Note: Each year, Studio B art gallery in Boyertown, PA puts on a theme-based exhibit, and publishes an anthology of art and writing with that theme in mind. This writing was a submission for this year's online anthology: "I Am - Proud to B--You and Me."
When I attended Catholic school, I learned about “the seven deadly sins,” one of which was pride. “Pride” in that context meant a grand, arrogant sense of self, and entitlement to treat others in controlling and harmful, maybe even "deadly" ways! Aside from the religious connotations of pride, there also seems to be a stigma associated with being proud of and/or demonstrating pride in who we are, what we do or have accomplished—maybe out of caution to be as modest and humble as we “should” be, and unfortunately, knowing others may disapprove, discrimate, and worse.
However, expressing pride in our lives, who we are and what we value, in other words, letting our little (or large) light shine, can be a positive experience, both in the sharing, and hearing from others. Such stories can motivate us to do even better and imagine what is possible.
While there is still criticism of those who have come a long way with enormous obstacles and challenges to be able to say they are proud of who they are or have become, there was a shift in the late 60s/early 70s--a social revolution really. For the first time, various groups organized and came forward--encouraged to embrace pride and to express it--even to celebrate their individuality, race, gender and/or ethnicity and to work toward civil/human rights and equality. In doing so, they challenged how they were perceived, portrayed and/or discriminated against.
“Black is beautiful” was an affirmative slogan; women spoke of breaking through the “glass ceiling,” and not being seen as sex objects; Native Americans made known the many problems confronting reservation tribes; gay and lesbian folks were coming out of “hiding,” rejecting the discrimination, shaming, and even criminalization due to their gender and/or sexual orientation.
When Studio B, a local cultural center called for writing expesseing what we are proud of, I could not wait to learn what others take pride in. I had never really thought to speak or write about what I am proud of, though I have often felt pleased about many areas of my life. Right off, I thought of the pride I have in family's accoplishments: My husband Robert’s having been a combat artist in Vietnam, and the body of soulful and masterful work he has created since. I have pride in earning a BA and MA while working and raising a family. I am proud of our two sons’ natural abilities and acquired skills, now working in professions in which they exel, love, and are able to support themselves and their families. I am proud of our four grandchildren for their creativity and kindness--all growing up and, no doubt, will have much to contribute to the world.
I am proud of my country’s laws and institutions that, while they may need monitoring and improvement always, have supported and protected us though currenlty they are being dismantled one by one. I am proud of my community’s many initiatives working for the common good—focusing on our similarities, rather than our differences, providing informative, creative, cultural, educational activities and events, such as Studio B has done and is doing.
After much thought to what I am most proud of, I can say: I am most proud of my heritage. Both my paternal and maternal grandparents emigrated to America from Italy in the late 1800s, leaving everything behind—never to return to home and homeland, family, friends, neighbors, and cultural roots. They had not much to bring with them of material value, but what they did bring with them them were courage, fortitude, and faith that they would succeed in their desire and need for a better life.
How? by working hard and long, enduring whatever it took to orient themselves in a new world, at first speaking no English and with no highly marketable skills. My paternal grandfather worked as a janitor in a school outside of Philadelphia. My maternal grandfather worked in a shoemaker’s shop. Both grandmothers raised children, kept house, made meals, baked bread, planted and maintained gardens, put up the harvest for the winter and much more. They had no luxuries, no sick days, no vacations, no “time off.” At first their homes were heated only by fireplaces or pot belly stoves, but they were cozy, and we were welcomed with open arms. They, as most Immigrants (even now if possible) became part of an existing ethnic community which supported their transition in many ways, while still honoring their own traditions.
I am proud that I come from such heritage (as many of us do)—from adventurous souls with the necessary bravery and determination (and probably lots of fear and anxiety) to work toward a better future. They became American citizens, but were often discriminated against and sometimes from one ethnic group to another. Nevertheless, they did make the best of life, little by little. No matter the challenges, obstacles and setbacks, they carried on. In doing so, they helped make America become a more perfect union, built by the “tired, poor, and huddled masses yearning to breathe free.” They were welcomed under the “lifted lamp” of the Statue of Liberty “beside the golden door!”
America was the “golden door,” hopefully, not yet too tarnished or closed off to remember the huddled masses—those who, given the opportunity in dire circumstances, demonstrate extraordinary strength and perseverance. My immigrant ancestors (and many of yours, no doubt) were extraordinary. They were grateful, as we are, to endure, sacrifice, and to model and pass on the values of education, work ethic, faith, hope, kindness, and love. Of course, the greatest of these is love.
Now, in only the third and fourth generations since my grandparents' arrival, their extended families have that better life they had envisioned. I am so very proud to be a descendant of such heroic stock.
Grazie mille (many thanks) to my Italian grandparents: paternal - Else Arnone and Giuseppe Rotondo, and maternal - Mini and Ricardo Speranza. And to my husband Robert’s Italian grandparents: paternal - Maria de Martino and Antonio DiGugliermo and to his Polish maternal grandparents: Wielkie dzięki! (many thanks) to Stephania Suchodolski and Witold Skowronski.
And also to Studio B (proud to have it in our community) for the opportunity to honor our ansestors here, and for many of us to share and to hear about our sources of pride.
