Hierarchy of Nationalist Feelings

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Joan-of-Arc
I am a nationalist, with a little “n”

I am not an Internationalist, with a capital “I”
And my blood burns with pride
For having won the lottery of human incarnation
By being born of Polish blood on American soil
I wonder what possible alternatives are there?
If I could not be Polish by blood
Or American by place of birth
Because the fates, or God, or random calculation
Made it impossible?

… in that case…
I would like to have been born a Jew
Or an Armenian, and I waffle between those choices
That would be honor, and pride, that would be good
But if they were unavailable
I’d take being English, Hungarian or French, North of course
Or maybe Korean, South of course…
One can never go wrong with real class and style
Or with a heart that beats with love and duty
In that order, really, why are you so surprised?
Or I could be Mexican
Yes, I wouldn’t mind being Mexican
Really, I wouldn’t mind it at all

No offense intended to all the other nations out there
I either know too little of your history
Or I know way too much
Or I simply do not like you at all
Not out of petty prejudice
But because we clash, aesthetically, religiously or ideologically
Those are valid reasons to dislike you
So if all of the above choices were not allowed to me
For whatever reason: by destiny or pre-birth choice
I’d pick being a Rwandan Tutsi or an Ethiopian
Really, the only options left available
…to anyone with any sense
And who knows, maybe in my next life
God willing, I will have the honor
….to be a Tutsi, a woman of course
Or to not be reborn at all.

December 14, 2012

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