I’m Not Proud to Be an American, and That’s the Point

The Weaponized Demand for Patriotism

There’s a line that gets thrown at people like me all the time: “If you’re not proud to be an American, then why don’t you leave?”

It’s not a question. It’s a threat veiled in red, white, and blue and it’s become the go-to defense mechanism for anyone who’s unwilling to wrestle with the hard truths of what America has become. In MAGA circles, loving your country has become synonymous with never criticizing it. Their vision of patriotism isn’t about values or ethics, it’s about complete obedience and trust.

They’ve turned pride into a loyalty test. If you dare to speak out against injustice, you’re labeled ungrateful or unAmerican. If you call out corruption, you’re accused of hating America or a terrorist. It’s a toxic mindset that says your worth as a citizen depends on how loudly you cheer for the people in power.

I don't believe in blind loyalty, I believe in truth, accountability and responsibility. Truth is often uncomfortable. Accountability is usually painful. Right now, the truth is that the people in charge are not leading this country toward justice, equality, or compassion. They’re dragging it deeper into fear, division, and greed.

So no—I’m not proud to be an American in 2025, if that makes me a traitor in their eyes, so be it.

Pride Isn’t Automatic. And It Shouldn’t Be.

There’s this strange idea in MAGA circles that simply being born here is supposed to make you proud of it. They act as though patriotism is something you inherit, not something you choose. That just because you’re standing on this soil, you should feel grateful no matter what that soil is soaked in.

Pride is not supposed to be automatic. Not in your country. Not in your job. Not even in your family. You shouldn’t feel proud just because something is yours. You feel proud because of what it represents, what it does, how it behaves in the world.

When I was younger, I felt proud to be an American. I believed that my country stood for freedom, for fairness, for something bigger than flags and fireworks. But as I got older, and especially in these last few years, I’ve watched that vision erode.

What does “being an American” really mean right now?

In 2025, under this administration, it means cheering for billion-dollar tax cuts while people ration insulin. It means calling journalists enemies of the people. It means banning books, silencing educators, targeting immigrants, erasing queer and trans lives and rewriting history to protect the fragile feelings of the powerful.

That’s nothing to be proud of. That’s authoritarianism wrapped in an American flag and marketed as freedom.

What Would Make Me Proud?

I’m not against the idea of being proud of this country. I want to be proud of the country I live in and what we are doing. I want to look at America and feel hope. I want to believe that we’re striving toward justice, not just pretending to.

So what would it take?

I’d be proud of an America that sees people first, not their race, their gender, their religion, their pronouns, or their bank accounts.

I’d be proud of an America that doesn’t hide behind God to justify cruelty, or behind capitalism to excuse exploitation. An America that feeds its children before funding weapons contracts. One that builds housing, not cages. One that understands that healthcare is a right, not a reward. A country that believes that working a full time job means being able to survive. I’d be proud of an America where elections are sacred, where facts still matter, and where the truth isn’t seen as a partisan threat. I’d be proud of an America that doesn’t need to scream about being the greatest, because its actions would speak for themselves.

That America exists in pieces. I see it in some communities, in some movements, in some people. But it is not the America currently represented by the men in power, the policies being passed, or the vision being sold.

When I Did Feel Proud?

In all honesty, I haven’t felt a lot of pride in this country lately, but one moment stands out: the “No Kings” rallies.

While Trump celebrated his birthday with a military parade that cost millions of dollars, regular people, real Americans, took to the streets. They protested not just the corruption of this administration, but the very idea that one man could place himself above the nation. That he could treat our democracy like a stage built just for him. What made it even more powerful was that it wasn’t just one city, one demographic, one ideology. It was people of all backgrounds standing together to say: This isn’t who we are. This isn’t what we want to be.

We have been living in a period full of cynicism and fear and in that moment it felt like defiance with a backbone. It felt like a reminder that we are still here. That there are people who haven’t given up. Who still believe in the promise of this country, even if they no longer recognize it in practice. That was the first time in a long while that I felt something like national pride, not in the government, but in the resistance to it.

A Moment of Reflection: Band of Brothers and the America We’ve Become

The other night, I watched a documentary featuring the real men who inspired HBO’s Band of Brothers. These weren’t actors or politicians—they were veterans who had risked everything to fight against a rising tide of fascism in Europe. They spoke plainly, without self-congratulation, about what it meant to confront evil. They didn’t romanticize war. They didn’t talk about being heroes. They talked about doing what needed to be done to stop something monstrous from spreading. The only thing I could think, watching them speak, was: How far we’ve fallen since then.

These were men who stood up against authoritarianism, propaganda, and the idea that any one man or one nation should dominate through fear. Yet today, in the very country they came home to protect, we’re being told to respect and idolize leaders who embody those same dangerous values. Leaders who attack the press. Who punish dissent. Who make enemies out of minorities. Who speak about power the way fascists once did—openly and without shame.

We’ve let their sacrifice be rewritten into a flag-waving myth instead of honoring what they actually fought for: democracy, equality, freedom from tyranny. Watching that documentary, I didn’t feel pride. I felt grief. I felt anger and most of all, I felt a kind of moral disorientation. The values those men held, the ones they bled for, are now treated as radical or even un-American.

It’s not just that we’ve forgotten history. It’s that we’re actively betraying it.

My Pride Isn’t Free

The people in power today want pride to be a weapon. They want it to be a performance. They want us to salute while they loot.

Pride isn’t a blank check.

It’s not something I hand over because I’m afraid not to. It’s not something I give away because someone told me to stand up during a song. It’s something that must be earned.

Right now, America, especially this administration hasn’t earned it. We can talk about the Constitution, but we ignore the parts about equal protection under the law. We can talk about freedom, but we’re banning drag shows and criminalizing abortion. We can talk about greatness, but we’ve got people working three jobs and still sleeping in their cars.

I love the idea of America. The dream of it. The possibility of it.

Loving your country doesn’t mean pretending it’s perfect. It means being honest when it’s not. It means refusing to lie for the comfort of others. It means asking more, demanding better, and never settling for less.

Final Thought: I Stay Because I Believe in What We Could Be

People say, “If you hate this country so much, why don’t you leave?” I don’t hate this country. I hate what some people are trying to turn it into. I stay because I believe in the people still fighting for something better. I stay because I believe America is not finished. I stay because I believe that pride is still possible, if we’re willing to earn it.

Not through shows of force, or blind allegiance, or bloated parades.

But through dignity.

Through justice.

Through compassion.

Through truth.

I want to be proud , but this country doesn’t get my pride just for existing. It has to earn it. I hope, someday soon, it will again.