jkhawaja

I am the good son of an immigrant family. My father embraced the American Dream not because it was there for the taking, but because this country offered it to him. He left tyranny and stagnation and embraced the promise of egalitarianism based upon hard work rather than cronyism. His America was my America; the America that listens to what I say rather than the particular accent I use when I say it. His America was my America; the America that values self-respect, integrity, and offers a hand of compassion when one stumbles or loses the way. I am the good son of an immigrant family. My brown skin is my pride; the color of my father, the color of my people, and the color of America. My blood holds the promise of my kin and my ancestors and the community in which I live; red blood, spilled in the mountains of Kashmir, in the deserts of the Punjab, in the islands of the South Pacific, and in the jungles of Vietnam. I am the good son of an immigrant family. I am America.