The other day, just for fun, I called and spoke to somebody who lives on one of the Aleutian Islands — the beautiful archipelago stretching westward from the southwestern mainland of Alaska toward Russia. I was studying a world map with my daughters when I figured, Hey, we can actually try to call somebody who lives on one of those remote islands! So I did, and I made contact with a worker at a local bar. As it turned out, the bar wasn’t particularly busy, so she was thrilled to chat, and so we spoke for quite a while.
She got quite a kick out of the fact that I had just pointed to a place on the map and told my daughters that we’d try to call somebody there. As for me, I get a kick out of the fact that we have so much amazing technology at our fingertips — the kinds of technology that would mystify our ancestors — yet we hardly ever take full advantage of it. I said, It’s amazing that I can just pick up my phone, look up a place in one of the remotest parts of America, and call it — and then, suddenly, we’re talking.
She agreed.
All in all, we had a really fun and fascinating chat, talking about the TV series Deadliest Catch, the Japanese invasion of the island during World War II, and the bunkers, tunnels, and gun emplacements that were built by the Japanese during the war — many of which remain to this day. These sites are open to visitors, as is the island’s museum, which pays tribute to the events that transpired on the island during the war.
Over the course of the conversation, I eventually discovered that her family was from North Dakota but that she was born and raised on the mainland in Alaska.
When she said this, I exclaimed, “Wow, so you’re a real Alaskan, born and raised!”
She responded, “But I don’t have any Alaskan blood.”
By that, of course, she was referring to the indigenous groups — including the Iñupiat, Yupik, Aleut, Eyak, Tlingit, Haida, Tsimshian, the Northern Athabaskan, and the Russian Creoles — who’ve called Alaska home for centuries.
The distinction here, just as it is for Hawaii, is that Alaska is not just a state; it is an identity for a set of peoples. Indeed, it is the difference between a resident and a ‘native’ with deeply-planted roots and a lifestyle and a set of beliefs inextricably attached to the land they call home.
For this Alaskan lady living on one of the Aleutian Islands, she views herself as a particular type of Alaskan — born and raised there but not to be confused with the indigenous groups who’ve lived there for generations.
Nonetheless, she is an Alaskan. Her reluctance to assert as much, without hesitation or qualification, is not just a matter of accuracy; it’s the product of generations of Americans being thoroughly indoctrinated and shamed through public schooling and propaganda, and thereby having their sense of identity destroyed, and with it their sense of belonging.
Nowhere is this more apparent than on the matter of what it means to be an American.
As for being an American, there are those who merely reside in America and thus qualify as ‘Americans’; there are indigenous groups often regarded collectively as ‘Native Americans’, but who independently identify themselves by the names of their respective tribes; then there are ‘naturalized’ citizens of America who may not even identify as ‘Americans’, or who may not even associate with American ideas or traditions, and who may even condemn or distance themselves from them, but they too are classified as ‘Americans’, simply for becoming citizens; then there are ‘Americans’ who were born and raised in America, whose own parents were also born in America, and yet who have come to reject or denounce American ideas and traditions, many even going so far as to demand that their fellow Americans do the same, and that they make their voices heard as they announce their defection; and then there are ‘Americans’ who strongly adhere to American beliefs and traditions, who are ‘true-blood’ Americans — ‘patriots’ — who connect with the land, who drink from the streams, who pursue intimate understanding and lasting preservation of their country’s history, heritage, and legacy — the founding principles which have set their country apart from others. From those in the latter camp, ‘being an American’ is more than being a resident of America — it is a cultural and even spiritual identity, not unlike the many who pride themselves as Choctaw, Cherokee, Sioux, et cetera, who in their daily lives, customs, rituals and superstitions, pay homage to their ancestors and honor the unique identities which represent the greatest inheritance of any people.
It is in this way that the discussion around ‘what it means to be an American’ is often confusing for people who don’t realize, or who refuse to acknowledge, that being a true American is much more than a kind of citizenship status.
Where the title ‘American’ is treated as nothing more than just that — a kind of citizenship status — there is virtually nothing to it, as it then comes to describe little more than a person’s geographical location on the globe; a nominal classification prescribed through government bodies as opposed to an identity describing a person uniquely connected to that land, a person worth calling and getting to know, and an identity substantiated through the unique ideas and institutions that define a people.
Where that becomes the case, there is then nothing to defend — there is nothing of substance in such a neutered term which otherwise, in its full and fertile form, unifies a people around common ideas and shared concepts of goodness, community, justice, ethics, morality, faith, family and proper decorum; the pillars of any society enjoying the intangibles of peace, purpose, trust, and harmony.
And where other such groups — either within America or outside of its borders — maintain a stronger sense of identity (as described), it is the ‘true-blood’ American who is gradually squeezed out of existence, along with his precious principles and the ideas, institutions, and intangibles which make ‘America’ the exceptional place that it is — the kind of place that keeps people wanting to become ‘Americans’, even despite the fact that so few (and progressively fewer in the modern age) know what it means to be one; and despite the fact that so many come to America, from their own home countries, only to (by neglecting to learn or refusing to assimilate) make ‘true-blood Americans’ feel like foreigners in their own.
For the sake of our own self-preservation, to secure the blessings of liberty to ourselves and our posterity, and to ensure that our children and theirs will have some place in this world to call home, it is our duty, as ‘true-blood Americans’, to honor the stake and the unique title we’ve inherited.
It is incumbent upon each of us to remind all ‘Americans’ of the costs paid, the sacrifices made, and the distinctions between ‘coming to America’ and ‘being an American’; that they may be ‘American’ by citizenship but that, in remaining here in our country, we expect them to embrace ‘being an American’ by culture and decorum; to adhere to the expectations of citizenship and to give their allegiance to ‘American liberty’ and the principles which have made this country exceptional and worth migrating to, and which have kept the flame burning brightly as the shining beacon of liberty and prosperity the world over.
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