As Old Fashioned as a Hollyhock

June 2, 2026 — Pat Bertram

There are a lot of topics I stay away from mostly because . . . well, because I don’t welcome backlash. I’m just too sensitive. But sometimes a topic keeps staring at me, which makes it impossible not to face it. For example, every time I opened my internet browser the past couple of days, I had Google reminding me about pride month (small letters are my subtle rebellion), which reminds me that the only group in the whole country that’s not allowed to be proud are whites. If you’re proud to be white, then you’re automatically a white supremacist. According to some people, simply being white means you’re a white supremacist, which is utterly ridiculous. (And so is the term “white privilege,” now that I’m on my soapbox. It used to be that certain minority groups were considered under privileged, but that terminology, which was deemed racist, was replaced by “white privilege,” which is racist in a whole other way.) And why are whites so despised? We might not yet be the minority in western countries, but we are perhaps only 10% of the entire world population and destined to decline even further.

I’m not proud of being white, but not in any sort of apologetic way for crimes my ancestors never committed or crimes I am supposed to have committed simply for being born the way I am. I’m not proud because why would anyone be proud of the way they were born? It’s not something we could choose. It’s not something we did. It’s not something that took courage. It’s not something we earned. It’s simply who we are. Pride used to be a sin. Now it’s — apparently — something to celebrate.

I looked up the definition of “pride” in my actual book dictionary, printed before “diversity” was a thing, and pride is (or at least it used to be before the word was redefined) “Conceit. Disdainful behavior. Ostentatious display. A justifiable self-respect.” In other words, pride is not good unless you did something to earn your self-respect. (Or perhaps it’s just an excuse for that “ostentatious display” as the dictionary defined it?) But then, as I’m finding out, I’m terribly old-fashioned with old-fashioned values. I suppose I could be proud of that, but it’s not something to be proud about because it’s not something I earned. It’s just who I am.

I am proud of my writing skills — that is something I earned, something I worked hard for. I am proud of my blog, because it takes a certain discipline to keep a project going for almost twenty years. I am proud of being kind (mostly kind, anyway). I am proud of opening up and telling the truth about grief and dealing with the absence of a deceased spouse or life mate. I am proud of the work I’ve done on my yard, though I’m not necessarily proud of being a gardener, because the truth is, a garden does what a garden wants to do. (As I discovered again today. Years ago, I tried to plant a hollyhock garden, but it died and no other seeds ever grew. Until now. Apparently, the garden decided it wants hollyhocks.) I’m sort of proud of being a good photographer, but the photos are more from an excellent camera as well as the instinctual sense of artistry I was born with.

But being proud (or not proud) simply for of sake of pride? I don’t understand that. But then, I did say I was old-fashioned. As old fashioned as a hollyhock, actually.