During our trip to Spain, where internet access and American news were scarce, my media withdrawal was inconveniently timed with the Vice Presidential debate. “How do you think Biden did?” I’d anxiously ask Mr. P. His reassurance was always the same: Sarah Palin couldn’t possibly outmaneuver Joe Biden verbally. What he didn’t fully grasp, however, was that pre-election debates aren’t showcases of substance—they’re performances of character. I imagined Biden carefully corralling his righteous anger to avoid looking like a condescending chauvinist. Meanwhile, I pictured Palin gleefully doling out her charismatic, twang-laden soundbites to the collective delight—or horror—of the nation.
Lately, though, the public perception of Palin seems to have polarized further. On one end, there’s a faction so repulsed by her they can’t even laugh at Saturday Night Live parodies. On the other, you have ardent fans who genuinely believe she’s a modern-day reincarnation of Queen Esther.
Palin’s latest eyebrow-raiser came during a speech in North Carolina, where she praised the “hard-working, very patriotic, um, very, um, pro-America areas of this great nation.” Naturally, she later “clarified” that her comments were misunderstood, as if suggesting some parts of the country are anti-America was a benign misstep. But you know what? She might have stumbled onto something.
If being “pro-America” means unwavering support for whatever America does—its policies, its actions, its messy, bulldozing tendencies—then, yeah, neither I nor most of New England would qualify as pro-America.
But I’m not anti-America either. I genuinely love this country—its diversity, its energy, its ideals. I often find myself defending it against the constant critiques of a certain Frenchman in my life. “Why are American cars so big? Why is your healthcare system such a disaster? Why are kids only in school six hours a day? Why does it cost more to take the train to Philadelphia than to fly? Why is this ‘kiddie-sized’ ice cream bowl the size of my fist? Why do you need assault weapons? And why, for the love of God, does Viagra dominate your football commercials?” On most of these topics—and countless other cultural, political, and logistical grievances—I try to muster a defense, even though, frankly, America often feels indefensible.
So where does that leave me? Not pro-America, not anti-America. There has to be a label for people like me who love to hate and hate to love this country. Contramerica? Disamerica? Misamerica? Paramerica? Hypo-America? Malamerica? (Or have I wandered too far into linguistic elitism for a nation that thrives on stark pro-versus-anti binaries?)
