How I Raised a 21-year old Patriotic Hipster

Last summer, soon after the 4th of July, I dropped in on my 21-year old daughter. The month before, she had moved into her first apartment on Seattle’s Capitol Hill— possibly the hippest place to live in America (west of the Mississippi and north of Austin!). On her wall (as previously spotted on her virtual wall) were the leftovers of an enthusiastic celebration of our nation’s independence. On one side, the words I LOVE AMERICA had been craftily cut out and hung in a pleasing arc, on the other…an old American flag, scored during one of her faithful hunts at the local Value Village or Goodwill. There were flag paper plates and cups hanging around and a leftover sparkler or two.Fast forward to Christmas and another drop-by (originally from Louisiana, I adore the drop-by...as long as everyone obeys the rules, but that’s another piece). I was delighted to find another gem of a craft project, a tree topper luminary with the face of Abraham Lincoln. It was beautiful, and somehow so fitting, there on top of her tiny first-apartment-sized Christmas tree. I laughed and asked her why the public displays of affection for her country, and without missing a beat she said with a smile, "Because, everyone looks good in red, white and blue." She proceeded to show me photos of her fun-loving group of friends, many of whom study acting as she does, decked out in awesome outfits adorned with stars, stripes, sequins and eagles. She’s right—everyone does look good in red, white and blue.

But that’s not the only reason. My daughter was raised in the theatre by a group of intensely passionate artists. It really was a village of friends and colleagues who babysat or kept her company during rehearsals, performances and tours. She grew up with great stories and even greater storytellers, adult playmates who loved to sing, recite or even stay up all night waiting to buy her the newest Harry Potter. She learned to love words and ideas and understood that underneath the fun and excitement, we had a serious mission. We were citizen artists, taking live theatre to small towns that didn’t often get such entertainment. My girl’s young ears were also filled with heated discussions of her parents’ activist coworkers and friends, many of whom are now politicians, authors and movement builders, like MomsRising’s own Kristin Rowe-Finkbeiner (a neighbor in Fremont, Seattle’s hippest neighborhood 20 years ago). Having grown up listening to people passionately debate positions and ideas, in real life and on stage, my daughter developed a strong sense of self. She has big ideas and is not afraid to express her opinions. She's smart, engaged and poised to embark on her own journey—in her art, through her teaching and with appreciation for being American.

In the early 90’s, as an anti-establishment activist-artist, I didn’t think it was cool to be patriotic, but I realize now that is exactly what I was being. I’m grateful that my daughter celebrates the stars and stripes, in her clothes, on her Pinterest boards and with her friends, but more importantly I’m glad that she loves what they stand for.