Sarah Smith Blog 2: From Many Places, Including Here

Where am I from? I'm from the western suburbs of Chicago. That's what I say. To be frank, rarely in my life have people sought another answer from me. My hometown, my school, and my circles of friends have nearly always been predominately white, predominately American for many generations. My best friend from middle school to the present day is a first generation American who was born in England, where her Nigerian parents had immigrated for schooling and then stayed (their story has some commonalities with that of Victoria's parents) for many years before moving to the US. Her heritage was unique within our school community. I remember her explaining many times that she was African, but not an African American. Her history was Nigerian rather than American. In retrospect it doesn't seem that complicated, but as a twelve-year-old in our environment, it was a novelty.

I have always seen myself as simply American. My family does not celebrate our national heritage except for a fruitcake-like pastry called stollen that my grandmother would order from Dresden each Christmas. Most of us didn't like stollen, though, so no one really talked about it or about any related heritage. We are just, in my eyes, Americans. All of our relatives are here, and we've been in the Midwest for as many generations as are ever referenced.

I'm a religious studies major, and the Abrahamic religious tradition are where I have drawn my conception of nation. In Genesis, God promises Abraham that he will make him a great nation. Nation, a group of people with common birth, is distinct from a state, which suggests a physical location. Abraham and his descendants (i.e., his nation) were nomadic. They moved around from place to place. The Biblical nation of Israel was a people united by common birth.

While somewhere some generations back my family tree ties me to the Netherlands, Germany, and the British Isles, my nation is here. I was born here, as were my parents and my grandparents and my great-grandparents. I don't deny my heritage, and I am not ashamed of it, but I also don't cling too tightly to it and I don't feel badly about that. My heritage ties me to many peoples, but I believe that first and foremost I am an American. For much of my life I felt badly about that, bored of my deep-seated American identity, and envying the wealth of cultural traditions a few of my friends' families held. That ill-feeling has been changing in recent years, and particularly this summer through my work with a refugee resettlement organization outside of Chicago. Refugees leave their home countries not by choice but because of oppression. Many of them are resettled here, in the United States--which I claim as my nation. It struck me that I am fortunate enough to call this place home, this place that others flee to out of their oppression. That is a blessing and I am grateful. Over time, and through the generations, the web of people from foreign places ties itself together here: new births connect us to each other, so that while we come from many places we also share this nation. I think it is good to know where we come from, but that should not trivialize where we are now and who we share it with.

A few years ago, my friend who I mentioned above chose to become an American citizen. She loves her Nigerian heritage, but she also appreciates the United States and has been active in advocacy since gaining citizenship. Both her heritage and her present are significant. While we spent time in class debating whether one woman should or should not have played the many roles in Twilight, I thought the portrayal was powerful because it connected people who might otherwise seem entirely disconnected. We may have all once come from different places, but we also come from here, from this nation, and, cliche as it sounds, I believe that links us together.