Proud to be an American
The United States of America is a beautiful country in many ways, and while we sing about its beauty from sea to shining sea, it could be said that its beauty truly lies in the people who make up this great nation. Whether natural-born or naturalized citizens, we all have our own stories of what being an American means to us. This month, a few Americans share their stories.
Ryan Sherring
Saint Louis, Missouri
I was born in South Africa in 1980 in a coastal city called Durban. I loved growing up in South Africa, and in a lot of ways it reminds me of the Midwest. I did all my schooling in South Africa and later spent some time working in the United Kingdom. I met my wife in Cape Town, South Africa, where she was working and I was studying. She was born and raised in the United States and eventually wanted to be closer to her family, which is why we ultimately moved to Missouri. Shortly after we left South Africa in 2014, my parents and siblings did too—my parents moving back to England and my siblings immigrating to Australia.
Before marrying my wife and traveling to the US to visit family, the only interaction I had with the American culture was through other Americans I had met on my own travels and, of course, TV when I was a kid—but I quickly learned that lacks any credibility. My wife was born and raised in Missouri, so we had come over to see family a number of times and had travelled around a little too, so I had seen a fair amount of the US before we decided to move here. I felt like I had a reasonably good idea of what to expect, though things did change when we officially moved. I’m often asked if I miss South Africa, and in truth the answer is no, but I do miss the ocean. If we were to plan a dream vacation, I would head for the coast, but we’ve also done some mountain vacations and really enjoyed skiing.
When we moved to Missouri, we saw a gap in a certain industry in our local market and decided to pursue it. The experience of starting our own business has kind of been like those old “American Dream” movies where people start their lives in the US and strive to create their own American dream. I definitely feel like that was the case with us. We started a new business, created jobs in our local market, and in the process built friendships and found community. I believe America is full of opportunity for all, provided you go out and get it. It is not a place for you to sit and expect it all to come to you.
The US has a clearly defined immigration process. Provided you do it legally, there is a very clear process and so there shouldn’t be any issues. There is a ton of paperwork, which can be quite complicated at times, but we were able to do everything ourselves without the use of an immigration lawyer. The US is pretty good about wanting to keep families together, and because my wife was born and raised here and we were married for a long time before we decided to move, it was a straightforward process for us. I know it’s not like that for everyone and I’m sure there are a ton of stories.
When I think about my citizenship story, several things come to mind. First, US citizenship is a privilege not a right. I think of it as adoption. You can’t just move into someone’s house without them inviting you in. Immigration is the same way. I’m not saying it’s easy and that everyone who wants to live in the US can, and that is unfortunate for those people. Second, I do know that I am blessed to be adopted by the US, and I am truly grateful that I was given the opportunity to be a part of such a great country and to be able to live with my family. Last, I am grateful that my children will have every opportunity growing up here and that they won’t have to move away and be split up like my family did.
Moving to the US was not easy. I gave up everything, from friends and family to school ties and my professional network to come to a strange place and start from scratch. We had to divide our wealth by thirteen and earn minimum wage starting out. I had no friends, no blood-family, and no network. Most people won’t understand that it was both a sacrifice and a blessing. It took a long time for my wife and I to get on our feet and to feel like we belong. I still get that unwelcome feeling sometimes, when people ask me where I’m from. I’m from here.
Rebecca Wallace
Columbia, Missouri
For me, my story is an adoption story. I was born in South Korea, adopted by a white American couple when I was a baby, and grew up in St. Louis, Missouri, in the suburb of Webster Groves. I don’t know much about the process my parents had to go through in order to obtain my citizenship—they obtained my citizenship for me as I was adopted when I was an infant. But my understanding is that there was a lot of paperwork along with social work follow-ups. My parents are the “American Dream” in that they both came from impoverished backgrounds but did not allow that to define their paths in life. Having been blessed in this way, I was given quite a head start in life in that I did not lack for anything: loving parents, necessities, and desires.
My parents could not keep from me the fact that I was adopted seeing as I am South Korean–American and they are White. They were keenly aware of the racial difference in our family and did their best to share that with me as I was growing up. I can remember my mom reading books to me about why I looked different from them and many other people in the US, taking me to Korean language class, (trying to) cook Korean food, and sharing (what they knew) about Korean culture with me. It’s strange, as American as I am, there are times when I am deeply aware that when people think about America, someone who looks like me might not be what they picture.
