7-Opinion

Opinion
Wednesday, January 27, 2021 — 9
The Michigan Daily — michigandaily.com

ANYA SINGH | CONTACT CARTOONIST AT ANYAS@UMICH.EDU

MRINALINI IYER | COLUMNIST

Patriotism is overrated

D

uring a three-hour drive 
through 
the 
disastrous 

Bombay 
highways, 

my mom relayed the story of her 
citizenship ceremony. My parents 
became American citizens in 2005, 
but it came at a cost: They had to 
renounce their Indian citizenship. As 
“The Star-Spangled Banner” played 
in the courthouse, my mom grew 
misty-eyed as an integral aspect of 
her identity was replaced by that of 
a post-9/11 country where she felt 
uncomfortable wearing her cultural 
clothing in public. My sister and I 
exchanged glances of confusion as my 
mom continued by explaining that the 
Indian national anthem brought on a 
wave of patriotism in her, even today. 
Neither of us could imagine feeling 
so tied to our home country, nor 
the feeling of loss when unclasping 
yourself from your roots. 

I primarily think of myself as 

American. I was born less than 
20 minutes from the University of 
Michigan campus and spent my 
childhood in small towns across 
Michigan. This is my home, and it 
always will be. 

Nevertheless, the feeling of 

intense patriotism that my mom 
feels for the place she was born 
has never resonated with me. At 
football games, I stand up out 
of respect for others and fear of 
retribution, not necessarily for the 
flag or because I feel the loyalty that 
sweeps the crowds. This country 
was not made for or by myself or 
my ancestors.

It’s possible that this lack of 

patriotism is generational. Only 
32% of millennials believe that the 
United States is the greatest country 
in the world — a 16% drop from 
Generation X. Thus, it stands to 
reason that Generation Z would be 
even less patriotic than every previous 
generation. However, in America, 
Gen Z’s lack of patriotism may be 
due to its greater racial and ethnic 
diversity, as well as the higher number 
of immigrant families. 

Or, perhaps the growing criticism 

of the U.S.’s policies and institutions 
has contributed to a decreased sense of 
national pride. Nevertheless, it seems 
counterproductive to assimilation that 
a first-generation American like myself 
would feel such a deep disconnect with 
this increasingly diverse, melting pot of 
the world. 

Many would consider a lack of 

patriotism to be a fault of myself, my 
parents or even my education. Patriots 
are seen as the backbone of the 
country, the lifeblood of government 
and the basis for national pride. 
Naturally, patriotic sentiment has 
long been intertwined with wanting 
a country to succeed. Since the Cold 
War, patriotism has been considered 
necessary to be a true American. It 
was a tool to distinguish between 
those who belong in America and 
those who were threats. 

However, this crude, outdated idea 

of patriotism fails to recognize that it 
is no longer a dichotomy, but rather a 
spectrum of ideas about how people 
interact with their country and with 

their fellow citizens. Patriotism no 
longer has any bearing on who does 
or doesn’t belong in America and 
shouldn’t be used as any measure of 
worth for an American. 

Over the past few years, members 

of my generation have had their eyes 
opened to the misdeeds of the U.S. It 
has become increasingly apparent 
that the financial freedom and 
“family values” for which America 
was once revered by its people were 
actually tools of oppression, designed 
to only uplift certain groups of people 
— namely wealthy white people. 

As people have come to these 

realizations, there have been calls 
for change across the country. But 
political parties on both sides of the 
aisle have co-opted patriotism as the 
way to restore unity to the country, 
which has only led to increased 
polarization as Republicans and 
Democrats alike believe that their 
definition of patriotism is the correct 
one. This tool of division is only 
doing what it was intended to do, and 
intense feelings of patriotism have not 
helped in restoring any sense of unity. 

Without 
this 
overwhelming 

allegiance clouding our collective 
vision, we would be able to look at 
this country through a more objective 
lens. Our love for this nation would 
be defined only by virtue of this 
being our home, the place where 
we have chosen to build our lives 
and not by some sense of American 
exceptionalism. Criticism of U.S. 
institutions and policies would be 
more poignant, and sensible foreign 
ideals might be able to permeate our 
unnecessarily thick skin. 

As a first-generation American, I 

am somewhere in the middle of the 
vast spectrum of patriotism. I see this 
country for what it is, but moreover, 
for what it can be. My parents came 
to this country for a better life, for 
education and for the promise of a 
bright future. 

And as an American, I am deeply 

invested in helping this country 
reach its full potential, regardless 
of my apparent lack of patriotic 
sentiment. I would not die for this 
country as it is now; I probably 
wouldn’t even mildly inconvenience 
myself for it. 

But I would die to make it better.

Mrinalini Iyer can be reached at 

iyermili@umich.edu.

