Why I Do Not Proudly Wave the American Flag

Whenever I am having a good day — whether I did well on a midterm or caught up with a friend who I hadn’t seen in a while — a quick glance at the major national news headlines almost unfailingly dampens my mood. Although every day brings tidings of countless distressing matters occurring worldwide, my own country — the United States — occupies the largest fraction of my daily thoughts. In particular, I’ve found myself appalled at a recent slew of new laws restricting Americans’ fundamental rights and threatening the lives of vulnerable groups across the country.

Apart from undermining the values that our nation was purportedly founded upon, these laws demonstrate a complete rejection of basic standards of humanity. They — and, more importantly, the leaders and political culture that have created them — speak volumes about the nation we live in. They clearly exemplify why I do not proudly wave the American flag.

Only days after a mass shooter killed several elementary schoolers and faculty members at The Covenant School in Nashville, lawmakers in Florida responded by intensifying our national love affair with guns. Governor Ron DeSantis signed a bill passed by the state legislature eliminating current laws that require a state license to carry concealed, loaded firearms.

As children continue to die within the walls of the very buildings where they should feel the safest, policymakers actively create the conditions for bullets to deprive them of life — supposedly a guarantee of the Constitution — before they even learn algebra.

Lawmakers’ outright refusal to protect vulnerable groups is also apparent in the unprecedented wave of legislation putting the lives of trans Americans at risk. One survey found that over 50 percent of trans and non-binary young people throughout the United States considered committing suicide just last year. Just a few months later, the Kentucky legislature voted to override the governor’s veto of a bill that would prohibit doctors from providing gender-affirming care to trans youth and prevent school districts from even recommending that students be addressed using their preferred pronouns.

Kentucky isn’t alone — at least 10 other states have passed similar bills, including Arizona, Georgia, Iowa, and Utah. With every vote to prevent a transgender child from accessing the medical care that they should be entitled to, our elected officials make a mockery of “liberty and justice for all.”

The pure callousness with which many U.S. legislators operate is further exemplified in fierce attacks on abortion rights in the wake of the overturning of Roe v. Wade. Idaho state senators have not only severely restricted abortion access for women within the state — who are 35 percent more likely than men to live below the poverty line nationally — but have also made it a criminal offense to assist a minor in crossing state lines to obtain an abortion. Elected officials’ promises to “promote the general welfare” have become hollow pledges uttered simply to gain entrance to legislative chambers and pursue precisely the opposite mission once inside.

Time and time again, presidential hopefuls have stood at podiums throughout the nation asking for our vote to lead the “greatest country in the world.” Yet the U.S. consistently ranks first among high-income countries in matters that only produce embarrassment: maternal mortality rates, gun violence, suicide rates, income inequality, just to name a few.

So when I list all of the identities that I take pride in, being a citizen of the United States unfortunately does not make the cut. I cannot be proud of a nation that has eroded my optimism so thoroughly that I have to mentally prepare myself for the fear and disillusionment that comes with reading the news every day.

In a republic, our elected officials are meant to represent the values we hold as a nation. Their consistent failure to keep the people they are tasked with protecting alive, not by virtue of simple misfortune but by a sheer lack of compassion and humanity, stamps out any desire I could possibly have to proudly wave the American flag.

When my parents immigrated to the U.S. to provide their children with greater opportunities for health and prosperity, they did not envision a nation in which only pure chance prevents their kids from becoming part of an ever-increasing statistic of children who die while obtaining the very education that should ensure their success.

I am nevertheless grateful for my parents’ decision — I am not ignorant of the advantages that growing up in this country has afforded me, such as the immense privilege of being a student at the wealthiest university in the world. However, this does not justify the uncritical American exceptionalism that characterizes our national politics. The U.S. is the only country I have ever known as my home, but it is far from earning my admiration.

This piece should not be construed as a surrender to pessimism. While I rebuke the decisions of political leaders across the country, I simultaneously witness uplifting efforts on this campus that sustain my hope that I will one day live in a country that I can be proud of. From launching campaigns to dename spaces that uphold the legacy of enslavers to running homeless shelters and seeking to hold professors accountable for sexual misconduct, the students around me give me faith that our generation of leaders and visionaries can redirect our nation toward embodying the ideals that its founders proclaimed nearly 250 years ago.

Today, my answer to the question “Are you proud to be American?” is “no” without hesitation. But I hope that one day, I can at least pause and reconsider before responding — even if a resounding “yes” escapes my lifetime.

Ericka S. Familia ’25, a Crimson Editorial editor, is a Social Studies concentrator in Adams House.