The national atmosphere has shifted. I hear a lot of talk proclaiming that real Americans are white, male and Christian. Coupled with hate crimes aimed at Asians, Blacks, Latinos, women and other minorities, intolerance and hatred are raising their ugly head.
I have seen a lot of change in my 84 years. Born in New Orleans I witnessed segregated schools, bathrooms, fountains, seating on public transportation. My father resigned his diplomatic post in the Nationalist Chinese government so we could grow up as Americans with the opportunity to freely forge our own lives. Moving to Chicago at the age of 11, I later found out my father had to engage the help of the local Presbyterian minister to buy our house. It was an all-white neighborhood. I saw the great white flight as our neighborhood changed when middle class African Americans purchased homes. My father was called in the middle of the night by realtors asking him to sell the house. He finally said he would for $150,000. The calls stopped. My father said, “No one is going to chase us out of our home.”
I witnessed my father working very hard to build low-income and affordable housing in Chicago’s Chinatown, especially elevating living conditions for the elderly with his senior apartments. I witnessed my mother being one of the first women financial advisors working for Investors Diversified Services, the precursor to Ameriprise.
I witnessed the change in civil rights and women’s rights, especially with the passage of Roe v. Wade. I witnessed Title IX where women could compete in sports. I also witnessed the push back against women in leadership positions. My PE classes in 1970 were boys and girls separately. I purposefully made sure they got the same lesson plan. When classes were combined after Title IX I made sure both boys and girls had leadership opportunities, not just boys, and that the teams were fair. At the end of my teaching career, I began to see acceptance, equity as normalcy when girls and boys, women and men worked together. We’re going in the right direction but still have a way to go where you are respected for your abilities, not what you look like.
Fast forward to today, I’m seeing the continuation of open discrimination based on gender, race, and religion. Being an American to me means acceptance — our right to be here, our right to thrive, our right to just be. Freedom to make decisions over our own body, to choose whom we want to marry, to contribute our talents to community, state, and country to make our nation a better place for all. Freedom to vote and choose our leaders, to peacefully assemble and express our opinions in the written and spoken word — all guaranteed by our Constitution. Opportunity for self-determination. Respect for who we are no matter our differences. Lately, labels have become the norm — wise or unwise. Am I a Chinese-American? Or just an American? Can I be an American and still celebrate my ethnicity without bringing suspicion of my loyalty? America is strengthened by the talents and contributions of people from around the world. I have grandchildren who are Chinese, English and German. This is what makes America. There is no other nation in the world like ours. I am proud to be part of this great experiment and call myself an American.
What does it mean to you to be an American?
Jo Loi is a 5th generation American who lives in Lakeville.
Madeline Hartwell, left, visits Tom Hall’s vendor tent along the Harlem Valley Rail Trail during The Voice of Art’s Fine Art Festival in Millerton.Photo by Nathan Miller
