When I was a teacher, a great deal of my time was taken up with helping children to manage their social lives. A lot of time was spent helping the kids deal with their anger and frustration as they interacted with other kids.
I have a very clear memory of one intervention. A little boy had been somewhat unkind to his classmate. He didn’t think he’d been mean, of course. He thought that he had just stated the obvious. But his “obvious” was painful and cruel, and his classmate was in tears.
I let each of the kids express themselves, without interruption or response. Then I addressed the child who had been rude.
“Do you think you should apologize to your classmate, and tell them that you didn’t intend to be hurtful?”
His response was unsurprising, but it was also frustrating.
“Why do I need to say that I was bad?”, he asked.
I took a breath.
“Nobody is calling you bad,” I began. “In fact, I know you well enough to know that you are not a bad kid. You are not mean. But your words hurt your classmate.”
It took some time, and a good deal of patience. But eventually, this little ten year old child was able to apologize for the actions that had caused pain. He was able to talk to me about the fact that he hoped he could learn not to say hurtful things.
Self-reflection was a gift to this little boy. Self-reflection helped him, as it helps all of us, to move forward towards a better future. This tender hearted little person chose to look closely at his actions so that he could slowly and carefully become a better human being.
The chance to look at our actions, our words, our beliefs. A chance to improve ourselves as human being, in an effort to make the world a somewhat better place for other human beings.
Seems like a worthy activity for a ten year old, right? Stop being mean on the playground. Stop saying mean things. Don’t laugh at your friends when they struggle. Be kind. Be good. Be helpful.
Every adult I have ever met in my 65 years of life would applaud the efforts of this little child, and would congratulate him on trying to be a better person.
Why is it so upsetting and unpatriotic when we ask our country to do the same self-reflection? Why do so many Americans see this kind of introspection as an attack?
I don’t know.
But I don’t like it.
As an old white lady, I am certainly full of self reflection when I look back on the beliefs of my childhood. I was raised in an upper-middle-class white suburb of Boston. My parents were first generation Americans who thought of themselves as open minded and accepting. And they were, within the context of the 1960s in Massachusetts.
I certainly believed myself to be a nice, non-racist, good person.
But you know what?
When I went to college and met people from a hundred different backgrounds, I realized that even though I meant well, I had whole lot to learn about the world around me. I learned that the United States was NOT always seen as a benevolent and kind benefactor. I learned that in spite of what I’d been taught, slavery was not a short term, temporary financial system that helped to create the “greatest nation in the history of the world.”
I learned a lot.
And I am still learning.
I am learning about the Tulsa Race Massacre. And the history of the KKK. I am learning about the horrific crimes committed by the CIA in the 50s and 60s.
I am reflecting on the history of the country in which I live. The country where I was born. I am looking at this nation with the eyes of one who wants to be better. One who wants to understand what lead to our triumphs and to our losses.
I am self-reflecting.
Shouldn’t we all be doing that? Shouldn’t every citizen of every nation be looking at their history and assessing what has been good and what has been a mistake? Shouldn’t we all be emulating my young student as we try to become something a bit better than what we were before?
For most of my adult life, every time I’ve questioned the actions of my government, I’ve been met with something akin to the phrase, “America; love it or leave it!”
The implication has always been that if I question any aspect of my government’s actions, I must hate America and I should immediately leave.
I’ve been called a “Russky” and a “Commie” when I’ve questioned the wisdom and morality of the US invasions of Iraq and Afghanistan. I’ve been told that I should pack up and move to China when I’ve complained about the inflated power of corporate lobbyists in the creation of our national laws.
Worst of all, though?
The worst part of this, to me, is the fact that I have been accused of “hating” my country when I question her commitment to equality.
Because I believe that Black Lives Matter, I’ve been told that I hate the American dream. Because I have stated my support for gender equality and full acceptance of my gay fellow citizens, I’ve been told that I despise the very ideals on which this country was founded.
And so I find myself troubled, angry and bewildered. I find myself with only one response at hand.
That’s all I have to say to those to want to claim that any self-reflection on the part of this American society is an exercise in self-loathing.
I question the founding principles of this nation, which were based upon the rights of land-owning white men.
I question the legitimacy of our story line, in which we crow about our love of “equality” and “freedom”.
I question the wisdom of pledging allegiance to a piece of cloth, and of demanding that our children blindly do the same.
I am reflecting deeply on the creation of our country. I am acutely aware of all of the good that has been accomplished within our borders. I am grateful for the fact that my grandparents were welcomed here as immigrants, even as I acknowledge the fact that it was their desperation and their willingness to work for pennies that opened that door to them.
I am an American.
I am a teacher.
I am aware that without self-reflection and an honest look at ourselves, there can be no progress, no growth, no better future.
Because I am an American patriot, I believe that it is my duty to reflect honestly on all that has made this country successful. But I believe just as firmly that is my duty to reflect honestly on all of the mistakes, failures, crimes and injustices that have paved our way to this moment.
America: Love it by asking every single day that it become something even better and stronger than it was yesterday.
6 thoughts on “Self Reflection or Self Loathing?”
I seriously doubt your grandparents were welcomed with open arms. No one has ever been welcomed who didn’t fit into a particular community that might not have been accepted in other circles if not downright mistreated. My grandfather was well versed in every ethnic label that wasn’t his own. By the time he died, though, he had welcomed a Columbian son-in-law, and eventually Jewish, Catholic , and Chinese, and Czech husbands of granddaughters into his waspish family. He was of Pennslyvania Dutch stock and my grandmother was a member of the DAR. They grew and changed with the times just as my parents did and I have and now my children and grandchildren have.
The meaning of our founding symbols has changed as well and I hope will continue to change. When I recited the Pledge of Allegiance on obligatory occasions when I was teaching in a minority community, I started to add on to the end two words–”some day.” It became so obvious that to me that what my students had not experienced the same level of citizenship as I had, but I wanted them to hope that some day all the promises would be theirs, too. So, to me, that pledge is to an ideal, something to strive for. I’m with you; we won’t get there if we don’t recognize that we still fall short.
Ah, you’re right! My grandparents were “welcome” because Boston needed manual laborers who’d work for poverty wages. S. Italy was desperately poor in the early 20th century. They came here and faced all of the prejudice of the poor immigrant. When I was teaching, I refused to have my class recite the pledge until we had carefully discussed every word so that they’d understand what they were saying. Above all, I wanted them to understand the meaning of “pledge allegience”. I also stressed that reciting the words was purely voluntary; I had a few kids over the years who refused and I always made sure their choice was respected. Oi, what a world.
You’re right, many immigrants were not welcomed with open arms. Not then, not now.
And some people looked askance at people of different races, religions, and ethnic groups, even at those whose families have been here for several generations or more.
(When I was a freshman in high school, my history teacher called me a “Dirty Greek.”)
One hundred years ago, a white mob in Tulsa, Okla., attacked and destroyed Greenwood, a neighborhood that had been one of the most prosperous Black communities in the country. The mob’s anger was in part a reaction to Black Tulsans who had come downtown to prevent a lynching, but more broadly it was inspired by a sense of rage at the success of the Greenwood neighborhood
Is that correct?
I think it is correct, yes. I’m still learning about this horrific event, which was NEVER mentioned in my learning or teaching lives.
Reblogged this on Politicians Are Poody Heads.