After publishing my last essay, “My Thoughts on the State of America,” I got called out — publicly and directly — about something that runs deep in American culture: the way we so often call the United States “the greatest country in the world.”
One reader wrote, “I reject this ‘greatest nation on Earth’ language. This is a fantasy and dangerous. The idea that the other peoples of the Earth are less than us is revolting to me.” Another reminded me, with a map, that “America” is a continent, not a single nation, and that using the language of dominance — calling the U.S. ‘America’ — can feel imperialist to people in places like Mexico or elsewhere across the Americas.
They’re right.
It’s not hard to admit, because it’s true: so much of what we call patriotism is actually conditioning. We grow up hearing that America is “the greatest,” that we’re exceptional, that our way is the best way. It’s a drumbeat that drowns out the rest of the world, and it’s easy to repeat it without thinking. But the truth is, we are not better than other nations, and believing we are only leads to the arrogance and blindness that the rest of the world hears loud and clear — sometimes as “democracy,” sometimes as empire, sometimes as a warning.
And honestly, being Black in America should be proof enough for me to be careful with statements like that. To say there’s no other country I’d rather live in — that’s personal, that’s my experience. But to say I live in “the greatest country on earth” is something else entirely. That’s not pride, it’s a kind of condemnation of the rest of the world. And it simply isn’t true.
The rest of the world leads America in so many areas. Countries like Norway, Denmark, and Finland consistently top global rankings for happiness, healthcare, and social support. Japan and Singapore outpace us in education. Germany, Canada, and Australia provide stronger social safety nets and more accessible healthcare. Even when it comes to democracy, press freedom, life expectancy, and public trust, there are places that outperform the United States year after year.
How can that statement be true — how can we claim to be “the greatest” — when there’s so much we could learn from others? Maybe it’s time we put away the slogans and start asking what greatness really means, and how we can build something better, not just for ourselves, but in solidarity with the rest of the world.
It’s also important to acknowledge what our neighbors do for us — especially Mexico. We talk a lot about what we give or how we lead, but the truth is, Mexico has long been one of the United States’ most vital partners. Our economies are deeply linked. Mexico is one of our largest trading partners, supplying goods, produce, and labor that keep American industries moving — from agriculture to manufacturing, from restaurants to construction sites. Mexican workers, both here and in their own country, make sure there’s food on our tables and products on our shelves.
But it’s more than economics. Mexico has been a welcoming neighbor in ways Americans sometimes overlook. At different points in history, Mexico has offered refuge to U.S. citizens fleeing persecution, war, or simply looking for a new start. Artists, activists, and ordinary people have crossed south seeking safety or opportunity — sometimes when their own country wouldn’t protect them. And despite all the political finger-pointing, millions of Americans visit Mexico every year, welcomed as tourists, retirees, and neighbors.
In a world that’s more connected than ever, it’s time we recognize that our strength comes not from standing above others, but from standing beside them — with humility, respect, and gratitude.
So I want to take a moment and apologize for the insensitivity of those words — right here, in the same public way that I said them. Not just buried in a comment section, but in the body of a published article. To those who took the time to comment and call this out, please know that you have a voice, and you were heard. Thank you for reminding me that growth only happens when we’re willing to listen, reflect, and do better.
If there’s one thing I’m learning, it’s that true patriotism isn’t about slogans or superiority. It’s about the humility to learn, the courage to change, and the honesty to admit when we’ve gotten it wrong. We can’t demand accountability from our country if we aren’t willing to practice it ourselves.
This is how we get better. This is how we move forward — together.
Author’s Note: This was first published on Daily Kos. The words and images here were shaped by real conversations in the comment sections and beyond. Thank you to everyone who pushes the conversation forward — even, and especially, when it’s uncomfortable.
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Previously Published on Medium
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