Yours Sincerely, Do You also Question Home?

In class, we were asked: Do you feel more patriotic back home, or now, here in London? For some, it might be an easy answer. But for me, that question didn’t just make me think, it made me question everything, as always.

You see, I’ve come to realize that my sense of patriotism has gotten complicated over time, becoming less a fixed emotion and more a puzzle I keep rearranging. What is patriotism, really? Is it a devotion to the physical land, the soil and rivers that define my homeland? Or is it the humans, the everyday people who persevere despite hardship, or perhaps the generations who came before, carrying history on their backs? But then, do I include in this love the systems that fail those people, the injustices that take root as if they belong? When I say "my country," do I celebrate its wins on the world stage while ignoring the quiet suffering happening right alongside? Wouldn’t that be hypocritical?

If I was to feel proud when my country shines, shouldn’t I be full of shame for the injustices? Can I fully celebrate a place that doesn’t treat all its people as equals, that leaves some in darkness? Or does patriotism mean holding space for both, a love for the people and a call for change? A change that has recently started to seem further away than ever.

If my homeland isn’t a safe haven for everyone, can my love for it still be called patriotism? Or is it something else entirely, a commitment to imagine something better, a loyalty to what it could become, not just what it is?

I don’t know. But I do know this question won’t leave me. It’s one I carry with me, quietly searching for an answer that feels as big and as human as the country itself.

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