reduce, reuse, recycle

I was watching Bill Moyers last night, and he closed his show with Keith Carradine’s new song, “Born Again American.”  I had also just finished reading “The End of White America?” in the latest Atlantic, and was ready to go off (more people of color in advertisements is “a kind of difference that doesn’t make a difference of any kind”–see Stuart Hall).  Instead, I decided to wait a moment and try to figure out just what it is about the pre-inaugural hoopla that’s getting on my nerves.  I also have to be careful, b/c you know, I’m not a US citizen.  I was born and raised in Canada; I’m a proud Canadian, but I also proudly think of myself as American.  I’ve lived here for nearly 15 years, I pay taxes, I love my community, and I feel like I’m engaged in US history, domestic issues, and policy debates.  But that doesn’t mean someone somewhere–even a close friend–won’t eventually turn to me and say, “You know, if you don’t like it here, you can always go back where you came from.”  When you’re an immigrant, you’re always waiting for those nativist remarks: “Well, you really couldn’t understand unless you were born here.”  There may be some truth to that, but *I* know just how unique and valuable the “outsider” perspective can be.  I remember years ago reading some of Alexis de Tocqueville’s commentary on democracy in the US, and I imagine he wasn’t always loved for making those astute observations.  But as a foreigner, he could see things that Americans couldn’t see about themselves.  We all have blind spots, and we all need others to hold up mirrors, even if they reveal what we’d rather not see.  That “Born Again American” song disturbs me, and the first half of the video suggests that people of color are only included to play back-up for the white, (blue-collar) American singers.  Then we cut to the obligatory black gospel choir, complete with kente cloth robes, and we close with a black minister singing in New Orleans.  What does it mean to be a “born again American”?  They’re asking people to take a pledge: stay involved & informed, make your voice heard–not just at election time; make a difference b/c you matter–you’re American, born again.  Unfortunately, this pledge and the lyrics of the song are pretty heavy on Christian rhetoric: “I’m a Born Again American, conceived in Liberty/ My Bible and the Bill of Rights, my creed’s equality.”  And just what does it mean to be born again (sorry, Grandma!)–it’s a Christian concept, right?  You release the past, the person you once were (corrupt, sinful, proud, etc.) and you surrender to a greater power that cleanses and purifies you so that you emerge “new” (pure, devoted, humble).  de Tocqueville once wrote, “The greatness of America lies not in being more enlightened than any other nation, but rather in her ability to repair her faults.”  And I’ve always believed that.  In fact, I think part of what it means to be American is to be in love with the idea of one’s own potential.  Even the poorest American dreams of being something else someday–rich, powerful, famous–and there’s a firm belief in the absence of limits: nothing should stop one’s meteoric rise to glory (hence the lack of regulation that tanked the economy).  Americans are dreamers, and that’s one reason why I feel like I belong here.  I love the stories that we tell one another, even if they’re more fascinating and contradictory than true.  And I suppose that’s what I see happening in these pre-inaugural days…lots of people invoking the old myths, the stories of equality & justice for all, the founding fathers, and a return to the original principles of the nation (but not separation of Church & State, apparently).  Never mind that Americans have fallen short of those ideals from day one–literally, as the Constitution and Bill of Rights were being written, they were fraudulent b/c they didn’t apply to all.  Certainly not to me, or my enslaved African American ancestors who ultimately bought their freedom and moved north to Ontario, Canada.  de Tocqueville also writes, “When the past no longer illuminates the future, the spirit walks in darkness.”  It is a new day, but I’m not convinced that Americans have truly learned from the past; so much of it is shrouded in shadow, yet most Americans are only too happy to leave it there, preferring the day-glow narratives of progress and redemption.  But what about atonement?  Penance?  Confession?  America can’t hope to transcend its bitter and often brutal past unless it confronts those atrocities and inequities and inconsistencies head on.

I’m a green kind of girl–I reduce, reuse, and recycle.  But just saying you’re “brand new” doesn’t make it so.  I want to see this country transformed, but I know there’s a lot of work involved, and the pragmatist in me isn’t ready to party.  Still, I’m an artist who believes in change–I think every artist has hope.  Otherwise, why create?