Personal Essay: To Be American To Me

What Does It Mean To Be An American? So I think that to be an american is that you have the rights to say I pledge of allegiance to the flag of the united states of america and so on. Also to be an american you can pick the job you really want, what shift to work, and the most important thing of all you can get an education. To be an american there is a lot of duties to do.

What does it mean to be an American? In my eyes to be an American means to have privileges, rights, and freedom. America isn't perfect, but it is one of the only countries that have rights given to people of different diversities and gender. America does not have tremendous poverty. Instead we have choices given to us by the people who fought and died for the American people. Without George Washington and the other patriots who planted the first seed in the ground and help plant the American nation we live in now who knows what America would be like now.

What it means to be American? Everybody you ask this question to will have a completely different response. Some responses might have similarities but none will be exactly the same. In the beginning of the year my response was “To be an American means having a rich history, having opportunities to better ourselves, and having freedoms.” Unfortunately not everyone has had the same opportunities or freedoms. Native Americans, who are indigenous, dealt with having their freedoms taken away, less opportunities even though they had rich history in this land before it was taken away from them. Look at what Zitkala-Sa endured. Not only that, but African Americans have fought long and hard for freedom and equality as well. W.E.B. Du Bois stood for

An American is someone who doesn't rely on others for their individual happiness. Someone with the freedom to independently make decisions towards becoming a better person without conforming to society's standards/sentiments. Americans have equal rights no matter where they come from. “Of every hue and caste I am, of every rank and religion... I resist anything better than my own diversity,” (Whitman) Walt Whitman is saying that no matter the color of your skin, your rank/wealth in society, or your religion, you are just as equal as everybody else. We are all so different and diverse yet so equal. Although we are equal, we cannot rely on one another for our own happiness. “To believe your own thought, to believe that what is true for you in

With all the controversy in what it means to be American at this point in history, coming to a consensus on the meaning of the term is crucial. The meaning of being an American can often be tied to one’s emotional connection to the United States of America. If this attachment is taken away from the definition of the word, the most authentic and traditional interpretation of what it means to be an American is revealed. To be an American means to be a citizen of the United States and to align yourself with the ideals of America.

To me being American means you have freedoms. We have the amendments that protect us, our freedoms and rights as citizens of the United States of America .The first amendment protects our freedom of religion, speech and the press. Being American means, the right to protest. Be perceived of your human rights arising out of a number of recognized human rights. While no human rights instrument or national constitution grants the absolute right to protest, such a right to protest may be a display of the right to freedom of assembly, the right to freedom of association, and the right to freedom of speech. Being an American to me means I have rights that no one can take away from

Being an American is a privilege and a responsibility. Americans have several freedoms that many other countries do not allow their citizens. These are rights that should be thought of as privileges, and people should be thankful for these rights. To be an American means to have love and pride in our country and to support those around you.

In my opinion, being an American means so much more than just living in the United States. Being an American means that you are free, able to create opportunities, able to vote for what you believe in, able to bring about change to benefit your community, etcetera. Being an American gives you the rights to life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness, but it also creates opportunities for injustices. While this country is not perfect, I believe that being an American is a privilege that many other people are not able to enjoy. Often times people take this for granted and unfortunately, this causes disrespect to others and to our nation. Above all, I believe that being an American is about respect.

Being American means you are free, you have rights and freedoms that most people don’t and you are able to be as unique as you want. As someone who values being different and having choices this is very important to me. We are lucky to be able to say we are American’s and that we have these rights, because a lot of countries don’t give their citizens this kind of freedom.

What do I value as an American? What is America to me? I sit and I reread the same the sentences over and over again. I’m not sure how to approach my feelings of conflict. I know America is one of the greatest countries, but it can also be a place where equality and respect is not as valued as it should be. I see America differently than any other person can see it. I have my own thoughts, feelings, and experiences that shape my perception of the country I live in.

It was a gleaming Monday morning and I was cheerfully walking to the lunch tables where my friends were, until I was suddenly halted by a somewhat familiar person.

My parents instilled me with my Korean identity from a young age, and attending a Korean Church just reinforced everything. There was no problem and my parents ensured me it was all for my benefit, that I would thank them for later. This is America and I grew up in the city, so when I left for school the identity enforced upon me wasn't the real "me." I consider myself lucky because I was never ostracized for being different, but yet felt weird that I could never totally relate with the friends I had around me. I had to learn how to balance my Korean identity with my American one, regulating and situationally repressing as needed. It wasn’t much of a problem.

Years before I found a home in my mother’s swollen belly, my identity had already been conceived by both violence and beauty—two emotions which made love on the war-torn pages of immigrant stories collected on my parents’ spines. As a child, the contents of these stories transported me back to our native Afghanistan, where Soviet bombs converted my mother and father from citizens to refugees—strangers on their own soil. Running my fingers through the pages, I felt the blisters on my father’s hands and verses from the Quran on my mother’s lips as they pieced together the fragments of our home and restored a new life for me and my siblings in the United States. Years later in what was the beginning of a lifelong struggle with my identity, I closed

I have traveled from Australia to Europe and seen many sights of which are indescribable and unknown in the United States but they haven’t been able to capture the unique beauty of my backyard. It started as a blank canvas that my dad could shape any way he pleased. A palm tree, a pool, a small garden, and a “Man Cave”, as my mom called the covered patio, that had a TV and a fireplace. After its creation had taken place, my dad and I grew fond of the relaxing setting and its pure elements.

It was a gleaming Monday morning and I was cheerfully walking to the lunch tables where my friends were, until I was suddenly halted by a somewhat familiar person.