I have a hard time participating in jingoism, even when it is meant to honor people I respect, sometimes even members of my own family.
Memorial Day is the day Americans set aside to remember the men and women who made the ultimate sacrifice while serving in the United States armed forces. It also happens to be the unofficial start of summer, a day of barbecues, pools, and gatherings with friends and family.
But every year, as the speeches and social media posts roll in, I find myself increasingly uncomfortable with the rhetoric surrounding the holiday. Much of it feels less like remembrance and more like pseudo-patriotic flag-waving.
Let’s be honest about something.
The United States has not fought a war primarily over the freedom of its own citizens since either the War of 1812 or the Civil War, depending on how one chooses to frame it. Nearly every major conflict since then has been tied to geopolitical strategy, alliances, or the protection of American economic and imperial interests abroad.
From the Cold War through the late twentieth century, many U.S. military interventions were justified under the Truman Doctrine, a policy aimed at stopping the spread of communism. But communism was never an immediate threat to the civil liberties of most Americans. What it threatened was the global political and economic order dominated by the United States and its Western allies.
And while American leaders were promoting narratives about defending freedom abroad, millions of Black Americans were still fighting for the most basic civil rights at home.
Black soldiers served in every American war. They fought and died under the banner of freedom while living in a country that often denied them full citizenship, equal protection under the law, and even basic dignity.
In many cases, they returned home from battle only to be treated as second-class citizens. Their sacrifices were praised in speeches, but their humanity was still questioned in everyday life.
In that sense, the people who fought most directly for my freedom were not generals or politicians. They were activists, organizers, and everyday citizens who challenged systems of racial injustice. Many of these heroes were harassed, imprisoned, exiled, or assassinated for their efforts.
They fought not on foreign battlefields but in American streets, courtrooms, churches, and communities.
That history makes it difficult for me to fully embrace the triumphant, chest-pounding patriotism that often dominates the Memorial Day holiday.
This doesn’t mean I don’t respect the individuals who served. Many of them acted out of genuine belief, duty, or economic necessity. Some of them were family members. Their sacrifices were real.
But respect for those individuals doesn’t require me to accept the mythology that surrounds American military power and American motivation.
So while others participate in the patriotic pageantry and blast Toby Keith songs about American might, I’ll probably spend the day doing something much quieter.
I’ll remember the complicated history behind the holiday.
Then I’ll enjoy the food, spend time with family, and maybe take a dip in the pool.