One of my classes this semester began with the professor asking the class to define two words: “race” and “ethnicity.” Although my mind automatically jumped to a very typical categorization (race as a color and ethnicity as a nationality), the class soon proved that the definitions are far broader than the semantic opposites that are black and white.

For instance, India and Pakistan are in Asia, but it’s unusual to hear anyone there referring to their peoples as Asian, even though such a designation would be correct. Hispanics were considered a subcategory of Whites only 20 years ago (and Latinos didn’t even exist). “Jewish” can be considered an ethnicity as surely as French or Peruvian, but its connotations are automatically and exclusively relegated to religion.

The question of what constitutes race and ethnicity is interesting, but even more so is the question of why we, as Americans, are so interested in them. “What are you?” is common upon meeting someone new, whatever the color of your skin. Everybody wants to know everybody else’s background, but what difference does it make when trying to decide if that person will make a good friend or reliable colleague? There’s a reason you cannot inquire about race or ethnicity in interviews: it’s entirely irrelevant. Knowing only helps us judge the accuracy of stereotypes.

There’s nothing wrong with simply being “American,” as anyone who was born here can legitimately claim to be (although, if you’re embarrassed to admit this under Bush’s reign, it’s completely understandable). When traveling abroad, no one cares if you’re Filipino-American or Mexican-American or Chinese-American. They don’t ask you (at least not within five minutes of meeting you) if your ancestors were from Holland or Russia.

To most foreigners, “American” seems to say it all. So why don’t Americans feel as satisfied with the nationality of their homeland alone?

For many people, America is not considered their homeland. African-Americans (slave-descended) and many European-Americans seem to have had their roots rubbed out enough to be considered a part of the main American population alongside Native Americans. Most families can still recall which generation came to America and the country they came from, causing them to consider that country their true background, despite the fact that America had given them opportunity, education and safety to make the distinction.

I don’t consider a loyalty to another country disrespectful to America, but it does threaten us as a united nation. Individuality is important, but foreign national identity and the continuation of ritual and custom from each country promotes the separation of a people who need more than ever to band together. Grudges of other countries can make their way over to a new one.

Stop caring about race and ethnicity. Or at least stop asking about it. Like it or not, New Yorkers, Californians, Southerners and Midwesterners are all part of the same country and share a present, even if we don’t share a past. We need to start seeing ourselves the same way the rest of the world does: as one happy nation in every others’ business.