I, too, am an American.

Language is at the base of human interaction. In his book “The Hour Between Dog and Wolf,” John Coates argues that our highly evolved ability to move influences our thoughts, rather than the other way around. This means that our physical functioning is inextricable from our humanity itself, and one of the most important anatomical evolutions is that of our vocal chords. The ability to articulate is one of the primary advantages that humans have over other animals. Without it, we would not be able to have the same level of complexity of thought, nor would we be able to convey these thoughts to anyone else. Words allow us to make use of our cognitive power, and they give us the ability to form complex and meaningful communities with other humans. In his poem, “I Am An American,” Steve Connell labors over the power of words. He speaks about this within the context of being an American, and as Americans, we pride ourselves on one right in particular: our freedom of speech. Connell takes this right and brandishes it as a weapon of extreme empowerment, begging for accountability for the damage that it will inflict. And it is this willingness to accept the responsibility of words that makes them so powerful. One cannot wield a weapon effectively without acknowledging that it is dangerous. And I do think that Connell wants to be dangerous. All artists do. What is the point of creating if there is no room for trouble? I admire this poem, not because of Connell’s beautifully articulated mourning of Iroquois children, or because I agree with everything he is saying. I am moved by this poem because he asks me to hold him accountable for his words, and that conviction is something that I desperately want for myself. And when he asks, “If your words don’t define you, why are you talking?” it makes me want to shut up and think carefully before I speak again. It makes me want to be Connell’s definition of an American.