Gratitude, Identity, and Choosing to Belong

My First Fourth of July as an American Citizen

This is my first Fourth of July as an American citizen — and for me, it’s a big deal.

I wasn’t born here. I wasn’t handed this identity at birth. I chose it. I went through the process. I stood, raised my hand, and pledged my allegiance — not just to a flag, but to the complicated, imperfect idea of what America strives to be. And that choice means something to me.

But I also know this:
The flag I now call mine has a history stitched with pain — colonization, slavery, erasure, war. I can’t claim the American story without recognizing the parts of it that still hurt, especially for Black, Indigenous, and historically marginalized communities whose ancestry has been stolen or diminished.

So this post is not a dismissal of that pain. It’s a reflection on how I — as someone born in the Philippines, shaped by a shared colonial past — am choosing to live now.

We Can’t Go Back

Anti-colonial language has its place — it helps us understand where we come from. But I sometimes wonder if we stop there. If we’re not careful, we can become so focused on what was taken from us that we miss the power we hold now.

We are so mixed—culturally, ethnically, politically — that even our DNA doesn’t know where to place us. And honestly, I don’t think that’s something to fear.

Instead of trying to reclaim something that can no longer exist in the same way, I believe we can honor the roots, face the truth, and still choose where we plant ourselves now.

What Living Abroad Taught Me

My worldview shifted when I lived in the Middle East for almost 20 years. Dubai was unlike anything I had ever known — a place where people from all over the world lived side by side, each bringing their own language, customs, and beliefs. And yet, despite the differences, there was order. There was respect.

We followed the rules — not out of fear, but because we understood that shared structure helps diverse people live together in peace. I learned that it’s possible to honor someone else’s traditions without losing your own.

Living in Dubai taught me that you don’t have to agree with everything to live with respect. That lesson stayed with me — and it’s part of why I now take my role as an American citizen so seriously.

I’m Filipino. I’m Also American.

My lineage is Filipino. My childhood, my first language, my memories — all Filipino. But my future, my kids’ future, the rights I enjoy, and the responsibilities I’ve chosen? They’re American.

And I take that seriously.
Not blindly. Not naively.
But with respect and with hope.

Because while history can’t be undone, the present is still ours to shape.

What I Celebrate

I know not everyone sees the flag the same way. I know the history feels different depending on where you stand.

But for those of us who chose to be here – who took the long road, filled out the forms, stood in line, and raised our hand — this moment means something.

It’s okay to hold both pride and pain. It’s okay to question, to critique, to see things differently — that’s actually one of the things that makes this country what it is.

The freedom to express ourselves is protected in the Constitution — and I’m grateful for that.
We don’t have to agree to live respectfully alongside one another. In fact, our ability to disagree peacefully is a sign that we are not living under authoritarian rule.

But freedom isn’t without limits.
We still have to take responsibility for how we use our voice — and how we treat others. I will always support the right to speak up — but I also believe in doing so with care, without personal attacks or violence, and with respect for the laws that help hold our society together. Just because we don’t see eye to eye doesn’t mean we get to demean one another.
Respect goes both ways.

Freedom isn’t fragile — but it’s not invincible either. It only works when we protect it for one another. We get to choose how we belong.

I chose this.