How many times must it be said: “dissent is patriotic.” Maybe saying isn’t enough. Maybe shouting it, over and over, is in order. American history is filled with examples of dissenters who have moved the country forward by helping it realize—in actuality, not abstraction—the ideals on which it was founded. Labor organizers, suffragists, Civil Rights protestors, LGBTQ organizers, anti-war activists. Many of these protesters were immigrants who saw in this country a place that could be transformed into something better, because the mechanisms for transformative change were in place. They had the tools to see it through: a democratic, though flawed, election process, a forward-thinking Constitution, and an active and stand-alone judiciary.
Nearly every single milestone right we’ve won has been the result of years of dissent and provocation, much of it on the streets of this very city. My heart swells when I pass a protest, even when it’s a message I vehemently disagree with. I’d say I’m happier to witness a protest I disagree with, because it furthers the idea that all can be heard here.
We are closer to what we were meant to be because we question, fight, and work for a better future. We openly criticize policies, politicians, and outdated laws. Want more proof that critique is utterly American? Our First Amendment protections are the strongest in the world. In essence, it is our duty to call out, without fear of retribution, what we believe is problematic.
As an immigrant from the Soviet Union, where dissent was verboten and my own great-grandfather was murdered for casually remarking about a life outside the U.S.S.R, I love this country because when it shines, I see the very best of humanity—openness, civility, and liberty. It’s the promise of America that makes it great. Whether it always lives up to that promise is a different story, but as we’ve been taught by our great leaders, progress isn’t linear. Our country’s history is an amalgamation of heroism and tragedy, of puzzling contradictions. As we were preparing to go to the moon, police officers, with tacit approval, were brutalizing peaceful Civil Rights protesters all over the South. As the United States was engaging in a battle to defeat fascism, Japanese-Americans were being held prisoner as possible traitors for simply sharing the same country of origin as America’s enemy. (No such internment took place for German-Americans, who hosted a thousands-strong pro-Nazi rally right in Madison Square Garden in 1939. Another example of how race has played an ugly role in how this country treats its immigrants.)
But our greatness is carved into our bones. The fact that, despite being seemingly unconcerned with the fact that his own words didn’t apply to enslaved black people or women, Thomas Jefferson was still able to construct one the most powerful statements ever written: “We hold these truths to be self-evident, that all men are created equal.” To me, the most moving part isn’t “all men are created equal”; it’s the first clause, that equality is a truth that doesn’t need explanation. This sentiment is not something anyone needs to prove. It just is, no questions—especially here, in the city of dissenters and immigrants.