What does it mean to be American?
Some may say it means you were born within the geographical boundaries that make up the United States. Others might say it is an idea, mindset, or a shared set of values—intangible in substance but strong in feeling. Ultimately, American identity depends on the perspective of the person.
We talked to four members of the Pacific Oaks community with vastly different experiences—from living in the United States as an undocumented immigrant, to being raised in the home of a Holocaust survivor—to learn more about how their individual stories have shaped their personal perspectives on what it means to be an American.
THE OPTIMIST
Carrie Zalkind
Director, President’s Office & Board Affairs
My father always tried to impress upon us that you could do anything in America.
When comparing Carrie Zalkind’s and her father’s experiences growing up, you’ll discover a stark juxtaposition between a childhood as sweet as apple pie and one rooted in terror and loss.
Zalkind grew up in sunny California with her family. Her father, Gerald Dubrow, a 90-year-old Holocaust survivor born in Lithuania, was forced into a ghetto as a kid, lost his parents, and then was later sent to Dachau concentration camp. 
Zalkind went off to college at 18 years old. At the same age, her father finally left a refugee camp in Italy after an American aunt and uncle were found to sponsor him. Zalkind’s perspective on the American experience has been heavily influenced by her father’s journey from genocide survivor to American citizen.
“It’s not just going to the movies, watching ‘Schindler’s List,’ and saying ‘Wow that was horrible,’” Zalkind says. “History is right there in my living room when I get home at night asking, ‘How was your day?’”
The Holocaust wasn’t brought up every day in her house, but her father made sure that Zalkind and her sister knew all there was to be grateful for and how much opportunity they had. Dubrow would tell them, “You can go to college, you can become president of the United States, you can do anything you choose, you have opportunities here that you don’t have in other countries.”
Dubrow was only 16 years old when World War II ended. Going from war-torn conditions in Europe to living in America and attempting to assimilate to an entirely different way of life was a huge transition. It gives Zalkind an appreciation for the diverse range of backgrounds and cultures that come to America and struggle to discover their own American identity.
“I remember him telling us that one day he had come home carrying a Yiddish newspaper,” Zalkind says. “His
aunt took it away and said, ‘You cannot read that until you are fluent in English. It’s your obligation in this country.’ He said it really forced him to try to acclimate to the United States.”
Today, Zalkind credits her father for giving her a greater awareness of the privileges she enjoys. And she thinks more Americans should exercise the rights afforded to them.
“I can say to you, hypothetically, that I’m unhappy with America and I’m against my government, but still go home tonight and come back tomorrow completely fine,” Zalkind says. “In other countries, if you did that, you would go home, be arrested, and your family would never see you again.”
THE DREAMER
Karla Castellanos
Enrollment Counselor
I had always felt like an American. But that day I realized, maybe I’m not.
Growing up in the U.S., Karla Castellanos never realized she was different from any of her American friends until her senior year of high school when she began applying for college.
“I remember asking my mom for my birth certificate and social security number to submit—just like what everyone else was doing,” she says. “My mom said, ‘Well, you know, you don’t have a social security number.
Years ago her parents had abandoned their lives in Mexico seeking to provide their children the chance at a better future by coming to America, undocumented. So, although to Castellanos America is home, the U.S. government does not agree.
“I had always felt like an American. But that day I realized, maybe I’m not,” Castellanos says. “It makes you feel that you don’t belong in a sense. It was very emotional and I had to remind myself that I do belong here.”
In 2012, former President Barack Obama issued an executive order to protect undocumented immigrants who were brought to the country as children from deportation, and Castellanos has been part of the Deferred Action for Childhood Arrivals program (DACA) ever since. DACA helped Castellanos finish her degree in 2017 from California State University, Northridge. Today, the participants in this program are known as “Dreamers.”
But life as a Dreamer hasn’t been easy. In the wake of President Donald Trump’s election, ugly vitriol against minorities flies more freely. The president has been persistent on building a wall, determined to keep people like Castellanos’ family out.
“I remember when the president said that he was no longer going to continue DACA,” Castellanos says. “This meant, for people like me who have worked so hard to get an education and be providers in this country, that everything could still be taken away in an instant.”
But Castellanos remains undeterred in her positivity.
“I still feel America is a place where opportunity is available to everyone,” she says. “I feel part of a greater community. I am still proud to say that I am a Dreamer. It’s this time more than ever we should use our right to speak up, not just for Dreamers but for any individuals trying to make it within America. We’re all here for one purpose, which is to live a happy, successful life. We should help each other get there in any way that we can.”
