Beyond "Us" and "Them": America's 250th Anniversary

As America approaches its 250th anniversary, I find myself reflecting on who we are as a nation. The stories we tell ourselves about our history shape how we understand ourselves and one another. Yet one of the greatest challenges facing our country today may be the same challenge that has existed since the beginning: the tendency to divide the world into "us" and "them."

Social scientists call this othering, the social and psychological process of labeling individuals or groups as fundamentally different and inferior to the perceived "normal" group. Othering creates distance. It simplifies complex human beings into categories and stereotypes. It allows us to ignore the humanity of those who do not look like us, vote like us, worship like us, or share our cultural background.

As someone whose ancestry includes both Native American and European roots, I often find myself reflecting on the complicated history that lives within me. The story of America is not someone else's story. It is my story. The settlers and the Indigenous peoples. The newcomers and those who were already here. The losses, the resilience, the mistakes, and the possibilities. All of it belongs to our collective inheritance.

It is tempting to frame history as a battle between heroes and villains. But yoga offers another perspective.

One of the foundational teachings of yoga is that separation is, in many ways, an illusion. The Sanskrit word avidya, often translated as ignorance or misperception, refers to our tendency to mistake the surface differences between people as the whole truth. We become attached to labels, identities, and categories, forgetting the deeper reality that connects us.

The ancient yogic texts teach that beneath our many differences lies a shared essence. The Mahā Upanishad expresses this beautifully: "The world is one family" (vasudhaiva kutumbakam). While this may sound idealistic, it points toward a profound practice. We tend to reserve empathy, patience, and understanding for those we consider "our own." The invitation of vasudhaiva kutumbakam is to expand that circle until it includes everyone. In this view, strangers are not outsiders but members of the same human family whose stories we have not yet heard. The more we learn about one another, the harder it becomes to reduce people to labels, stereotypes, or enemies. The boundaries between "us" and "them" begin to soften, making room for a deeper sense of connection and belonging.

The challenge of othering does not end at our nation's borders. Just as we can reduce our neighbors to stereotypes, we can do the same with people in other countries, cultures, and faiths. It becomes easy to see entire nations as threats, competitors, or abstractions rather than communities of human beings seeking the same things we seek: safety, dignity, opportunity, and a sense of belonging. If the world is truly one family, then the practice of expanding our circle of concern must extend beyond our own tribe, party, or nation.

This does not mean we should ignore historical injustices or pretend that painful chapters in our history as a nation never occurred. Healing requires honesty. America's history includes extraordinary achievements as well as profound wounds. The displacement of Indigenous peoples, the institution of slavery, and the exclusion of many groups from the promises of liberty are part of the story. So too are resilience, courage, innovation, and the ongoing expansion of rights and opportunities.

Yoga teaches us to sit with complexity rather than rush toward simplistic conclusions. It asks us to hold multiple truths at once.

As we celebrate 250 years of American independence, perhaps the most meaningful question is whether we can learn to see one another more clearly.

Can we recognize that every person carries a story we do not fully know?

Can we acknowledge historical pain without becoming trapped by resentment?

Can we celebrate what is good about our nation while continuing to work toward what it might become?

The practice of yoga begins with awareness. Before we can change the world, we must notice the habits of mind that create division. We must notice when we reduce others to categories. We must notice when fear, anger, or ideology prevent us from seeing the human being in front of us.

America's 250th anniversary offers an opportunity to do just that.

Perhaps the next chapter of our national story will not be written by those who shout the loudest about our differences, but by those willing to remember our shared humanity. The work of overcoming othering is not merely political. It is spiritual. It is the practice of recognizing ourselves in one another.

Two hundred and fifty years after the founding of this nation, that may be one of the most important freedoms we can cultivate: the freedom to move beyond "us" and "them" and toward a deeper understanding of "we."

I love you. I love us. Happy Fourth of July.