I am an American. Yes, I am Black, but that doesn’t define my story alone. I have suffered on American soil—born into a system that wasn’t designed to nurture or uplift me. I sat in an American government foster care system, subjected to its evils, entangled in its corruption. But that doesn’t just make me a statistic. It makes me an American in a way that only those who’ve faced the harshest realities can understand.

I am not American simply because I live here. I am American because I feel this country in every fiber of my being. I live it, breathe it, sweat it, endure it. I carry the scars of this land’s struggles and the spirit of its triumphs. I am the trauma of injustices faced, and I am the joy that comes with resilience. I am the beauty of a people who keep rising, keep fighting, keep believing. I am the patience to endure and the rage to demand better. I am the wanting, the needing, the striving for a country that lives up to its promise.

I am a true American because I want better for this country—not just for myself, but for all Americans. For all those who fought, sacrificed, and died believing that a better future was possible. Because being American isn’t about your race or political affiliation. It’s about knowing and feeling this land—the place you were born, the place you’ve suffered, the place you’ve risen from. It’s about surviving and thriving, about finding hope in every moment, even when it feels like hope is out of reach.

America is a cycle of crisis and victory, and only a true American can see the beauty in that. We see the challenges, but we know that every fall brings the chance to rise again. That’s what makes us resilient. That’s what makes us proud. That’s what makes us American. I stand in that truth, embracing the good and the bad, ready for the next victory, because that’s what it means to belong to this land.