THE ACTIVIST
Cheryl Greer-Jarman
School of Human Development Core Faculty
You know best that something is not working when you are a part of the group that it’s not working for.
When we think about American immigration from a historical perspective we might think of the Statue of Liberty, Ellis Island, and ships filled to capacity with the hungry, tired, and weak of other nations. But rarely do we think about internal migration.
“I was born and raised in California,” says Cheryl Greer-Jarman, the longest-tenured faculty member at Pacific Oaks College, who is celebrating 40 years with the school in 2019. “But my parents migrated from the South looking for greater opportunity.”
Born during the height of the Civil Rights era, Greer-Jarman’s upbringing didn’t spare her from the ignorance and bigotry of America’s past, and her parents were determined to prepare her for being black in America.
“My mom was adamant about teaching us what it is like to be African American in the context of the Civil Rights movement,” she says. “It was very important to my mom that we knew and visited our relatives in the South. Many of those early experiences shaped my identity because there were things that happened there that did not happen in California.”
Greer-Jarman remembers there being only a few places where her family could stop during trips—hotels where “colored people” could stay. Sometimes the family would stop to wash themselves in gas stations because there just weren’t any hotels that would accept them nearby.
However, according to Greer-Jarman, equally important to defining her American identity was growing up in a Christian home, where she was taught to love everybody. As she got older and began noticing the contrast between how a nation founded on the principles of Christianity speaks and acts, childhood disequilibrium became replaced by teenage anger.
“I was very angry,” she says. “One morning when we were engaged in the ritual of reciting the pledge, I stopped and paid attention to the words. When we arrived at the part that says ‘liberty and justice for all’ I had flashbacks of the many things I had experienced. And I stopped saying the Pledge of Allegiance that day. I have not said it since. Until there is liberty and justice for all I am not going to pretend that there is.”
Some may call that unpatriotic. But Greer-Jarman thinks her silent protest defines what being an American is all about.
“Think about the people that were the first to come here, they were fleeing their own oppression,” she says. “I was born here, I consider myself patriotic and I love this country. Some people think that if we don’t agree with certain things about the U.S. then we should leave. But those people are more focused on the group that is unhappy rather than the issues the group is unhappy about in the first place. Those people don’t have to be unhappy because it works well for them and often assume that if someone just works hard like them, that person will receive what they have. But you know best that something is not working when you are a part of the group that it’s not working for.”
THE SURVIVOR
Mi Sook Song
Marriage & Family Therapy Student
I will never forget my past experience because my family is still in my heart, but I’m going to focus on my present life here.
In 2002, Mi Sook Song experienced the untimely death of both her husband and teenage son—within weeks of each other.
Suddenly her home in South Korea, where she had spent all her life, became a constant reminder of the pain and anguish she felt. So she left, emigrating from South Korea to the U.S.
“It was an escape from my country because I lost my family, so I wanted to forget everything in my past,” she says.
Her sister was already living in the U.S. and helped her apply for a green card. But Song didn’t choose the U.S. just for her sister. She saw America as a land of opportunity, the place where she could start again. Like many people, she decided to pursue education as her catalyst for change.
“People in Korea and other countries do not have the same opportunities for education that I have found here,” Song says. “So I feel blessed to be a part of this country and to have that chance.”
Everything was new: the students, the language, and the way classes are structured.
“In South Korea, every student is supposed to just listen to the teacher,” she says. “Here, everyone is encouraged to speak up. It was very hard for me to participate in the classroom because I was not raised to speak up. Everything here is a constant learning experience.”
She officially became a U.S. citizen in 2009. Song is currently studying Marriage & Family Therapy at Pacific Oaks, and has managed to forge her own unique American identity along the way, fueled by education, in spite of the immense challenges she has faced.
“The past is in the past,” Song says. “My family is still in my heart, but I’m going to focus on my present life here. I am happy to have had an opportunity to start over knowing I live in a place where anything is possible.”
Everyone has their own story on their American identity. Now it’s your turn: what does being American mean to you? Share your response online using the hashtag #POVoices.
Read articles from the Summer 2019 issue of Voices:
Under the microscope: Education in America
Out with the new, in with the old
Per-spec-tive: A word from President Dr. Jack Paduntin
Learn more about Pacific Oaks College
If you would like to learn more about the academic programs available at Pacific Oaks, fill out the form below to request more information, or you can apply today through our application portal.
