These are my people

This is where I come from

We're givin' this life everything we got and then some

It ain't always pretty

but it's real

It's the way we were made

Wouldn't have it any other way

These Are My People

The problem of nationalism is, I think, connected to the problem of home. When we're young (or in love) we say that people are the best ever: you're the best mom in the whole world; you're the most handsome man in the world; America is the best country ever. As we mature, we see that, actually, the thing we love is fraught with errors. But this doesn't mean that we should stop loving it. Rather, we love it not because it is perfect, but rather because it's ours. I love my parents because they're mine. I love my hometown because it's my place. This way you can see the problems with those things that you love and still love them--there is no conflict there.