When I was a kid, other children would point out that I didn’t look like them (at times in the not-so-nice kind of way) or ask me if I knew Karate (which happens to be Japanese) or how to cook egg rolls (which are pretty darn American). I remember learning about the Constitution when I was nine, and not that I ever wanted to be the President of the United States, but learning that I would forever be unable to because of my citizenship was quite a blow to my 4th grade me. Wasn’t I just plain, ol’ American? Not quite. But I can’t say that my citizenship (outside of my POTUS situation) has ever given me any kind of trouble. As I got older and had a better grip on my own identity, I came to appreciate that here, in the US, we have the opportunity to live with people who are not like us and the freedom to be curious about those differences. I would like to see the place I’m from, and in fact I plan on going to South Korea and Japan next summer. I like to travel in general and have never been to East Asia, so I’m excited to visit a place I’ve never been. To be honest, I’m most excited about the food!
Living in a country that prides itself in giving a voice to the voiceless, embracing differences, and working hard is a gift. I hope that when people think of the United States they see a land of opportunity—not just financial opportunity, but relational opportunity too. When I think about what I would want people to know about the US, or what I hope is true, I think about the fact that this nation was built by people who were rejected by their own country and did the best they could with what they had at the time. We have much in our past to be ashamed of—taking land, taking lives, owning others. But I hope that this is the kind of place where we can learn from that and be better. We have the freedom to not be perfect here and we have the freedom to disagree. I also think about the fact that kindness is free and freedom is not.
Having had the opportunity to grow up in the US, I have been afforded many things most people will never experience. I am free here. Free to have an opinion, free to vote, free to disagree, free to be curious, and so much more. I know that freedom came and comes at a great cost, and I am thankful for those who have given their lives to provide that to me and my fellow countrymen. This is a great place to live and a great place to call home. Granted, I’m sure there are many other people from other parts of the world that would say the same thing about their homeland.
Varner Shippy
Holden, Missouri
I can’t very well tell my story without sharing portions of my dad’s story.
My dad, Varner Newton Shippy, was born in 1916 in Johnson County, Missouri. In 1942, he married my mom right before he was shipped overseas to serve in the Army during World War II. He was in the China-Burma-India Theater and rarely talked about his time in the military, but he did share a few things, including very little about the atrocities of war (like why he was advised to not drink from the rivers), a little about his time in a hospital, the fact that he wasn’t able to come home when his mother died, and that he would send money back home for Mom to pay for the farm, which they bought right before he left. The money, which included an extra $26 Dad earned selling his cigarette rations, eventually paid for 120 acres of farmland in the rural area of Holden, Missouri, on which Dad worked his entire life. He ultimately ended up purchasing another two hundred acres, and when he was asked why he didn’t buy more land, he said, “I’ve got all I need. I don’t go hungry, and I don’t need to be rich.”
I was born in 1950 and remember life on the farm as busy and a lot of fun with two older brothers, one younger brother, and a lot of cousins who all lived within a mile and a half of us. We lived in a two-bedroom house with an open upstairs that wasn’t air-conditioned or heated, so in the summers we slept outside and in the winters we fought for the warmest spot and the best covers. When I was nine, my mom died suddenly of an ectopic pregnancy, and I remember exactly where I was when my uncle came and told us what happened and where I was when Dad got home from the hospital. But Dad never blamed anyone for my mom’s death, and he never complained about his lot. He was a very strong, very caring man. He loved people and would do anything for anybody. He was the guy that if someone needed money he would give it to him and wouldn’t expect anything in return. He taught me how to work hard and have fun too. I like to think that what truly makes America beautiful is the people, people like my dad who are hard-working and share what they have.
Dad never encouraged me to go into the military, but he didn’t discourage me either. I attended college for two years before deciding to join the Army in September 1970 and served through April 1972. After four months at Fort Leonard Wood, I was sent to South Carolina to be shipped out to Vietnam, which changed to South Korea. The day I was supposed to ship out, they sent five of us to Europe. I was stationed in Germany and served as a personnel specialist in an artillery unit, and one of my duties was to break communications codes.
Before the military, I’d never been on a train or a plane, so I valued the opportunity to get to know the people I served with from all over the United States and experience different cultures. During one of my leaves, I flew into West Berlin because I wanted to see the Berlin Wall. I wasn’t allowed to go into East Berlin because of my classification, but I remember standing at Checkpoint Charlie and looking over the wall to see East Berlin and the effects of socialism and communism. No grass, bombed out buildings, and every once in a while I’d see someone pop out of a hole in the ground to ensure no one was trying to escape into West Berlin. It was incredibly sad to see what it looked like to live with no freedom whatsoever.
I can say that I learned the most during my time in the military. I realized why my grandfather, my father, and uncles served their country, and I came to learn that some of the greatest strengths of the United States are its Constitution and Bill of Rights that our founding fathers put together. When I think about what is worth celebrating, protecting, and fighting for, I think about liberty and freedom—you just can’t overemphasize freedom and liberty.
2 Comments
Sherry Elliott
Thank you. Happy Love reading this.
Barbara Shippy
Thank you for your comment, Sherry! I’m so glad you enjoyed reading their stories.