It might be surprising, considering I grew up in the irony-poisoned Britain of the 90s, but the last 10 years in this country has made me somewhat patriotic. But that’s patriotic in the sense that I’m now a person who reads the Federalist papers, letters from the Civil War and the biographies of LBJ, and remembering that day in 2009 on the Mall. Patriotism in the sense of I’ll be damned if I let these people desecrate the founding documents of this country and the nation of immigrants that gave rise to the American Century. Patriotism in the service of bending the arc of the moral universe to justice. Patriotism in living our lives as a form of resistance, a happier life than I could ever have imagined, and worth fighting for.