What Does It Still Mean to Be American?

I live in Chevy Chase, Maryland, which is both a “town” and an “unincorporated census-designated place (CDP)? in Montgomery County. And, no, it’s not named after the famous comedian. It’s a small suburban community of about 3,000 people—mostly middle class and well-educated types—that borders the Chevy Chase neighborhood of Washington, D.C.

 

Chevy Chase has very little history and no tourist attractions. But I like the place and am friendly with some of my neighbors in the area, and I will probably feel a certain sense of nostalgia for it if I relocate to another part of the country.

 

Yet I would never say that “I am proud to be a Chevy Chaser” as far as my personal and collective identity is concerned. Come to think about it, I probably wouldn’t even identify myself as a Marylander, although I may feel a certain sense of collective pride when I learn that an Oscar winner was born and raised here.

 

The problem is that many of today’s pro-immigration advocates expect us to feel about the United States in the same way that I feel about Chevy Chase or Maryland.

 

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