“Wandering between Two Words, One Dead, the Other Powerless to Be Born”

They tell me I am an American, but who indeed am I? ¹ There is a sense of urgency that drives me to search for an answer to this question. The search leads me to painfully confront and define who I am. My identity is constructed, inherited, chosen, assigned, and some times distorted by those who, for whatever reason, insist on granting me less than full membership in this society.