I’m Proud to Be Un-American

A New Poll Shows the Rest of the Country Hates the Golden State—And That’s a Good Thing

I’m not really American, and I couldn’t be prouder of that.

I hope you, my fellow Californians, feel the same way.

Because sometimes there’s no greater compliment than an intended insult.

This time, the backhanded praise came in the results of a Los Angeles Times survey, conducted early this year by the Canadian firm Leger, which examined how Americans feel about California.

Among the findings was that half of American adults believe our state is in decline. The survey made headlines for laying bare how much American conservatives dislike the Golden State. Two-thirds of …

by Joe Mathews | April 2, 2024

Illustration of a brown man's face sideways. One side of his face is a brown silhouette of a city skyscraper landscape, and the landscape has tree-like roots.

What Does Brown Mean?

In a World That Often Feels Black and White, I’ve Learned to Embrace My Space in the Middle

by Christopher Rivas | October 19, 2023

Zócalo is celebrating its 20th birthday this year! As part of the festivities, we’re publishing reflections and responses that revisit and reimagine some of …

Who Are the Anglo-Indians?

Our Small, Enduring Community—Invisible in Most Colonial Histories—Straddles Two Worlds

by Moira Shourie | May 4, 2023

“I thought they died out,” a woman remarked flippantly to my friend just the other day. She, like many Indians, has long believed that Anglo-Indians ceased to exist when the …

Where I Go: The Best Basketball Court in Lisbon

At Campo dos Mártires da Pátria, There’s Only One Shared Language, and Everyone Is Welcome

by Jeremy Klemin | April 14, 2022

When I arrived in Lisbon in late 2016, I was in the best basketball shape of my life. I had just finished a master’s degree in Scotland, where I had …

Where I Go: Growing up Under the Rim

Like Any Proper Southern California Basketball Story, Mine Begins With Magic Johnson

by Ky-Phong Tran | October 2, 2020

Like any proper Southern California basketball story, this one starts with Magic Johnson.

It’s 1986, and I’m 11 years old, living on the north side of Long Beach. My TV …

A Poem That Would Not Let Me Go

When I Found Multiple Truths in the Work of 18th-Century Poet Phillis Wheatley, She Became Some Kind of Kin

by Drea Brown | May 31, 2020

I do not remember how old I was when my grandmother showed me Phillis Wheatley’s poetry. Ten, maybe 11? Young enough that my hands were open to everything she put …

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