The concept of American identity is at the forefront of policy development yet it remains largely undefined. The United States has always been a multicultural nation, and as a result we all experience “Americanness” differently. So how do we explain our common characteristics? How do we keep our individuality while defending our place within this nation’s restricted view of itself? After reading two works centered around personal development and communal identities, the word “American” remains somewhat obscure. But through the analysis of these authors’ perspectives rises the need for a fluid label and its importance in civic life.
In Hunger of Memory, Richard Rodriguez explores the role that education, socioeconomic class, and language played in his development from the son of Mexican immigrants to becoming a middle-class American. That self-description highlights his separation from his origins. He often remarks how his introduction into public society was due to him learning and adopting English as his main language. He shares that as a child he was pushed to learn English, but once he did, he was then judged for not speaking Spanish fluently. He felt rejected by his family members and consequently, by the heritage that had once promised safety from the unknown. This feeling is shared amongst many Americans that grow up in a non-English-speaking home. We associate our maternal languages with a sense of comfort. Instinctively, we feel like we’re distancing ourselves from this comfort when we adjust to an English-speaking world. However, Rodriguez later states that “intimacy is not created by a particular language; it is created by intimates” (Rodriguez 32). This realization is crucial when analyzing the American identity. There is intimacy in speaking a familiar language, but that feeling is created only when the other person recognizes you as an intimate. He wasn’t pushed away purely because he wasn’t fluent. Inadvertently, his family was no longer treating him like a member of their community by targeting his lack of Spanish. Any language can create a sense of belonging. It characterizes a multicultural America as closely bonded, not necessarily by languages, rather by the desire to be connected.
Rodriguez expands on this by arguing against programs like bilingual education, as he explains that to be successful in a public world, one necessarily needs to make sacrifices (Rodriguez 35). He insists that no language can be the sole connection between people and much less can prevent the eventual change that occurs as you assimilate. As a Mexican-American woman, I understand his frustration with whomever denies that assimilation affects your relationship with others, and especially with yourself. But assimilation isn’t necessarily the only way in which one “becomes” American. Change is natural, regardless of where we are. Yet you don’t need to leave behind every part of yourself and adopt something new. If there is no one language that can connect us, then there is no one word that can accurately describe us. The definition of American must be as fluid and malleable as the people it represents.
Rodriguez’s distinction between “public” and “private” identities shows his internal conflict as he navigates the slow cultural division that forms once he sees himself as an American boy. His focus on language expands on this as he shares that “in some American cities one can cast a ballot printed in several languages. Such a document implies that a person can exercise that most public of rights –the right to vote– while still keeping apart, unassimilated from public life” (Rodriguez 35). Rodriguez often talks about how his educational and career opportunities increased once he accepted his public identity as an American, rather than a Mexican. In a way, he judges his family for retreating into a private identity whenever they wanted to show that they’re still a separate community. He is adamantly against any pretense of being both public and private, seeing this choice between either label as a necessary part of life. However, he often categorizes much more complex identities into these two classes. The reality is that a public process like voting must be connected to the private identity in order to be accessible to all citizens, regardless of their linguistic background. If someone is consciously choosing to involve themselves in a community, they’re no longer unassimilated from it. The right to a private identity is defended through public processes that must be accommodating.
Richard Rodriguez describes his experience thus: “I write of one life only. My own… Here is the life of a middle-class man” (Rodriguez 6). He constantly reminds his readers that he can’t be an example of the common Hispanic-American man. Not only because his relationship with his heritage is unconventional, but because no single person can represent a community. His autobiographical essays give us an insight into his definition of American identity, and consequently reveal the nature of a collective label. While some of his views retain a restricted nature, his lived experiences highlight the importance of expanding our definition of “American” to capture the nuances of an increasingly diverse society.
