It’s Dino’s first Fourth of July and I find myself feeling oddly patriotic.

I’m not typically the type of person to go about espousing my love for my country, especially in this current atmosphere of cynicism. In fact, it has been years since I last truly celebrated the Fourth of July as more than a day to sleep in and get drunk with friends. But as I try to figure out how I want Dino’s first Fourth to proceed, I am flooded with warm memories of Independence Days past and a deep pride for my adopted country.

 I think of the celebrations in elementary and middle school, back before the cynicism of age hit: I loved the Fourth of July and the accompanying history. I’ve always been a sucker for good stories, and as a child, there was nothing more exciting and inspiring than the tale of the American Revolution. A small guerilla army rising against a powerful empire with nothing more than farmers armed with the vision of a better life (or just the age-old desire to avoid taxes… just kidding! Putting away cynicism now). And what’s more, the underdog actually succeeds in winning the war and codifying a social experiment and framework for thinking about the rights and roles of man and government. Independence Day and the requisite fireworks were reminders each year to reflect on those ideas that founded this nation.

As an immigrant, the tale of the American Revolution lies sharply in contrast to my parents’ tales of the Cultural Revolution and the June 4th Tienanmen Square tragedy. Whereas the latter reminds me of the fallibility of men, the viciousness of power, and the helplessness of the everyman; the former fills me with hope. Hope that even the most farfetched visions can come true, if we are willing to work for it. Hope that my fellow men and women can be aligned to a common vision of a better world in spite of the differences between us. It inspires me to put aside what’s easy and convenient and think rather about what is right. It is so easy in today’s world to put on blinders and walk down the well-trodden path in golden handcuffs, ignoring the struggles that exist for so many others in society. More simply put, it makes me want to do good.

Husband jokingly calls me brainwashed by my upbringing – a combination of immigrant naiveté and Midwestern schooling. He’s absolutely right. I rationally know that the tales I remember are not the full truth. History is created by the victor, themes are connected and strengthened across sometimes unrelated events, truths and intentions are glossed over in order to tell a cohesive story. But none of that changes the fact that stories are powerful in the emotions and desires that they inspire. And considering how easy it is to fall in line with the strong and powerful, how can one not be inspired by the fact that our country and our national identity is built on a story that gives equal voice to the minority and the weak?

Now, that’s not to say I don’t have huge disagreements with what’s going on today: There’s easy open access to weapons of war; too little economic value ascribed to the monumental task of raising the next generation; systemic racism that targets and murders people of color; the xenophobic rhetoric and actions of a certain presidential candidate; the growing gap between the uber-rich and the shrinking middle class; skewed corporate incentives that value short term profit over long-term growth and the well-being of employees; big business priorities and lobbyists overshadowing the needs of the everyman; an education system that despite best efforts still leaves behind the most vulnerable children; a healthcare system that bankrupts two million people annually; need I go on?

But while there will always be plenty to worry about, there is also be plenty to celebrate. I am proud of this country that we live in, a country which has overcome significant odds and rallied against the prevailing beliefs to become a place where immigrants still yearn to be; a country striving for “liberty and justice for all,” even if the execution isn’t perfect; a country where the granddaughter of Chinese factory workers can work her way up to attend a top university and set up a comfortable life for future generations.

I admit I have taken this for granted in the past years, but Dino’s existence makes me ever so aware of the wonderful qualities of this country. So this Fourth of July, we brush the dust off of our flags and celebrate America!