Guard Your Heart, Lest You Catch Feelings for the Flag
"Above all else, guard your heart, for everything you do flows from it." — Proverbs 4:23
TL;DR: When you borrow patriotic language to fight power, you risk falling in love with the story it tells. Whether you're defending immigrants or protesting kings, the rhetoric you use begins to shape what you believe. That’s why exemplarism matters. It's a way to strive for America without lying about it. Because myth is magnetic. And if you're not careful? You'll catch feelings for the flag.
Yesterday was a strange day in America — but these days, what isn’t?
On one side of Constitution Avenue: tanks, flags, troops, and a triumphant 79th birthday parade for President Donald J. Trump — 45th and now 47th President of the United States — overlapping with the 250th anniversary of the U.S. Army.
On the other: a nationwide protest campaign titled “No Kings Day”, echoing colonial rebellion, invoking 1776, channeling the language of liberty and anti-monarchy. But here’s the twist: this wasn’t a MAGA event. These were leftists, liberals, Gen Z activists. And instead of chanting "Death to America" or "This land is stolen" — they were saying things like:
“America is supposed to be a democracy.”
“We don’t elect kings in this country.”
“This nation was founded on resisting tyranny.”
It sounded... almost Republican. Or maybe just deeply American.
And here’s where it gets interesting.
The Rhetorical Infection
There’s a popular idea — half-joke, half-neuroscience — that men can sleep around without catching feelings, but women often can’t, biologically primed to bond through oxytocin and serotonin release.
Awkward generalization? Sure. But like all clichés, it’s sticky for a reason.
Apply that same logic to rhetoric.
If you keep sleeping with the language of patriotism — if you start quoting Jefferson and waving flags and invoking democracy, even as a tactic — don’t be surprised when you catch feelings.
You may have started with satire. With irony. With “using the master’s tools to dismantle the master’s house.”
But over time, the language doesn’t just perform your will — it reshapes your will.
The Stockholm of the Stars and Stripes
This is the danger of rhetorical mimicry. The protestors yesterday dressed their dissent in tricorn hats and Constitution cosplay, thinking they were re-skinning revolution in red, white, and blue. But that aesthetic isn’t neutral. It carries affective charge. Emotional weight. Mythic pull.
Once you stop chanting “America was never great” and start chanting “No Kings!” — you’ve already walked halfway into the story MAGA tells itself. You’ve entered the hero’s journey of American exceptionalism, even if you cast Trump as the villain.
But if he's the tyrant king...
Then who are you?
The freedom fighter?
The patriot?
Congratulations — you've joined the narrative.
Ellis Island Syndrome: Catching Feelings for the Death Star
Here’s the other place the feelings creep in: immigration.
Start defending migrants. Start marching for the undocumented. Start pushing back on border crackdowns, deportations, and family separation — and suddenly you find yourself talking like a Hallmark ad for Ellis Island.
You say things like:
“This is a nation of immigrants.”
“People come here to build a better life.”
“These people work hard. They contribute. They believe in the American dream.”
And now you’re not just arguing for justice. You’re arguing that America is uniquely good, uniquely open, uniquely worth crossing deserts and oceans to reach.
You’re echoing the same exceptionalist language as the people waving flags at MAGA rallies — just with different heroes and different villains. And slowly, you start believing it. You start loving it. Because the story you're telling is bigger than policy — it's the myth of America.
Even if you’re trying to burn down the Death Star, you might catch yourself falling for its architecture.
From Exceptionalism to Exemplarism
There’s a better version of this — a safer path through the fire. My friend Mike Signer (former mayor of Charlottesville, now a dad, a lawyer, and one of the best men I know) wrote a whole book about it.
It’s called exemplarism.
Not that America is inherently better than everyone else — but that it tries to be an example. A standard. A flawed but visible attempt at liberty, pluralism, openness. Something that others might learn from, copy, reject, remix — but not something divine or predestined.
And maybe that’s the line we have to learn to walk.
To guard our hearts — not from love, but from idolatry.
Because when you fight for the best version of America, it’s dangerously easy to forget that it’s not real yet. And worse: that it never fully was.
Extended Appendix & Historical Context
The 250th Anniversary of the U.S. Army
Founded on June 14, 1775, the U.S. Army predates even the Declaration of Independence. Born out of necessity to fight British imperialism, it was authorized by the Continental Congress and led by George Washington. It represents one of the earliest institutions of American resistance and collective identity.
This year, the Army's 250th anniversary fell on Donald Trump's 79th birthday and Flag Day, creating a dense symbolic cocktail of military pride, national identity, and political spectacle. All while anti-authoritarian protests were taking place under the banner of "No Kings Day."
What Does "No Kings" Really Mean?
The cry of "No Kings!" is older than hashtags. It goes back to Paine's Common Sense, to Jefferson's ink-stained fingers, to Boston's cobbled streets. It's foundational. And its resurrection in 2025—by those protesting Trump, of all people—reveals how deeply that strain of anti-authoritarianism still runs, across ideologies.
Even MAGA voters say it: "We don’t want global elites ruling us. We’re Americans, not subjects." The irony is that both sides of the cultural divide are now speaking the same ancestral language—they just imagine different tyrants.
Who Is Mike Signer?
Michael Signer is an author, constitutional lawyer, and former mayor of Charlottesville, Virginia. He wrote Demagogue (2009), Becoming Madison (2015), and Cry Havoc (2020).
As mayor during the deadly 2017 Unite the Right rally, Signer was thrust into a national spotlight as white supremacists marched with torches in his city. Heather Heyer was killed. The world watched. Signer, a Jewish public servant and a scholar of democratic fragility, was living inside a crisis he'd spent his life studying.
He emerged from it not with bombast but with resolve—insisting that America's best defense wasn't slogans or strongmen, but resilient, principled local leadership.
Exceptionalism vs. Exemplarism
Exceptionalism says: "America is the best. Follow us."
Exemplarism says: "America tries to be good. Watch us."
Exceptionalism wears the crown of destiny. Exemplarism bears the burden of example. One insists it is already great. The other insists it must constantly earn greatness.
Trump embodies exceptionalism. Big, brash, declarative: "Nobody builds better walls. We're number one. Everyone wants to be us." It's all performance. All assertion. It doesn’t need proof.
Exemplarism, on the other hand, is the music teacher, not the diva. It's the country trying to live out its promises even when it stumbles. It's not self-hatred. It's moral adulthood.
And as protesters shout "No Kings" in George Washington cosplay, the real question is: will they act like kings in turn—or examples?