I keep chickening out of wearing one of my Union Jack t-shirts on the Fourth of July itself. Probably no-one would care or even notice, but it would feel like blowing a raspberry at the whole American Independence thing. Loudly. And there’s always the chance of meeting someone with a little more alcohol-fueled revolutionary fervour than is good for them, and I don’t want to get beaten up or attacked by some drunk redneck over my choice of apparel. If I’m going to get beaten up, I’d like it to be for something important.
But this year I may have found a way to express my own patriotism in a subtler way.
Since my red hair started to darken to its present browner shade, I’ve actually started to look pretty good in bright red.
Red’s a good patriotic American colour, the first of the trio of colours that we both share. No-one’s going to object. Least of all in Texas where it’s also the colour of the dominant Republican party. Look, I’m wearing a quintessentially American colour!
But red was also the uniform colour of the British soldiers during the period of the Revolution. It survives today in the British Army’s dress uniforms, including the Queen’s celebrated Grenadier Guards who are famed for not moving no matter what you do around them to try and distract them. Texas is too hot for a full coat or jacket around the Fourth, even quite late at night, so perhaps a red T-shirt…
I rather like the subtlety. I don’t want to be symbolically making rude gestures at the whole thing, just finding a way to touch base with my own national identity without getting perceived as cocking a snook.
This seems in itself fairly British. An understated but very real pride in our nation that doesn’t have to tell everyone how great we are. Maybe we do just expect everyone to know already, but this is America, and it’s the Fourth of July, and we were the Enemy during the War of Independence. And Americans are more in touch with their history than we are, because they have less of it to remember, and I’m doing my usual Fourth of July thing of worrying myself into a frenzy over the popular perception of my country as it was a mere couple of centuries ago.
Still, who can object to a red shirt? It’s subtle enough. Even a red shirt echoing the red coats of the Crown loyalists. No-one need know except you and me.