Renata Soto
Fourth of July – 2015
Whitland Neighborhood Celebration, Nashville, TN

What does it mean to be an American? 

The Fourth of July brings Americans together in a special way. It’s day to remember, affirm and celebrate a common history that binds us together, that defines us.

And I say us not without acknowledging the full weight of that pronoun.
… not without conceding the license I take to claim that I, too, belong here, that I am of this place … even when I didn’t arrive to this country until I was 21 years old.

And that simple declaration —that I am part of you, Nashville, as much as Nashville is a part of me— is what to me defines the American experience … and what it means to be an American.

Let me explain.

When I came to the United States in 1993, my identity as a young Costa Rican woman with a dream of becoming a journalist to change the world through the power of the written word was intensely solidified.

The opportunity to go to Kenyon College in Ohio brought me to this country temporarily, but love kept me here indefinitely.

As I started a new, married life, I always thought it would be a transitory stay…that my husband (after learning Spanish) and I would, in a few years, find jobs and a way to move to Costa Rica, where I was meant to be, where I wanted to be, and the only place I could ever call home.

As the typical immigrant story goes, I began leaving in the hyphen: … a bi-national existence – living here, visiting there – both physically and spiritually
… a bi-cultural marriage raising two bi-lingual children.

As time went by, no matter how much I loved my job and friends, and how engaged I became in the civic life of my adopted community, I was still from there and just a long-term resident here.

To prove my case: 

While I became eligible to apply for US citizenship in 1997, my deeply rooted sense of home did not let me take that important step until 10 years later in 2007.

And this was my tipping point:

After 8 years in Nashville, my husband’s job took us to Knoxville. We moved. And I felt uprooted. I cried. A lot.

And it was then that I fully understood my deep connection and love for Nashville and its people. And for the first time I called a place –other than Costa Rica– home.

After three years in East Tennessee, I declared myself a Nashvillian and we made our way back.

No hyphens, this time.

Instead: a comforting feeling of fluidity between my two worlds … not in the sense of a “quaint” multi-ethnic utopia.

But more, an openness to fully claim and be all that I am:

That I am from here and there;
And that sometimes I don’t feel I belong to either place;
That I speak English during the day and dream in Spanish at night; That I cherish the homeland that gave me birth, and thought me to read and dance …

as much as I cherish the adopted country that welcomed me, embraced me and allowed me to re-imagine and define a new self.

That’s the American story: one of new beginnings, of new possibilities, of new frontiers.

Whether searching for freedom of religion or freedom from slavery or freedom from poverty, it is the story of a people searching, searching to become fully all who they are.

And as any human enterprise, America –the beautiful– is also imperfect and too many among us have yet to find and enjoy that promise.

For example…
… the 11 million immigrants who are integral members of our communities but are waiting to be recognized as such and no longer live an existence in the shadows as second-class citizens. … the young black men who walk to school, to work, to play in fear while their mothers and wives pray for a safe return home.

But this nation’s expansive laurels are not meant to be rested on. And like you, in the last few days, I have been filled with pride and immense hope that we are still striving and moving toward a more perfect union when the beacon of light and love overpowered darkness and hate in Charleston, and when the dignity and humanity of same sex-couples were upheld by our highest court in Washington.

As insurmountable the barriers and injustices we still have to take down appear, after last week’s events, today I end my remarks sharing with you my renewed understanding and commitment of what, to me, it means to be an American:

it’s a disposition, an attitude, a tenet, a duty to fight for and build a community where everyone belongs and everyone can become fully all who they are.

Muchas gracias.