When I was in class my junior year, a classmate decided to tell me to “go back to my country.” Before I had a chance to respond, a friend sitting next to me said “Shut up. He may not be as American as the rest of us, but he is still American.”

After class, I asked her to explain what she meant, since I was, in fact, born in Passaic, N.J. To her, since her family had come to New Jersey back when it was a Dutch colony she was more American than me, a citizen whose parents came to this country in 1976. We had a lively discussion about what it means to be American, American values and patriotism.

We liked the same sports teams, practiced the same religion, liked the same foods, were in the marching band together, liked the same music, and both considered ourselves “patriotic.” At the end of

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