What do the faces of today’s American family look like to you? Do you picture tall, athletic blond parents and their 2.5 children? Perhaps they stand in front of a pretty house on a well-manicured lawn surrounded by a white picket fence? Inside the home there are McDonald’s bags on the kitchen counter, Coca-Colas in the refrigerator, and MTV playing in the background.

Jacqueline Easley and her family in their backyard.
 

Sure, that’s one type of American family. And I would be lying if I said I pictured that American family any differently as an 11-year-old girl living in the Philippines back in 1985. When my father came home one day from his job at the Asian Development Bank and announced we were moving to America, I was speechless … and then exhilarated.

 

The funny thing was that, at the time, McDonald’s, Coca-Cola, and MTV were the only parts of America that meant anything to me. And if these three symbols were any indication of what might be available in larger amounts, then how fabulous America must be!

 

My family made that move to America. And 20 years later, here I am—a little less naïve, a little more savvy to media advertising, now favoring sushi over Filet-o-Fish and a good bottle of red wine over Coca-Cola. I don’t even watch MTV anymore. But one thing hasn’t changed: I remain a diehard fan of the United States.

 

I became an American citizen just five years ago when I was pregnant with my first child. I had married my college sweetheart and after a brief stint in Chicago, we were settling down in Maryland.

 

Today, as I do my best to raise two bold, beautiful, and rebellious little girls, I thank God that I am able to do it in the United States. And I still remember that day of citizenship well—reciting the pledge of allegiance, holding my hand over my heart, feeling both my baby kick inside of me and this overwhelming pride that I was officially becoming an American.

 

Five years later, the possibilities for my daughters are endless. We are quite aware that they live a comfortable, privileged life. While this is in part due to the hard work of my husband and myself, and our parents before us, it is also certainly due to sheer luck. My husband and I have drawn a fortunate lot in life. We were both born to loving parents who stressed the importance of family bonds, education, hard work, and commitment to others. These same values are now the backbone of our own little family and they propel us into the future.

 

My husband and I try to raise our children in ways that help them understand how privileged they are. We teach our girls to appreciate the talents and resources they have and do their best to use them for the betterment of others. If our lives have good food and much entertainment, they are also filled with charity and community service, children’s books about different cultures and lifestyles, and endless motherly lectures on tolerance and diversity and compassion.

 

I applaud the fact that the American Dream is not a hokey, unattainable delusion; it is something that I see not just within my family but among friends, neighbors, and strangers who strive for their version of this dream on a daily basis. To me, the faces of the American family include those blond, athletic parents with their 2.5 kids on their well-manicured lawns I mentioned earlier, but there are many, many other kinds of faces in my own personal spectrum as well.

 

There are the faces of the families at my co-op preschool: the petite red-headed Irish girl with her African-American husband and gorgeous kids; the two women raising three children together; the single mother who holds two jobs and raises a family on her own. There are other diverse faces on my neighborhood cul-de-sac: the Iraqi man married to an  American woman with their two kids, our babysitter with her Italian father and Iranian mother, the Korean psychologist and his wife. Diversity is alive and rampant—at least in my life.

 

I cannot help but remember that initial act of rebellion over two hundred years ago that cemented the independent spirit of this future “land of immigrants.” Under the umbrella of that independent spirit, millions of immigrants came to this country seeking shelter from intolerance, prejudice, and persecution—craving freedom and longing for the right to live authentic lives that were truly their own.

 

Sometimes I cringe when I think about the tragic, terrible parts of America’s fledgling history. But name me any country, culture, religion, or individual that does not have bad parts along with the good. And of course there are things about this country that make me angry or embarrassed or disillusioned at times. Yet this is true of so many of the good things in life—marriage, parenthood, careers, relatives, friendships.

 

In the end, what saddens me about America is nothing compared to what amazes me about it: how much this young country has accomplished in so little time; how it champions democracy and human rights around the world; how it has attained economic superpower status; how it continues to dazzle with “bigger, better, brighter” ideas even as it doles out money to help those in need overseas.

 

I do question certain superficial values often associated with America and do my best to downplay these with my daughters, but I cherish even more the greater values of independence and diversity and freedom of expression that are alive and well in this country. And you can bet these take center stage as my husband and I navigate the complicated road of American parenthood.

 

Americans celebrate the individual, and as a result, our country is filled with some truly unique, bizarre, singularly talented, overly opinionated, exceptionally driven, multi-faceted people. My daughters, with their own distinct personalities, are various parts girly-girls, tomboy athletes, bookworms, budding artists, and compassionate citizens of the world. Of course I celebrate all these sides—and the ones not yet discovered—as best I can.

 

Americans also revere the act of self-exploration—discovering oneself, peeling back the layers to find your true essence, trying anything and everything at least once. Some may find this self-exploration a little indulgent. But when I see my five-year-old daughter coloring outside the lines, I do not try to correct her. Instead I feel a sense of pride bubbling up inside that she’s unwilling to conform or follow the rules … just yet. I admire her decision to reject borders in favor of something a little more messy, bohemian, and potentially progressive.

 

OK, it’s just a coloring book, but my point is that when Americans strive for the best, it’s not just because we are competitive but because we are constantly rebelling, pushing boundaries, taking risks. And we do this because we are encouraged to do this by virtue of the land in which we live and all that it stands for.

 

We all have the freedom to be shy or extroverted, brainy or ditzy, stylish or schlumpy, old-fashioned or avant-garde. We can worry about what people think, conform, and fit in if we want to. Or we can care less about who’s watching, stand up and shout from the rooftops, make waves and push buttons, threaten the status quo. I look forward to seeing what my daughters choose to do. I may cringe at some of the things they take on in the spirit of self-expression. But for now, I’ll let them color outside the lines—better yet, I’ll cheer them on for it.

(Author:JACQUELINE MORAIS EASLEY)