In 2001, I was age 31, working for www.hollandamerica.com at the Worldwide Corporate Headquarters and living in Seattle, WA. It still feels like yesterday when the United States reeled from that unprecedented terrorist attack on Sept-11 and it was a time when fears of anti-American sentiment surged across the globe. For Americans traveling abroad, like me for my job, traveling was a common occurrence as Holland America's fleet of cruise ships spanned the globe and I often needed to be on board to meet with staff and do my work.
It went without saying that safety became a pressing concern for all Americans after that attack.
One peculiar yet widespread solution emerged when someone that I knew from our HR Department came to my office (I worked in the Entertainment Division) and presented me with a pin of the Canadian flag. They told me that pinning a Canadian flag to one's lapel will make others think you're from Canada and not America. Use it when you travel, they said. It may very well keep you safe.
This gesture, simple and unassuming, was allegedly designed to serve as a protective cloak — a way to avoid being perceived as an American in an uncertain and volatile world, and although there were concerns running amok about safety - I, for one, was not going to live in fear. I wasn't going to hide my American pride. I mean, I love Canada! Who doesn't? It's such a beautiful, friendly country. I'd be proud to say that I was from there, if I was actually from there. It's just the principle of it all for me and I wasn't going to travel the globe pretending to be Canadian, because my employer recommended it to remain safe from terrorists or whoever.
I mean, what? Fear them? Become invisible?
OK, so fast forward to the present day 2024. A new political administration has emerged, or shall I say, resurged, and with it, renewed fears among LGBTQ+ individuals and allies. This time, the symbol in question is not a Canadian flag but the rainbow flag, a beacon of hope and pride. Yet, for some, displaying this emblem in certain spaces or under particular circumstances feels as risky as donning an American flag pin in hostile territory two decades ago. Sadly, these are the times we're in.
And sadly, there are some striking parallels between the "Canadian flag pin theory" in 2001 and the contemporary "rainbow flag persecution" happening today in 2024.
Hear me when I say that there is some deep psychology going on when we speak about symbolic visibility. This cultural and political climate continues to force marginalized groups to alter or hide their identities, and the enduring tension between safety and self-expression continues to be at risk.
A Nation on Edge
In the months following September 11, 2001, the world viewed the United States through a conflicted lens. Many nations mourned alongside Americans, offering condolences and support. Others harbored deep-seated grievances, blaming U.S. policies for their own suffering. For Americans traveling abroad, this polarized sentiment created an atmosphere fraught with uncertainty. Traveling so frequently for work, I remember this all too well.
Employers, like mine, concerned for their employees’ safety, began advising precautions. Some suggested avoiding overt displays of American identity like an American flag t-shirt or cap. This was when the Canadian flag pin emerged in and around the greater Seattle area and oddly became a subtle yet powerful workaround, allowing Americans, (ahem! some Americans) to navigate global spaces without drawing undue attention.
This practice, while it certainly was controversial, reminded me of a very important universal truth: symbols carry weight. They communicate identity, allegiance, and values. And in times of crisis, these symbols can become both shields and targets.
Challenge your Thinking
A belief is just a thought that you continue to think.
Change your thinking, change your beliefs.
Let's take the symbol of the red baseball cap. In its simplicity, this cap forces a reconsideration of how symbols operate in society. Is it the physical object, the words on it, or the collective societal context that grants meaning? As with other symbols, like (1) the rainbow flag (2) Swastika (3) Scales of Justice (4) the Cross, to name a few, the power lies in the stories we attach to the symbol and the emotions it provokes.
Symbols and are shaped by our interactions with them. Ultimately, symbols are not inherently good or bad but are reflective of the ideologies and identities we choose to associate with them.
For decades, the rainbow flag has been a symbol of LGBTQ+ pride, resilience, and visibility. Created by Gilbert Baker in 1978, its vibrant colors represent diversity and unity within the LGBTQ+ community. Over time, it has become a global emblem of inclusion and a rallying cry for equal rights.
Yet, in the current political climate, this symbol faces new challenges. The president-elect and administration have signaled policies that have already started to dismantle LGBTQ+ protections, embolden hate groups, and roll back progress on equality. In some parts of the country, waving a rainbow flag - or even wearing subtle LGBTQ+ symbols - feels as perilous as carrying an American passport in 2001's volatile regions.
How sad this is. How sad! My beloved America, my safe haven, my mother country has arrived at this position in its journey as a nation.
But this post isn't written from fear. This is about fearless visibility.
Why do we alter or hide our symbols in threatening times? The answer lies in the psychological need for safety. Humans are hardwired to avoid danger, often through assimilation or concealment. Post-9/11, wearing a Canadian flag pin wasn't about renouncing one's American identity; for some, it was a calculated act of self-preservation. Similarly, LGBTQ+ individuals who hesitate to display rainbow flags in certain settings are not betraying their identities but rather navigating the harsh realities of a hostile environment.
