There is a story about German Americans that does not get told often enough. It is not a story of people who left their homeland and assimilated into something new. It is a story of people who carried an entire culture across an ocean, planted it in new soil, and refused to let it disappear.
German Americans are not former Germans. We are Germans who happen to live in America.
And that distinction matters.
The Numbers Behind the Story
German Americans are the largest ethnic group in the United States. Not Irish. Not Italian. Not English. German. Over 40 million Americans claim German heritage — a number larger than the population of many European countries. We built cities, farmed the heartland, shaped the Midwest, and left fingerprints on American food, music, language, and law that most people do not even recognize as German anymore because the influence runs so deep.
We were among the first Europeans to arrive in significant numbers. We were among the first to push into the interior of the continent. We built communities from Pennsylvania to Texas to Wisconsin that were, in every meaningful sense, German communities on American ground. German-language newspapers, German churches, German schools, German social clubs, German beer halls — all thriving, all proud, all deeply rooted in the homeland thousands of miles away.
We were not visitors. We were not temporary. We were pioneers — and we brought Germany with us.
What It Means to Be a Cultural Ambassador
When Germans came to America, they did not come to become something else. They came to build something new while holding tightly to something old. They understood, even if they never put it in these words, that culture is not a fixed address. Culture is what you carry in your hands, in your recipes, in your songs, in the way you mark the turning of a season with celebration.
To be a German American is to be a cultural ambassador. Not in a formal, diplomatic sense — but in the most personal and powerful sense. Every time we celebrate Oktoberfest, we are not putting on a costume or performing nostalgia. We are doing something that Germans have done for over two centuries: gathering together, raising a glass, honoring the harvest, and affirming who we are.
We are saying: this is where we come from, and we are proud of it.
That is not a small thing. In a country that has spent generations encouraging immigrants to blend in and let go, holding on to your heritage is an act of cultural courage. German Americans who celebrate their traditions are not living in the past. They are doing the hard work of keeping something alive that the world is richer for having.
Why Oktoberfest Matters — Especially Here
Oktoberfest in Germany is a celebration of Bavarian culture, of the harvest season, of community and joy. It began in 1810 as a royal wedding celebration and grew into one of the most recognized cultural events on earth. It has been celebrated in Munich for over 200 years through wars, economic collapse, and everything in between. It survives because the people who carry it refuse to let it go.
Oktoberfest in America is the same act of refusal.
When German Americans organize Oktoberfest celebrations — when we put on the Tracht, pour the beer, play the music, and gather in the same spirit as our ancestors did — we are doing exactly what cultural ambassadors do. We are keeping the flame burning. We are making sure that the heritage does not end with the generation that crossed the ocean. We are passing something forward.
And we are inviting others in. That is important too. Oktoberfest in America has always been open — open to neighbors, to friends, to curious people who want to understand what German culture actually is beyond the stereotypes. Every person who comes to an American Oktoberfest and experiences the warmth, the food, the music, and the community for the first time is having an encounter with something genuine. That is the work of a cultural ambassador.
We Never Stopped Being German
Here is the truth that sits at the heart of all of this: the Germans who came to America never stopped being German. Not really. The language faded for many families — particularly after two world wars made German heritage something to hide rather than celebrate. The visible markers became less obvious. But the values, the work ethic, the love of community, the instinct to mark life's important moments with food and music and togetherness — those did not go anywhere.
They went underground for a while. And now they are coming back.
German Americans are reclaiming their identity with a boldness and pride that feels entirely right for this moment. Young people with German last names are learning where those names come from. Families are reviving traditions that skipped a generation or two. People who have never set foot in Bavaria are wearing Tracht and feeling, correctly, that it belongs to them.
Because it does.
If your great-great-grandmother made Sauerbraten in her kitchen in Cincinnati or St. Louis or Milwaukee, that recipe is yours. If your ancestors helped build the beer halls of the Midwest, that culture is yours. If your family name came across the Atlantic in a ship's manifest from Hamburg or Bremen, that heritage is yours — and it does not expire.
What We Owe the Next Generation
German Americans who celebrate their traditions are not doing it for themselves alone. They are doing it for the children who will grow up knowing where they come from. For the grandchildren who will one day stand in Munich and feel something familiar, something that reaches back across generations. For the community that is strengthened every time people gather around a shared identity and say: this is who we are.
That is the work. That is why it matters. That is why Oktoberfest — and every tradition we keep alive — is not a party. It is a promise.
We came to America as pioneers. We built something lasting on new ground. We carried our culture with us, tended it, and passed it forward. We never left Germany. We just brought it with us.
And we are still here.
simplygermanusa.com — celebrating German American heritage, tradition, and identity.