LYDIA STORELLA | COLUMNIST

Democrats should avoid sweeping 

progressive policy changes

W

ith 
the 
victories 

of 
Democratic 

candidates 
Jon 

Ossoff and Raphael Warnock 
in the Georgia Senate runoff 
elections on Jan. 5, the Senate 
majority now belongs to the 
Democrats. Since the Democrats 
already 
control 
the 
House 

of 
Representatives 
and 
the 

presidency, the Democrats now 
have a unified government for 
the first time since 2011. 

Naturally, 
Democrats 
are 

excited about this prospect — 
especially having a Senate with 
a Democratic majority, which 
makes legislating far easier. 
They can bring bills to the Senate 
floor that otherwise wouldn’t 
have received a vote now that 
Sen. Mitch McConnell, R-Ky., is 
no longer the Senate Majority 
Leader, and they also should have 
the votes to pass such legislation.

However, 
it’s 
easy 
for 

Democrats to dream of the 
policy that could be rather 
than the policy that should be. 
This election was a rejection of 
Donald Trump, not a rejection of 
conservatism or the traditional 
values of the Republican Party. 
By no means was it a vote for 
sweeping progressive policies. 

Although 
the 
Democrats 

maintained their majority in the 
House of Representatives, they 
lost seats, making this majority 
much slimmer than in the last 
session of Congress. The fact 
that Republicans gained seats in 
the House but lost the presidency 
is important because the House 
is the body that more closely 
represents individual voters. 

Voters have not abandoned 

conservatism or the Republican 
Party; 
they 
abandoned 

Trumpism. Individualism, limited 
government and republicanism 
are still valued by many American 
voters, 
especially 
those 
who 

split their ticket, voting for Joe 
Biden for president and for the 
Republican candidate for their 
congressional representative.

Similarly, in the Senate, the 

Democrats lost seats that they 
were expected to win, including 
seats occupied by Sen. Susan 
Collins, R-Maine, and Sen. Thom 
Tillis, R-N.C., who both won their 
reelection campaigns. While the 
Democrats did successfully flip 
four seats, gaining a net three 
seats in the Senate, all of the 
flipped seats came from senators 
who were closely aligned with 
Trump: Martha McSally, Cory 
Gardner, Kelly Loeffler and 
David 
Perdue 
all 
embraced 

Trump 
in 
their 
campaigns, 

and all lost to their Democratic 
challengers. In the Senate, ties 
to Trump in moderate or even 
center-right 
states 
doomed 

campaigns. 

The Senate, like the House, 

also has a small margin of 
dominance, 
the 
smallest 

possible: a 50-50 split with 
Vice President Kamala Harris 
as the tiebreaker. Should the 
Republicans vote unanimously, a 
single “no” from the Democratic 
side would result in a “no” vote 
for that bill in the Senate. Sen. 
Joe 
Manchin 
III, 
D-W.Va., 

would likely vote against any 
progressive legislation, as he 
comes from a deep red state and 
has voted with Republicans on 
consequential matters before. 

Progressive 
legislation 

would harm House Democrats 
who represent swing districts. 
Because House representatives 
are up for election every two 
years, they face an electorate that 
remembers their specific votes, 
especially votes on controversial 
bills and issues. 

If 
Democrats 
embrace 

far-left policies now, it will 
be at their peril come 2022. 
Representatives from moderate 
districts will almost certainly 
face strong challenges from more 
conservative, that is, Republican, 
candidates. Additionally, party 
members don’t always vote with 
their party — already this year, 
five Democrats voted against 

reelecting 
U.S. 
Rep. 
Nancy 

Pelosi, D-Calif., as Speaker of the 
House. 

This is not to say that 

Democratic control of Congress 
isn’t a major win for the party. 
With McConnell out as Senate 
Majority Leader, the Democrats 
will be able to bring legislation to 
the floor for a vote that a Senate 
with McConnell would never 
have brought up. 

The most relevant example 

of this is the stimulus package, 
as McConnell refused to allow 
the Senate to vote on the 
Caring for Americans with 
Supplemental 
Help 
Act 
to 

give a $2,000 stimulus check 
to Americans, even though 
the bill was passed by the 
House. With a Democrat as 
the Majority Leader, the CASH 
Act will receive a vote in the 
Senate and will likely pass. 
Other actions a Democratic-
controlled Senate can take are 
appointing liberal judges to 
the courts, passing legislation 
to fight climate change and 
furthering former President 
Barack Obama’s health care 
law. 

The elections of Ossoff and 

Warnock are, without question, 
excellent for the Democrats. A 
Democrat-controlled 
House, 

Senate and presidency allow 
Biden to set the policy agenda 
and allow Congress to execute it. 
But just because the Democrats 
have the power to execute 
sweeping legislative change does 
not mean they should use it. 

Progressives 
in 
Congress 

will likely endorse major policy 
proposals such as Medicare 
for All and a Green New Deal, 
but these policies cannot be 
considered if Democrats want 
to maintain their congressional 
majorities in 2022 and keep a 
Democrat in the White House 
in 2024.

