My husband's dad (as a toddler) and family were imprisoned in their own home, told they were not American because of their Japanese ancestry and Buddhist traditions. Uncles (by marriage) served in the 442nd while their families were under house arrest or imprisoned in internment camps. Many neighbors turned on their Japanese-American neighbors, supported these acts, or turned a blind eye.
I've seen my husband pulled off by US airport security, pushed around, and asked, "do you even speak English?" before he could answer, even though they had his US diplomatic passport in hand. He's been repeatedly asked, "no, where are you really from?" until he explains his ancestry. This persists, even after he explains he was born and raised in Idaho, as were his parents.
Our family has been harassed for being Jewish and told we would go to hell because we do not believe in Jesus. When working at a US Embassy overseas, my husband's language teacher (unaware he was part of a Jewish family) casually told him, "Hitler should've finished the job." We've been called a "Jew" as if it were an insult, as in "you're nothing but a Jew" or "you're just a Jew, and I always knew it" or, "Hey, Jew boy." Our experiences are limited to those experienced by Japanese-American and by Jewish Americans. But, they are enough for us to understand an inkling of the fear and mistrust experienced by other minority communities.
How can anyone not understand the importance of our children learning about the events that caused this fear and mistrust? A fear and mistrust born out of events that dehumanized so many. A fear and mistrust born out of knowing that so many easily turn a blind eye to this dehumanization. A fear and mistrust of those who continue to harbor hatred and who are increasingly displaying it at an alarming rate. A fear and mistrust of those who proclaim we cannot teach about these acts and their demoralizing and lasting impacts. One must wonder why anyone would not want to learn from these injustices, face them and teach the next generation to do better.
Unfortunately, it seems there is a clear reason.
An overwhelming majority of the same individuals who insist we cannot teach about these injustices also insist that we are a Christian nation instead of an ethnically and religiously diverse one. This Christian nationalism does not want to learn to do better. In fact, Christian nationalists seek to go back to the past and widen the space for dehumanizing ethnic minorities, racial minorities, religious minorities, and the LGBTQI+ community. Contrary to the belief of such nationalists, one does not have to believe America is a Christian nation to be a patriotic American.
One's patriotism is not dependent upon faith, race, ancestral origin, sexual orientation, gender identity, or when or from where one's family originally came to America. Believing one's patriotism is dependent on such things is the most unAmerican belief imaginable.
It is ridiculous to expect that individuals from historically-marginalized communities would "get over" their fear and mistrust in an environment that seeks to deny their lived experiences, past and present, individually and communal. How can one learn from failures if they continue to pretend such failures and their resulting harm do not exist?
We are patriotic Americans who want the best future possible for our children and our country. That means a country where we recognize our failures, learn from them and commit to doing better. That means we understand that tolerance of minority communities is not enough (though it would be a good start). That means recognizing that our Americanness and patriotism are not dependent upon our faith, race, ancestral origin, sexual orientation, gender identity, or when or from where one's family originally came to America. Instead, our Americanness and patriotism depend on our desire to ensure that every American has the equal opportunity to live to their fullest potential without fear of being targeted for hatred and discrimination simply for not being straight, cis, white, and/or Christian.