The most common factor that ties together those under an American identity is a sense of isolation. There is no common language, culture, race, or background. It is a multicultural identity. Its definition constantly shifts to accommodate new citizens. Assimilation is only a product of a restricted view of American identity. To be American is to be an individual, to have your own sense of private identity. Yet you remain tied to those that both seek refuge and strive to change the country that connects you.
In Between the World and Me, Ta-Nehisi Coates shares a poignant work directed to his son in which he describes his experience as a Black man in America. His biggest warning is to not fall for “the Dream” when acknowledging the uniqueness of our communities. His advice provides a much-needed guidance for all Americans, as he explores his identity with a sense of realism.
Coates describes his youth as a black boy in Baltimore and the efforts that his family made to keep him grounded. They encouraged him to challenge the intellectual status quo, but kept him aware of the nature of this country and its idealistic promises. He shares that “for so long I have wanted to escape into the Dream… But this has never been an option because the Dream rests on our backs, the bedding made from our bodies” (Coates 11). He builds on this idea of the American Dream, assuring his son that it exists beyond America. There are many systems built to uphold the Dream and from the start of your education, you’re encouraged to believe in it. Complacency is often the safest yet most dangerous choice. It’s important to recognize the limitations that some have when directly opposing an oppressive system. It’s equally important to acknowledge that all have the responsibility to support societal improvement.
His experience with education was notably different to Rodriguez’s. He realized from a young age that education often promoted passiveness. He explains that “I came to see the streets and the schools as arms of the same beast… I began to see these two arms in relation– those who failed in the schools justified their destruction in the streets” (Coates 33). More than just a tool for social advancement, Coates recognized that its nuances could make it a cover-up. Students were set up for failure from the beginning. Their eventual failures would be used as justification for the mistreatment they suffered. His family promoted a different kind of education: one that questioned instead of agreed. This led him to Howard University, where he found a new sense of community and began his search for his own Dream. This journey was largely based on research, but his conversations with others led him to understand something crucial: “It began to strike me that the point of my education was a kind of discomfort, was the process that would not award me my own especial Dream but would break all the dreams… And would leave me only with humanity in all its terribleness” (Coates 52). He wouldn’t find a long-lost purpose tied to his identity, he wouldn’t find the perfect life that America promised. There was no country nor label that was exempt from harming him.
He later grapples with the fact that he isn’t exempt from harming others either. He reflects on intersectionality, sharing that “I am black, and have been plundered and have lost my body. But perhaps I too have the capacity for plunder, maybe I would take another human’s body to confirm myself in a community” (Coates 60). As Americans, we share a common past. There are many tragedies in our history, caused by hate and ignorance. Coates admits that despite this, he also has the capacity to affect others. Often, we assert our place in a community by “othering” someone else. Under a common fluid label, the best thing we can do for ourselves is treat others as intimates.
Coates’ reflections and advice assert the fact that nothing is clearly defined. Education isn’t only a positive tool. Someone hated can also hate. The Dream isn’t the goal. Like Rodriguez, he admits that his experience will never be the same as anyone else’s. His life as a Black American man is distinct from his son’s. Yet there is a connection between generations, cultures, and beliefs. He inspires a personal journey to find our own connections, in hopes that we’ll also give up on the Dream and live for a reality.
“American identity” is complex and often dependent on the person analyzing it. Both Coates and Rodriguez acknowledge the difficulties of being American and not recognized as such. They both share moments that highlight how educational and political systems aren’t built to welcome the diversity that forms our society. For this to change, we all need to reflect on how we see ourselves and others, and accept that our perspectives may be leaving someone out. We’re tied to each other through languages, culture, history, and sometimes, through nothing at all. But when we interact with each other, we directly influence each others’ lives. Under an American identity, we all have the responsibility to recognize each other for who we choose to be.
Works Cited
Coates, Ta-Nehisi. Between the World and Me. Penguin Random House LLC, 2015.
Rodriguez, Richard. Hunger of Memory. Bantam Dell, 2004.