Design by Yassmine El-Rewini

Lydia Storella can be reached at 

storella@umich.edu. 

BRITTANY BOWMAN

Managing Editor

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Ann Arbor, MI 48109

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Editor in Chief

ELIZABETH COOK 
AND JOEL WEINER

Editorial Page Editors

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JULIA MALONEY | COLUMNIST

How a pair of sneakers represents American identity

B

eing 
the 
first 
to 
do 

something is a feat; it makes 
the accomplishment that 

much greater. For Vice President 
Kamala Harris, being a “first” can be 
considered one of her specialties. 

She is the first South Asian 

American senator in U.S. history, the 
first African American and South 
Asian American vice president in 
U.S. history and the first female vice 
president in U.S. history. Another 
topic in the recent discourse, 
however, is that she is the first 
politician to wear Chuck Taylors in 
the West Wing, boldly reinvigorating 
traditional political dress. 

To Harris, a sense of purpose 

and the means to accomplish it is 
epitomized by her Converse All Stars. 
In October 2020, Harris famously 
showcased her embellished white 
high-tops with badges pinned to the 
sides of her trainers. The messages 
included “Black Joy,” “Stop Hate” 
and “Love 2020,” nodding to the 
feelings of those in attendance to 
her Florida rally and the millions 
back home suffering from the loss 
of American lives as a result of the 
COVID-19 pandemic, as well as acts 
of racial injustice. 

Throughout 
her 
grueling 

campaign, Harris stood wearing 
her self-titled “power pearls” and 
sneakers, confident that her political 
initiatives would soon take full stride. 
Yet the critics fixating on her clothing 
choices rather than policy proposals, 
assailing her style as distracting and 
trivial, make her Chuck Taylors all 
the more meaningful. Talking about 
her shoe choice is neither sexist nor 
distracting; it is instead a recognition 
of the sexism and judgment she 
pledges to overcome.

Female politicians’ wardrobes have 

been a frequent topic of discussion 
and scrutiny, and are one thing that 
their male counterparts usually avoid 
press coverage about. While First 
Lady Jackie Kennedy was idolized 
for her iconic hats and colored sets, 
Michelle 
Obama 
was 
criticized 

for her inexpensive gowns and 
exposed arms. Whether praising or 
condemning, there is an inescapable 
gaze and assessment of women in 
politics’ physical appearance.

Glass ceilings and the chains of 

fashion expectations are there for 
us to smash. Small acts of rebellion 
recognized by our nation’s biggest 
figures turn the initial fracture 

into a successful breakage of these 
confinements. Harris’s shoes do 
matter, and what they represent 
is why she was elected as another 
“first.” 

They are not the traditional high 

heels common of a politician. They 
are not meant for presentation or 
special occasions. They are a new 
symbol. They are meant for action, 
productivity and doing. Although 
a pair of sneakers does not seem 
revolutionary at first glance, they are. 

The beauty of Chuck Taylors is 

that they evoke an authentic feel 
because they’re affordable sneakers 
etched in American history: a canvas 
sole with a rubber base, worn from 
the early 20th century until the 
modern-day. 
Converse 
sneakers 

were even exempt from the rubber 
rationing during World War II, as the 
American people viewed the iconic 
shoes as a central component to the 
American identity and protested 
against the ration. The growing 
influence of television and celebrity 
endorsements beginning in the 
1950s was responsible for creating 
new sneaker archetypes: the athlete, 
the celebrity and the rebel without a 
cause. 

Despite the famed sneaker’s shift in 

audience, its origin remains rooted in 
youth culture that has now moved to 
the mainstream. When speaking in an 
interview, Harris notes that “Chucks 
— whatever your background is, 
whatever language your grandmother 
spoke — you know, we all at some point 
or another had our Chucks.” Shedding 
light on American culture, Kamala 
Harris’s feet are firmly planted in our 
nation’s history. 

I myself own a pair of high-top 

Chuck Taylors and wear them 
frequently on campus. Prior to 
this year, I had not been aware of 
their history, nor that the shoes I 
had bought as a fashion statement 
would now be looked at as a part 
of a political revolution. Their 
significance is not limited to Election 

Day but instead applies to anyone 

seeking to be a “first” in their school, 
community or country. 

Adam Cohn, vice president of 

global brand design for Converse, 
shares, “The star chevron has 
been in use since the ’70s and we 
wanted to make it a major part of 
our identity — that part of the brief 
was clear: Let’s leverage an icon 
that’s part of our heritage that’s 

also representative of moving 
forward.” 

Moving forward is representative 

of all genders, races, beliefs and 
orientations, 
of 
which 
Kamala 

Harris is the exemplar. It is time to 
lace up.

Julia Maloney can be reached at 

jvmalo@umich.edu.

Design by Beatrice Miller

