Patriotism That Looks Like a Neighbor
I am a southern boy in the ways that matter. I say yes sir and yes ma’am. I hold the door. I wave at people I do not know. I was raised to believe that how you treat folks is not a personality trait. It is your character. You do not have to agree with somebody to respect them. You do not have to understand someone’s life to act like they are still a human being. Long before I could have told you a single thing about party platforms, I knew what it meant to be decent. That is where my patriotism started. Not in a speech. Not in a post. It started in the daily, quiet decision to act right.
The Patriotism I Learned Before I Learned Politics
In the home I came from, love of country looked like taking care of what you were given. It meant you worked. You paid your bills. You tried to leave things a little better than you found them. You did not talk big if you could not back it up. The flag was not treated like a prop because nothing serious should be. You respected veterans, but you also respected teachers, mechanics, nurses, and the guy sweeping the floor. You respected effort. You respected honesty. You respected your neighbor’s dignity.
What the Military Did to My Definition of Love of Country
Then I served, and the word patriotism got heavier. In the military you learn fast that love of country is not a feeling you post about. It is an obligation you live up to. You swear an oath. You learn standards. You learn that trust is built in small moments, and it takes time. You learn competence as a form of respect. You learn that the mission does not care about your ego.
If you pay attention, there is another important lesson. America is not one type of person. I served with people from every background imaginable, with different accents, different politics, different faiths, and different stories. When it mattered, we were on the same team because the job required it. We are not united by sameness. We are united by a promise that we belong to each other.
When Pride Turns Into Performance
Somewhere along the way, much of our public patriotism stopped looking like gratitude and started looking like theater. It got loud. It got fragile. It got defensive. Patriotism turned into finger pointing and accusation of others who did not shout the loudest. That is not strength. That is insecurity wearing a flag.
Real pride is steady. It can handle the truth. It does not panic when somebody points out a problem. Performance needs constant validation. It needs an audience. It needs an enemy. It needs to keep the temperature high so nobody notices how shallow it is.
The problem with performative patriotism is that it asks almost nothing of you besides volume. It does not require you to be honest. It does not require you to be disciplined. It does not require you to be kind. It asks you to shout that you love your country. Patriotism is hard. You have to love your country enough to fix its flaws and to know your neighbors belong here too.
A Better Measure
Here is my test for patriotism, and it is simple enough to use before you finish your coffee. Does your love of country make you more responsible, or just angry. Does it make you tell the truth, or repeat whatever helps your side. Does it make you treat people better, or does it give you permission to treat others worse. Do you show up for your community when nobody is watching. Can you do the boring things that keep a community or workplace going.
Vote. Serve. Learn. Pay attention. Help somebody. Admit when you are wrong. Keep your word.
Love your country like you love a family member who is not perfect. With loyalty, yes. With honesty, yes. With effort, every day. If patriotism does not look like a neighbor, I do not trust it.
