Why Some Americans Feel Ashamed of Their Country

A friend of mine recently posed an interesting question: Why do so many Americans feel embarrassed about their homeland?

This topic came up during a typical Independence Day discussion centered around patriotism, the symbols of our country, and whether America is deserving of celebration. It reminded me of what the late Robert Woodson used to express about the early days of America.

Woodson recognized a significant contradiction at the nation’s core: a country that allowed slavery while asserting that all individuals are created equal. He also highlighted the limitations placed on women’s rights among other flaws that were present when the nation was founded.

However, rather than dwell on these shortcomings, Woodson chose to focus on how we respond to them. He likened America to a child born with defects, emphasizing that caring parents don’t abandon such children. Instead, they adapt, nurture, and love them.

This concept of stewardship has lingered with me, especially from my own experiences in caregiving. A wise friend once told me during a tough time, “Your wife has a savior. You are not her savior.”

For years, I thought it was my duty to fix everything. If only I studied hard, worked relentlessly, and made sacrifices, the outcomes would align with my desires. But I ultimately came to a painful realization: I couldn’t control every outcome. My duty encompassed a different kind of management.

This insight transformed my life and perspective. I used to think that life would truly begin after the next surgery, recovery, crisis, or milestone. Like many caregivers, I believed if I could just make it through this challenge, I could finally start living.

Eventually, I understood that this was not a dress rehearsal; it was my actual life.

When I ceased waiting to just get by and instead embraced living, I learned to swim rather than merely tread water.

But the issue remains. My responsibilities have shifted.

We often convince ourselves that happiness is a destination, something that will come after certain events. If this election were different… if that complaint were resolved… only then could we genuinely live.

Stewardship prompts us to ask a more profound question: Instead of questioning why we weren’t granted something better, what do we do with what we’ve been given?

I’ve witnessed the distinction between cultures that encourage stewardship and those that demotivate it. Years ago, while helping to set up a prosthetic limb initiative in West Africa, I collaborated with local engineers. One day, I simply asked a technician, “What do you think?” His bewildered expression suggested he was never expected to make a decision.

At its best, America routinely asks that very question. What do you think? What will you build? What responsibilities will you embrace? That expectation is central to the American experience.

The nation’s foundational principles allowed for reform because they articulated truths that many founders didn’t fully realize. These ideals later empowered Americans to challenge slavery and promote civil rights.

America’s narrative, though imperfect, comes with management responsibilities.

Of course, management isn’t the only method to deal with flaws. Some choose to learn from them, while others take advantage of them.

Every family caring for someone with a disability encounters individuals who seem more invested in the diagnosis than the person. Nations face similar challenges. The inherent contradictions in America have served both as a rallying cry for deeper loyalty and as tools for those seeking power through ongoing dissatisfaction.

Woodson understood this dichotomy. One path cultivates stewardship, while the other breeds resentment.

I appreciate this country not for its perfection, but for its continual call to each generation to strive for ideals greater than themselves.

When I see my grandchildren, I wish for them to inherit a nation that cherishes freedom, embraces responsibility, rewards merit, and promotes the idea that life is shaped more by our actions than by complaints.

What if we chose not to wait for the ideal election, apology, reckoning, or outcome before we engage with our country sincerely? Just imagine the gratitude, creativity, service, and responsibility that could emerge.

Parents of children with disabilities know this. Caregivers understand this well. Love doesn’t demand perfection; it requires a sense of stewardship.

That seems like a good approach to nurturing a family. And I think it’s a solid way to care for a nation.