This summer, I embarked on an unexpected journey as an international cat courier. I took a trip from my home in Spokane, Washington, to Washington D.C., where I met my sister-in-law. Together, we traveled to her new government assignment in Algiers, where I was tasked with caring for one of her two beloved cats during the flight.
As someone who had never set foot in a Muslim-majority country, I was both excited and apprehensive. Friends who had traveled extensively cautioned me about Algiers’ conservative nature and the importance of avoiding discussions on religion and politics. A colleague from the United Nations provided me with essential advice on appropriate attire, emphasizing the need for modesty and minimal skin exposure.
Once we arrived, my sister-in-law would begin her work the following day, leaving me to navigate a new city on my own. In Algiers, credit cards were useless, and cash was the only currency accepted, making my options for exploration quite limited. Nevertheless, I planned to endure this experience before heading to Italy for a much-anticipated vacation.
With limited activities available, I spent my time wandering the streets, befriending the local cats, and engaging with the residents. Armed with my college French and some recent practice on language apps, I conversed with shopkeepers, chatted with security personnel outside embassies, and met various locals. My grammar may have been imperfect, but the warmth of the interactions was undeniable.
What struck me most was the palpable love for their homeland among the people I met. Despite the historical struggles for independence and the scars of a civil war, there was a deep-seated pride in their identity. However, I also observed the absence of open dialogue about politics and the constraints on freedom of expression. Their pride coexisted with a cautious silence.
During my layover on the return journey, I met a Delta employee from Algeria. I shared my experiences of the kindness I encountered, and his face brightened with pride. “It’s better now,” he said, but when discussing the government and the civil war, his voice dropped to a whisper, revealing the lingering shadows of his past.
Now residing in the U.S. after earning a Ph.D. in economics and teaching for three decades in Poland, he planned to return to Algeria in September. His story resonated with me, highlighting the complexities of identity and belonging.
In all honesty, I found myself feeling a surge of patriotism for America, which surprised me given my background and the current political climate. Many of my peers expect a critical stance towards our government, often dismissing those with differing views. Yet, I realized that those who advocate for diversity and inclusion can sometimes be intolerant of opposing perspectives.
We have become increasingly polarized, often shouting at each other rather than engaging in meaningful dialogue. While some have grown numb to the political landscape, I remain deeply affected by the current state of affairs, fearing a potential return to conflict.
In academia, we often take for granted our ability to voice opinions freely. The events of 2016 served as a wake-up call, reminding us that not everyone shares our views. This disconnect has contributed to the current cultural and political turmoil.
Despite my frustrations, I still cherish the foundational values of America. The eloquent language of our founding documents inspires me, and I often share them with my creative writing students. The wisdom of our historical figures, like Lincoln, resonates deeply, reminding me of the ongoing pursuit of a more perfect union.
Just before my long flight, a friend shared Ronald Reagan’s final speech with me, where he emphasized that anyone from anywhere can come to America and become part of our nation. His words struck a chord, highlighting the importance of welcoming new voices and perspectives.
Reflecting on my journey, I recognize the necessity of critiquing our country while also engaging constructively with its imperfections. We must teach future generations how to advocate for change while appreciating the values worth preserving.
Witnessing a country like Algeria, which has closed itself off politically, serves as a cautionary tale. In higher education, if we isolate ourselves from uncomfortable truths or dismiss dissenting opinions, we risk becoming stagnant and fearful.
After five days of exploring Algiers, I boarded my flight to Rome, eager to indulge in delicious cuisine and engage in lively discussions about the world’s challenges. Loving your country doesn’t mean believing it’s flawless; it means recognizing the importance of keeping the door open for new ideas and voices. In both democracy and academia, the moment we stop embracing diversity, we begin to wither from within.