our chores and followed the rules. Freedom came with responsibility. Strict discipline ensured I respected boundaries.
I was expected to be courteous, hold a job, save money, and pay for college. Weeks after graduating college, I moved from Wisconsin to Boston with a suitcase, $375, and full confidence I'd find success. I couch-surfed and slept on floors for a few months. I worked retail by day and was a bouncer at night to make ends meet. When I finally landed a job in tech, I poured everything into the opportunity, became successful, and bought a business.
I honor my parents by showing my children the same mettle and passion they showed me. My work has taken me all over the US, where I've made amazing friends and been involved in exciting projects.
Some say the American dream is dead. I don't buy it. Too many are distracted by media outrage, virtue signaling, and curated personal narratives. Opportunities exist for everyone but are won only when you hold yourself accountable for your own success.
Our country is becoming what immigrants once tried to escape
Juan Wulff, student, Needham
I grew up in Venezuela missing school because of protests and riots, watching my parents' universities crumble, and hearing constant talk about inflation and the economy. So when I immigrated to the United States at age 8, the latter part of 'Venezuelan American' felt like a new, fresh part of my identity.
At school I memorized the Pledge of Allegiance, caught up on American media, and made American friends with my American accent. Later, when my parents were naturalized, I finally felt
really
American.
Since then, I have fulfilled my parents' American dreams and will go to college. Yet I am entering a university fighting for its existence with a federal government that is trying to silence it. I live in an America where my people are hated, disappeared, and separated from their loved ones. I am American in an America I no longer recognize, one that looks like the place from which I escaped.
A young first-generation American still hopeful for its opportunities
Michael Barbalat, high schooler, Newton
My parents and grandparents came to this country from the Soviet Union. When they arrived, they didn't have job guarantees, they didn't have a plan, they didn't even speak much English.
But they believed America would give them a chance to start again. And it did. I grew up hearing their stories at the dinner table and, even as a kid, I understood that being here meant being able to speak your mind, choose your own path, and live without fear.
For me, being American means having the freedom to think for yourself. It means being able to build your life in a way that feels right to you, without having to follow a predetermined path. It's not always easy, it's not promised, and it's definitely not perfect, but there's something unique and amazing about the idea that in this country your future is, in many ways, up to you.
Optimistic that brighter days are ahead
Casey Tylek, military veteran and research scientist, Leominster
I'm as proud to be an American as I ever was. I carry on the tradition of this country, in being a perpetual optimist, never believing that something can't be done or accomplished.
Whether it was in the taverns in the 1700s where independence was born, the Wright brothers believing they could fly, scientists working to put men on the moon, or Martin Luther King Jr. taking on the most powerful government on earth in pursuit of equal rights, this country has always inspired the idea that there are better days ahead, and is full of people working to accomplish that.
Whether your beliefs align with the current leaders, or clash with them — America will move forward with constant innovation and tranquility.
A mother fears that the worst of our culture has prevailed
Sophia Carroll, mother and writer, Concord
I was an exchange student to East Germany in 1994, soon after reunification, and people were so excited to meet their first American. My world was free from so much they had endured: widespread censorship, surveillance and arrests, the romanticizing of mindless factory work, economic stagnation, and corrupt officials who took orders from Russia. Layered structures of intimidation protected those with power by keeping regular people silent, stressed out, and poor.
Now half of America seems to be naïvely embracing similar treatment from our own government. I wish those who rage against illegal immigrants would ask themselves: Isn't it better to live in a country that people are sneaking into than one they sneak out of?
If we continue following Trump down his embarrassing gold-tone escalator, it will be a tragic fate for our once-great nation. People who live surrounded by fear are not free.
Conflicted, worried, but still proud
Joshua, data technician, Newton
I've long held contradictory feelings as an American. There is a great democratic heritage in this country to be proud of: the
But hypocrisy, inequality, and ignorance are American, too. We've fallen for demagogues and snake-oil salesmen before. Reconstruction was followed by a century of terror against freedmen; our democracy has been stunted by disenfranchisement; the financial oligarchy has now totally captured the state and is using it to claw back all the working-class gains of the past century.
Despite everything, despite feeling some days like America neither wants me, its native son, nor my wife, an immigrant, I'm proud of the America of Tom Paine and Sam Adams, of Frederick Douglass and John Brown, of Abraham Lincoln and Ulysses S. Grant, of Eugene Debs and John Reed, of Medgar Evers and Viola Liuzzo, of
Editors: Jim Dao, Rebecca Spiess. Digital editor: Rami Abou-Sabe. Audience engagement editor: Karissa Korman. Copy editor: Karen Schlosberg. Podcast: Katelyn Harrop and Shirley Leung.