As a nonpartisan, national student newspaper, The SUNN Post is committed to publishing a diversity of opinions on political issues. Since 2026 is the 250th anniversary of the United States, we have invited student writers from differing political backgrounds to share perspectives on what the American flag means to them. The first of those perspectives, by Leo Glasgow, a conservative student at Cornell University, follows.
When I studied abroad at Peking University in China last year during my junior spring at Cornell, I wore an American flag pin every day. My pin and I stood out, as did my hat when I wore it: I might have been the first student to wear a Make America Great Again ballcap on the Great Wall of China. In a country where high-profile dissenters are punished and freedom of expression is suppressed, my flag pin wasn’t just a symbol of our current government — it represented our country’s foundational democratic ideals.
Realizing the flag pin was a statement of identity, I’ve continued to wear it every day at Cornell. Here, people have a stereotype of what they think my politics should be based on the fact that I’m Black and was raised by a single mom from the former Soviet Union. They’re always wrong.
My ability to buck that stereotype and be who I actually am is why the flag matters to me. In high school I was a staunch Democrat, but as I became disillusioned with a party that I found unreceptive to dissent or questioning, I began defining my own values of freedom of thought and expression, and have become more drawn to a symbol that I think stands for precisely that. The flag symbolizes our country’s acceptance of individuality and people like me who hold multiple identities. And it represents the commitment the founders made 250 years ago, that we’ll work to form “a more perfect union,” acknowledging imperfection and promising we’ll keep striving for constant improvement in our democratic experiment. Those values are a big part of what makes our country great, and are what inspire me to affix the pin to my lapel every day.
That understanding of the flag is especially important now. In many allied countries, favorable views of the United States have declined, with a poll last June showing sharp one-year approval drops among many of the two dozen countries surveyed — and that was before recent actions like the US incursion into Venezuela, which many longtime international friends didn’t like, though in reality, it was a wise strategic move. At the same time, confidence at home has weakened, especially among younger Americans, who report low trust in institutions and uncertainty about the country’s direction. The fact that the flag is now more often questioned is not a reason to discard it, but a reason to take it more seriously. Symbols matter most when they are contested, because that forces us to decide what we want them to stand for.
That we live in a nation where someone like me can exist is worth celebrating. That I can have multiple identities and be who I am — Black, a second-generation immigrant, someone who studies China, is unapologetically MAGA, and has written in defense of Israel at a time when holding that position on college campuses can invite threats — is a core American principle. Here, we are free to be who we are and express what we wish, unlike in countries like Iran or China, where there aren’t those political freedoms.
I also see in the stars and stripes the commitment our founding fathers made in the first line of the Constitution, promising the American experiment would never be finished, and meaning for our democracy to be argued over, reshaped, and carried forward by every generation.
The flag represents that process. And it belongs to those who played roles in building the country and those who challenged it to live up to its ideals; it is as much Thomas Jefferson’s as it is Harriet Tubman’s. It stands for a country that has contained vast flaws, including the enslavement and exclusion of millions of Black people, but has also been repeatedly challenged and made more inclusive by those determined to make it better. The same country that tolerated slavery was touched by Frederick Douglass; the same country that allowed segregation was inspired by Martin Luther King Jr.
Too often today, that concept of shared ownership of a democracy-in-progress is forgotten. The American flag has frequently been burned at protests in recent years, and polls show very low patriotism in American youth compared to older generations. Some of these people see the flag as a symbol of injustice and hypocrisy; for them, pride in our country can feel misplaced. But that view leaves out something essential. The same nation that at times falls short of its ideals also allows shortcomings to be challenged openly.
I see things differently than the young Americans who would reject the flag. If we operate under the assumption that society is improving and will continue to improve, celebrated figures of the past not aligning with contemporary ideals isn’t a problem — nor are imperfections in our current state.
The flag’s promise of “a more perfect union” demands that we engage with our history rather than erase it. That we debate rather than stay silent. That we recognize progress without pretending the work is finished. And above all, that we resist the urge to walk away from our country when it fails to meet our expectations.
As the child of a single mom who grew up in the Soviet Union, I do not take that extraordinary process of continual improvement for granted. I know what it looks like when a government rewrites history, suppresses dissent, and demands ideological conformity. In my academic work studying China, I have seen how Mao Zedong’s Cultural Revolution aimed to erase the past and allowed no room for disagreement.
It is no small thing that the United States allows its citizens to argue openly about what the country is and what it should become. That debate can be messy, frustrating, and deeply uncomfortable, but it is also a sign of strength.
Even now, across political and cultural divides, Americans continue to claim the flag as their own. It appears at the Olympics where our gold medalists wave it proudly, but also continues to be brandished at No Kings rallies and by Democratic challengers of Republican incumbents. The flag waves on in moments of both unity and disagreement, rising above partisan bickering and international disagreements to represent the world’s most vibrant democracy.
When I wore my flag pin in China, I was representing the United States’s democratic ideals in an environment lacking them. When I wear it at Cornell, I’m asserting that the flag belongs not to any one ideology, background, or political movement, but to anyone willing to claim it and contribute to the continual improvement of the country it represents.
The American flag is a symbol of an ongoing project. When I look at it, I do not see a simple story. I see conflict, progress, and possibility. I see a country that is still being shaped by people willing to argue about it, challenge it, and defend it. I see a country that made someone like me possible.
