I PLEDGE ALLEGIANCE

Colin Kaepernick, I’ll remind you because our news cycles move fast and our attention span is ever-shrinking or perhaps just stretched to the point of breaking, was a quarterback with the San Francisco 49ers who chose not to stand for the National Anthem, causing much outrage, thoughts for the children, and clutching of pearls.

And Kaepernick, of course, pissed me off. Not the protest, just that now, because of him, I know something about sports. I’d made it this far in life, and now suddenly I know a player’s name, team, and even his position. I don’t totally know what a quarterback does, but I know that Kaepernick is one. His protest I’m fine with. Why wouldn’t I be? He chose not to express patriotism that he did not feel. And seeing this man not feeling patriotic, what a strange response on the part of America; “Fake it!” That’s what we told him. “You’re not feeling love of country? Well, fake it. Stand there and act like you’re feeling good about this country, we don’t want to hear your complaints.”

I hope those of us telling him to fake it don’t have this attitude with our romantic partners, too. “What’s that? You didn’t cum? Well, fake it.” That isn’t fair. We shouldn’t ask someone to fake it for us. I mean, not all the time. Once in a while is okay, on your birthday for sure, but she or he deserves a real orgasm, and goddammit, America, so does Colin Kaepernick. Don’t ask him to stand up there, “Oh yes, America, you’re so good. Oh America, you’re the biggest country I’ve ever had.”

Of course, as a cisgendered, heterosexual, white male, I related to Kaepernick and his struggle. [Sarcasm.] I too once had to struggle with being asked to perform an act of patriotism that I did not agree with.

I had excitedly enrolled in band in junior high. Surprise! On the first day of class I took my seat along with a dozen or so other socially awkward kids on metal folding chairs in front of Mr. Haney. To my surprise, he asked us to rise for the Pledge of Allegiance.

This was Southern California in the eighties. I don’t know how it was elsewhere, but we hadn’t been made to say the pledge in class since first memorizing it in the early years of grade school, and I wasn’t real sure I wanted to pledge my allegiance. It wasn’t that I didn’t feel patriotic. I did. I didn’t stop feeling patriotic until November 2016. It was just that pledging your allegiance was a bit of a heavy commitment for a thirteen-year-old. “Whoa, America, slow down. I think I might just like you as a friend. I think we should see other countries first.” I stood up, respectfully, along with my fellow aspiring band geeks, but instead of placing my hand over my heart, I kept both of mine at my sides and my mouth shut. “I pledge allegiance to the flag of the United States of …”

“Stop! Stop!” Mr. Haney waved his hands. “One student is not saying it.” He didn’t single me out by name, but he may as well have, there was no mystery as to who was the troublemaker in this group. “Start again from the beginning.”

Some dirty looks were beamed my way as, with a chorus of sighs, the ritual started again. “I pledge allegiance, to the flag …” I continued to stand silently, hands at my side.

“Stop! Everyone sit down.”

All eyes were angrily on me as we again took our seats and Mr. Haney decided to give us a heartfelt talk. He explained that, like many men his age, he’d been to Germany. He wasn’t involved in the war, he just toured there some years later with a jazz trio. With a sincere and gentle tone he told us of his visit to a café along the Berlin Wall. For my younger readers, there used to be a wall in Germany separating it into two countries, Pink Floyd was there, things got crazy. He was able to see, from the balcony of this West German coffee shop, into East Germany, where, he explained, they didn’t have the freedoms that American kids took for granted, and as a result it was a lifeless, dreary, gray place.

I raised my hand. “Yes, Keith,” he called on me, full of patience and hope.

“Mr. Haney, I was just wondering, on what side of that wall do you think they were more likely to coerce children into pledging their allegiance?”

And that is the story of why I do not know how to play the clarinet.

A couple of years ago I went to see my friend Nick graduate from high school. The audience rose to their feet to recite the Pledge of Allegiance. I did as I usually do and politely stood in silence as everyone around me pledged their allegiance to a flag. A woman in the front row had a nice strong voice and was proudly taking a leadership role in the recitation. She then raised her voice even louder, to a yell, a roar even, as she reached the most contentious phrase, “… one nation UNDER GOD!!!” and she looked around just daring any motherfucker to come at her. I smiled and then actually let an out-loud laugh escape as she smugly uttered the next word “indivisible” with no indication of irony whatsoever.