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Not because I hate my country, but because it reminds me how arbitrary borders really are. I’m not just talking about DNA results that show ancient connections to Germanic Europe or Scandinavia, but more recent than that.
The more I trace my family tree, the clearer it becomes: borders are stories, not walls. I have close relatives stretching from Britain to Canada and Australia, and – judging by recent DNA matches – even second cousins with Chinese ancestry. It’s not nationality that connects me to others; it’s humanity.
Of course, I’ll celebrate the fun stuff. I’ll cheer for England in the big tournaments like anyone else. But when pride turns into obsession – when people start calling others enemies or traitors just for being from somewhere else, or because you dare to treat immigrants as fellow humans just trying to live their lives – that’s when it crosses the line.