Reflections on the 4th of July
"You may rejoice, I must mourn.”
When I was young I loved the 4th of July. After all, what’s not to love?
The 4th of July was the rare time of year where I was guaranteed expertly charred hamburgers and hotdogs, and the deliciousness of a perfectly balanced Southern potato salad (which I miss). The 4th meant staying up late with family and loved ones, and inhaling stale gray smoke from carrying too many sparklers at once or sitting directly under the line of fire of a row of rockets and roman candles. For that day, and often that entire weekend, it was almost as if the entire world paused to celebrate the birth of a great nation.
The 4th hasn’t felt the same for me for a while now.
I’ve been a New York City resident for many years now and while there’s still opportunity to celebrate the 4th in different ways (East River fireworks? Picnic in the park? Rooftop grilling?) it’s never quite felt the same here. Personally, I find the Southern backyard cookout to be unmatched in vibes and flavor. But more importantly, as I’ve gotten older it’s become increasingly difficult to reconcile celebrating the birth of America when the country hasn’t yet lived up to its deepest ideals in full.
We’re now in an era in which many long-established civil liberties are up for debate or have already been revoked by legislation or executive order. Immigrants and citizens alike are subjected to potential deportation. That’s not to mention the continuous marginalization of other groups (like trans and queer folks).
As a Black person I’ve had a nagging ick about celebrating the 4th of July when it become more than hot dogs and sparklers for me. In our present era, those concerns are even more foundational and relentlessly annoying to my spirit.
A few years ago I began a practice of reading Frederick Douglass’ incomparable speech, which is often referred to as: “What to the Slave is the Fourth of July?” It’s served as a meditation and sanctuary in a truth that 4th of July celebrations beg me to forget.
At Corinthian Hall in Rochester, New York on July 5, 1852 the abolitionist delivered this speech highlighting the disparity between our founders’ ideals for the United States and the reality that many Black folks were still then enslaved at the time. His speech reminds me of those unfulfilled promises, and the burdens some of us are made to carry simply because we are not seen as deserving of our full humanity.
If the 4th of July in 1776 represented freedom from the harm and violence of another imperial entity, can it also become for us now, and in the future, a release from the nostalgic impulse to look to the past with reverence, and instead, look forward to all the ways in which we must work to embody the words and ideals our ancestors have given blood, sweat, and tears for?
I certainly hope so.
Five years ago, in the wake of George Floyd’s murder, and other instances of racist violence, NPR invited Douglass’ descendants to read a portion of his historic speech. This clip still moves me and I hope that it helps you reflect on your relationship with the day, and the complex nature of what we, in America, call Independence Day.
If you’d like to read the full text of Frederick Douglass’ speech from 1852 you can read it by clicking the button below.