This phenomenon - known as "code-switching" - extends beyond symbols. It encompasses speech, behavior, and appearance. Code-switching allows individuals to adapt to different cultural contexts, often as a means of survival.
The Cost of Concealment
While hiding one's identity may ensure some safety, it comes with significant emotional and societal costs. Concealing symbols like the rainbow flag can lead to feelings of isolation, shame, and inauthenticity. On a broader scale, it sends a troubling message: that visibility equates to vulnerability. This is precisely why I politely passed back the Canadian flag pin to my HR representative back in 2001.
The post-9/11 Canadian pin theory was a temporary measure, born of extraordinary circumstances. But for LGBTQ+ individuals, the need to "blend in" feels perpetual, reinforced by systemic discrimination and cultural stigmas that go back many, many years.
Despite these challenges, both the post-9/11 and LGBTQ+ communities have shown remarkable resilience. Americans abroad found ways to balance safety with patriotism, often engaging in subtle acts of defiance. Similarly, LGBTQ+ activists continue to find innovative ways to promote visibility and advocate for rights, even in the face of adversity.
From rainbow crosswalks to digital activism, the LGBTQ+ community demonstrates that symbols can evolve and adapt. The rainbow flag itself has undergone iterations, incorporating new colors to reflect intersectionality and inclusion.
My fellow Americans, you beam with pride when I pass back the Canadian flag pin and proudly stay out and visible as a proud American, but you encourage me to hide my rainbow flag and run back into the closet for my own safety because a proud gay American isn't welcome here in America.
Are these my fellow Americans?
Lessons
The post-9/11 Canadian flag pin offers a poignant lesson for today’s LGBTQ+ community: Safety and visibility are not mutually exclusive. Just as Americans found ways to assert their identity while minimizing risk, LGBTQ+ individuals can navigate the complexities of self-expression in a fraught political climate, in America.
This might mean choosing where and when to display the rainbow flag or adopting alternative symbols of pride that resonate more subtly. It could also involve building stronger ally networks to amplify visibility and share the burden of advocacy. Be careful my friends but stay visible.
Fearless Visibility
Ultimately, the goal is not to retreat into the shadows but to create a world where no one feels compelled to hide. This required collective action on Super Tuesday that sadly has already started to turn fellow Americans against fellow Americans. I intend to hold our policymakers accountable, and I will foster environments where diversity is celebrated, not threatened. I will spread joy and love and I will squash fear. I will. I will, dammit, I will.
Yet, with all this upon us, I love my fellow Americans, and I will continue to do my best to "live like Jesus lived" and vigilantly spread love and good will to all people.
Jesus died on upon of the most known symbols of the world and whenever I see that symbol, I am reminded to "live like Jesus lived." It was on that very cross when he prayed, "Forgive them Father, for they know not what they do." This is precisely how I feel about my fellow Americans that voted for this administration. I love them yet I hope that the other half, my half, of my fellow Americans that voted blue are not continually persecuted by them.
In thinking up this blog-post and the parallel between 9/11 and the current LGBTQ+ experience, one thing becomes clear to me: Symbols matter. They unite us, inspire us, and remind us of who we are. Whether it's a Canadian flag pin on a lapel or an unfurled rainbow flag on a porch, these emblems carry the power to ignite change - if we let them.
The core value category for this blog post is "spreading joy and love" because when someone tells you they are gay, they just gave you a glimpse of the depth and power of their capability to love. To me, the rainbow flag is a symbol of love. When I see the rainbow flag, I see it through the eyes of Jesus. It represents everyone! EVERYONE! (not just LGBTQ+) and it also reminds us "to live like Jesus" and love EVERYONE.
It was my very intention, in writing this blog-post, to underscore the enduring tension between identity and safety. It is a balancing act that millions navigate daily, and it challenges us to consider our own roles in shaping our world. This is why my beloved Eureka Springs remains so close to my heart. We are a community that is resilient with our identity to love and welcome ALL people. Here in Eureka Springs visibility is not a liability but a right. Shouldn't the rest of America feel this way, too?
Well, that's my opinion.❤️
IMO is a blog-series where I, John-Michael Scurio, express my own personal opinion about some subject or situation. It's an editorial of sorts. "But what about the opinions of others?" people ask. "Yeah, that!" I reply, "Well, this specific blog-series isn't about other opinions - just mine. If I opened it all up to other opinions, I'd need to change the acronym (IMO) to something else and it probably wouldn't feel as cool, but, hey, that's also just my opinion."
Do you want me to write and *IMO blog-post about something new? Tell me about it: jmscurio@yahoo.com Please take a moment to check out the different posts in this particular blog series on www.iloveureka.com.
Spread love, my friends.
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