The drumbeat is constant. July 26 and August 6, 1945 are thrown in my face. There is no mention of December 7, 1941. My face is slapped with the history of slavery in the United States of America. There is selective amnesia regarding January 1, 1863. Civil rights initiatives and policies, which began in full force in the 1940s and continued through the end of the 20th century, are ignored. The list is long against my nation. Themes are predictably repetitive like the rain-dripping scorn of a nagging woman. Raconteurs place rich historical complexities within locked ideological cages. Allow me a yawn. Shoving American Indians onto reservations? I should be filled with undiluted hatred. My paternal grandmother was 3/4 Cherokee. She wore turquoise and silver Indian jewelry on all of her fingers. ‘They’ did ‘that’ to my bloodline. But then I remember another small fact. My great-great grandfather (on mom’s side of the family) was the unfortunate white man scalped by an Indian chief. Thinking of his bloody scalp hanging off a hatchet causes me to touch my own head of hair. I should be emotionally conflicted. My mind recalls small nuggets of family history. They were captured by what I heard in the womb, tales nourished on my mother’s chest and from her tongue. Truth always nests with perception. Perception is cultural. I am one of seven billion floating particles of opinionated existence. I lift my gaze to the stars and do the math. A smile remains on my face. There is a distinct curiosity when dealing with adversarial Muslim ‘historians’. The generational grudges held against the west never lap toward the shoreline of greater world history. The tumult of humanity requires a panoramic view across centuries. Humanity plunges into the waterfall of history together. Some historians take their trip down the waterfall in padded barrels of personal bias. The ride seems safer. We are vulnerable to the force exerted by history. Events beyond our control can demand their pound of flesh for human suffering. Yet I remain amazed. Individuals shoulder grudges for events that occurred before their birth, in a different century, between nations other than their own, and, without a contextual palette of greater difficulties. Their paintbrush dips into only one colour. The paint is always black. It is usually gritty. The US was the first global power to acquire a nuclear bomb. German scientists were fast on our heels. It was a race to the finish line. We merely got there first. A terrible and mighty power, a devil’s deuce, was unleashed on Japan. This action brought a war-torn world to the bargaining table. Millions of soldiers and civilians had already perished. The use of nuclear power brought a sad chapter in history to a close. In more than six decades, this power has remained positioned as an instrument of last resort amongst the nations of the nuclear club. The United States has led by example. I should be filled with self-loathing for lives lost in the cities of Hiroshima and Nagasaki. But then I remember that during the decline of a sickly Ottoman Sultanate, Armenian Christians were slaughtered due to a state-mandated massacre. I can allow myself to hear the echo of their death rattles travelling across history. I can imagine the butchers’ blades and the axe drenched with shadows of life. But then I will hate Turkish people. I have lovely Turkish friends. Life is too short. The US condoned slavery in our early history. The Sudan has an active slave trade in the 21st century. Perhaps the Sudanese have never read Lincoln’s “Emancipation Proclamation”? Human trafficking in women and children is statistically significant across much of the Middle East. You may yammer into my email regarding slavery in America. Meanwhile, click on the link and go to the country narrative on Pakistan. Self-righteousness does not impress me. Only good governance impresses Swofford. The most common anathema rained down upon the US is that we present as a sybaritic paradise. The decadence of the west is assailed. America is the ‘haves’ oppressing the have-nots’. It is a soft Marxist mindset that believes that if someone has more purchasing power than you do it is because he is a thief. Yet many American couples work full-time jobs to make ends meet. We have a strong work ethic that sustains industrial and technological growth. We labour diligently and promote communal peace so that work disruptions do not occur. Diversity is tolerated because we know that chronic low-grade conflict produces empty wallets. Our need for food and shelter trumps the desire for bellicose argument. History is complex and teaches us many lessons. But we can misidentify cause and effect. Sybaritic paradise? By the sixth century BC, the city of Sybaris was the envy of the Hellenistic world. They minted their own coins, embraced the concept of intellectual property and developed a rudimentary lighting system for the streets. Two things gave a definite advantage. The city was surrounded by a fertile farming belt. But more importantly, they welcomed settlers from other nations into their city and gave them full citizenship. They recognised that human capital and talent was not restricted to any particular ethnic heritage. Does this remind anyone of my nation? America retains a relatively strong dollar. Our intellectual community thrives within state-funded halls of academia. We have vibrant literary and arts communities. We maintain robust research environments. Innovative farming techniques allow us to ship food to many nations where famine and political instability take a human toll. Most importantly, we steadily extend a welcome to immigrants who come to America. We do not wish to harpoon our legal immigrants. Can we walk in beauty amongst the many cultures of the world? Can we cast aside historical grudges? The past is there to teach us. But we dwell in the present. Historians with greater remote memory than future dreams adorn my e-mail. They are lost in history; mired in the past. The writer is a freelance journalist and author of the novel Arsenal. She can be reached at tammyswof@msn.com