Every day in Madrid, I see the American1 flag emblazoned on t-shirts and tote bags—often worn by non-Americans. It makes me wonder: "What does the U.S. flag mean to them?"
The word "American" carries many stereotypes. People imagine Spain as a family-friendly, sun-soaked nation that takes daily siestas and glasses of wine, and they think Americans are wealthy socialites, workaholics, and beer-guzzling gun enthusiasts, influenced by Hollywood imagery. These presumed truths get woven into our global fabric, creating narratives of relaxed, laid-back, and artistic (Spanish) or exuberant, glamorous, and violent (American) lives. While there's some truth to these stereotypes, they don't apply universally.
A Spanish family member who lived in Canada for decades was convinced that all Americans are rich. I told them the truth: while the average American salary is higher than Spain’s, so too is the cost of living. Many Americans struggle to make ends meet, live paycheck-to-paycheck, have little to no savings, and live in statistically-verified fear of experiencing deep debt or bankruptcy due to an unforeseen illness or accident. The “richest country in the world” ranks #69 out of 167 countries for overall health, and 12 percent of documented Americans live in poverty. None of this makes for good TV, so the world rarely sees it, but these realities highlight the economic and social struggles, especially among people of color and historically marginalized groups.
Hamilton's lyrics, "young, scrappy, and hungry," capture America's relentless drive for success and innovation. This award-winning musical reflects the virtues that propelled the U.S. to economic prominence and the flaws that challenge its progress. It broke boundaries by incorporating hip-hop into Broadway but avoided an opportunity to address racism directly.
We’re young. Just a few hundred years ago, the Americas were "The New World." I see this daily in Europe's architecture and attitude. Spain, like a grandparent, shakes its head at America's youthful immaturity.
We’re scrappy. Our chaotic and unrefined ways exude "ready-but-not-ready" vibes. Depending on the context, I either admire or roll my eyes at this trait.
We’re hungry. For better. For more. For healthier food. For more affordable food. For the next right thing. For financial security. For the pursuit of happiness.
Being young and hungry highlights America's historical can-do attitude. Our nation was founded on the principles of freedom and opportunity. This relentless pursuit of progress has led to groundbreaking innovations and the necessity to create something remarkable out of necessity and ambition. The dark side: it celebrates individuals without acknowledging their support system.
But scrappiness is our shortcoming in many ways. Our hunger for success translates into a "win at all costs" mentality, meaning we have far fewer societal safety nets than other developed nations. Our focus on individualism and self-reliance has fostered incredible achievements and led to disparities in healthcare, education, and social services. But our drive to be “the best” overshadows the value of supporting the most vulnerable among us, perpetuating and worsening our inequalities. The dark side: it denigrates individuals without acknowledging the absence of a support system.
I’m proud and embarrassed of my country. The United States is very good and very bad. We are friendly and open and close-minded and selfish. We are very intelligent and deeply stupid. We have big problems to fix, yet we think being anonymous armchair activists on social media is the best way to solve them, rather than actually having conversations with each other or an elected official. We don’t show up to vote because the candidates aren’t “perfect,” then clutch our pearl-studded iPhone cases in disbelief that a misogynist convicted felon could once again be elected to the highest office in the land.
When I see a U.S. flag outside of the country, here’s what I wish it represented—my "homework" list for America:
A nation that acknowledges and atones for its racist past and present.
A nation that gives women bodily autonomy.
A nation of voters who show up in record numbers in spite of corrupt electoral systems.
A nation that protects and cares for its people both legislatively and personally.
A nation that recognizes its domestic terrorism of gun violence and takes action to eliminate it.
When I see the U.S. flag abroad, I want it to symbolize that we've truly earned a reputation as the best version of the Hollywood archetype of cool kids at school—likable, admired for our integrity, and resolute against bullies. Perhaps then, on each 4th of July, I could celebrate Independence Day with genuine pride, knowing my country does more than flaunt its economic and military superpower status while actively neglecting its own people. I want the U.S. flag to stand as a symbol of an exemplary democratic society that treats its people and the world so well that everyone who wears it does so because they unequivocally understand and respect its earned reputation.
I’m aware that the word "American" doesn't fairly represent everyone from countries in the North, Central, and South American continents. However, in my experience, when people ask me: “Where are you from?" and I answer back with "United States," more often than not, they look at me with a confused face until I say "American.” For simplicity, that’s the term I use here.