When the Cheering Dies Down
By Krystena LuCastro · Originally published on Medium May 18, 2025
It’s funny how, during the Olympics – or any international competition – an American athlete is simply called American. No hyphen. No footnote. The flag is enough. The uniform is enough. Their brilliance is enough.
We see the same dynamic in the military. In moments of national pride or defense, identity collapses into one unifying word: American. There’s no ask for heritage, no breakdown of ancestry.
But once the spotlight dims – once the victory laps are done or the mission complete – the hyphens quietly return.
The cheering dies down.
Suddenly, it’s Black American. Asian American. Latino American. As if excellence was a temporary passport into full belonging. As if we were only unified for the sake of optics or outcome.
Whiteness, of course, still gets to be just American. That’s the default. That’s the baseline. Everyone else comes with a prefix.
It’s subtle, but it’s deeply rooted. It tells us that some identities are only celebrated when they serve a national purpose – on the podium, in a war zone, or when winning for the country. But in daily life? The qualifiers creep back in.
The same people we cheer for are often the ones profiled. The ones questioned. The ones “othered.”
That contradiction should make us uncomfortable. Because we’ve become desensitized to it.
True unity shouldn’t require a medal or military service. And true Americanness shouldn’t disappear when the celebration ends.
I wish it wasn’t like this.
I wish we didn’t need triumph to earn inclusion.
I wish we didn’t need qualifiers to belong.
I wish the hyphens didn’t come back the moment the moment ends.
If we can all be American when we win,
we should all be American when we’re simply here.
Read the published version on Medium