Okay so basically anyone who knows me knows I really am not the most patriotic person out there. It’s not like I hate America or anything, I just have never really seen myself belonging to the American “club” that is the intense nationalism that many Americans shout to the world. I’ve just always had this uneasy feeling about believing that America is the greatest country in the world when the world is so wide and I only just so happen to be American because I was born here. (Side note: Call me a hippy, but I strongly believe that the greatest country in the world might have a little more respect for the world by not being one of the biggest contributors to the issue of climate change, as well as excessive waste from single-use plastics…) I have a healthy amount of respect for America but I’m not a nationalist because I think the nationalist mindset promotes borders more than bridges. I simply consider myself a citizen of the world first and a citizen of America second.

Now to the parts of America I like…

Living abroad has opened my eyes to how different America is compared to European countries (in my case, specifically, Italy). I may have a harder time seeing eye to eye with Americans but I’ve noticed that there is one very American thing in my blood that I will always be grateful for. That thing is my fearless independence that I know is only grown on American soil. American people are quite unique in their strong attitudes toward providing for ourselves and paving our own way. I believe that the “American Dream” is only a myth, which isn’t to say it’s irrelevant. I think the myth of the “American Dream” stands as our nation’s reminder of our roots in freedom, independence and self sufficiency. In the same way that Greek myths can tell us so much about what it meant to be Greek thousands of years ago. I like to joke a lot about how I don’t think I was meant to be American and maybe my ancestor got on the Mayflower by accident but the truth is I don’t believe that one bit. There was something incredibly powerful in my ancestors hearts for them to be able to pack up their whole lives to cross an entire ocean in hopes of finding a better life. People who I’ve talked to about this crazy adventure I am on right now always get this look in their eyes and tell me about how brave I am. Yet I really don’t believe I am brave at all. I think I simply inherited a tiny speak of that same powerful blood that adequately equipped my first generation American family members to make an even greater leap than the one I am making now.

I may not feel “American” in the same way that people back home do, but I will forever be thankful for the influence growing up in America had on me. For it is my Americana heart that pushed me to believe it would be possible to move to a foreign country alone, without speaking the language and without knowing anyone. From the outside it seems a mistake, yet it has been the most beautiful mistake of my life.