American.

I am at a lost for words.

I truly am.

A couple years ago I went to South America for a trip with my family and the most surprising thing happened.

I was called "American".

Not Hispanic.

Not Latino.

Not Mexican.

But American.

I was finally being called by the nationality of the country I was born in.

For a moment, I was proud.

Extremely proud.

But in the next second, I was disappointed.

Disappointed in the fact that I had to travel 3,053 miles away from home to be called "American".

Disappointed that I've let my nationality be over shadowed by my "ethnicity" and "race".

Disappointed that I've been asked and have been asked "What are you?" and "Where are you from?"

But no more since that day.

America is my home.

And American is my nationality.

Art:

Chamber of Reflection