The Revolutionary Macaroni

Some words travel well and tell a slice of history in their migration. Take macaroni, for instance.

Yankee Doodle went to town / riding on a pony / stuck a feather in his cap / and called it macaroni.

We sing this song signifying patriotism. Yet I doubt many Americans have the slightest idea what they are singing about. Hint: it has nothing to do with pasta.

In the early 1700s, a macaroni was a word the Brits used to describe a well-traveled, sophisticated man. It then morphed into an effeminate male, foppish in his fashion.

By the time of the French & Indian war, circa 1760, the macaroni flipped again. It suddenly became a term of ridicule designating a country bumpkin trying too hard to look like a gentleman, thus meant to mock the American colonist.

In fact, it was sung in derision for the lowly rebel who thought he could stick a feather in his cap and call himself a dandy, a macaroni. Note that he rode a pony, not a horse. A doodle is a simpleton. And what, I hear you ask, is a Yankee?

The original Dutch settlers were the subjects of derision again by those nasty invaders from England. The Englishmen (John Bull) called those from the Netherlands, (Jan Kees), hence Yankees. Seems like everybody had names for the other. So much for the nonsense of national identity.

By the time of the Revolutionary War, the entire song was stood on its head. The tune of King George’s bad guys was adapted by us, the good guys, and suddenly it became a symbol of patriotism. When the Red Coats surrendered at Yorktown, Washington had his army band strike up a rendition of Yankee Doodle.

It was as if the entire war was fought over who owned Yankee Doodle. Or, as I’d like to think, it was a triumph of the common man. My other takeaway is how gusts of new consciousness move language and carry the seeds for revolutionary change. Keep your eyes on the MAGA macaroni.