By Bea Palmer
Are you feeling divided and perplexed about the concept of “freedom”?
Are you conflicted about celebrating a nation’s birthday, knowing that on July 4, 1777, nearly 1,000,000 individuals — Indigenous and African — were held in bondage and enslavement? Quite the opposite of “freedom.”
Do you love this country and yet wonder what happened to our American dream? Is this the “great” version they spoke about?
Whether born here, forced here, or escaped here in search of a dream of hope, many of us — citizens, immigrants, refugees, and those living in the shadows — are grappling with loving this country while knowing that freedom and safety are scarce and only affordable for those whose pockets are lined with deep green, and outlined of white.
Are you angered because you fell for the dreamy promises of making this country better again? Are you filled with guilt and shame as you read the headlines of little ones missing nutritious meals—no breakfast, no lunch, and go to bed without dinner? An elder and the sick will go without their medicine, and another cancer patient will say their goodbye without a fight.
Is it hard knowing the majority struggle to live with limited basic human needs, while the top 5 percent enjoy a bountiful table fit for a king?
Do you love this country and still find yourself overcome with sadness, fear, and righteous anger at the sight and sound of today’s explosive violence in our neighborhoods? You wonder why the blasts and booms meant for fireworks have been replaced by the explosive sounds of militant men and women pulling up in disguised SUVs and cars, dressed in hues of darkness, masked to hide their shame and the big smiles of patriotism—cruising our barrios as if they were the boulevards on a summer night. Have these realities erased our 4th of July celebrations?
Rest, my friend.
Today, celebrate the dream once held, and pause to reflect on the hope we still carry, and just like Lady Liberty, cling to the torch like a flame of hope — the hope to feel somewhat safe in our homes, to drive for groceries, or to get a slice of that apple pie.
Now you wonder if the wagging tails and rigid teeth of the alligators will rise from the hidden waters, snapping at your steps, reminding you that even freedom can be devoured.
Yes, our house feels divided. But know this: Rest on this 4th of July can be its own resistance.
Enjoy your carne asada, your tostadas, and your agua fresca. Make that mac n’ cheese, that pot of greens, and sweet potato pie. That, too, can be our resistance. Let the kids light the sparklers, enjoy the pretty lights flailing in the skies, and as they boom and crack, let out your cry — because it will be disguised.
And today, at 4:00 PM Eastern Standard Time, while the big “beautiful” bill is signed by the headmaster, eat your taco, your chicken, and sip your michelada. Let us say loudly: Aquí Estamos y No Nos Vamos.
Let us remember the spirit of collective strength we learned from our ancestors. We have survived and weathered these hurricanes and wildfires, and that resilience is deeply intertwined in our DNA.
We can shed a tear, break some sh*t, say a bad word, and feel the bitterness of pain in the taste of our tears — and still love this country.
¡Salud!
