flashback to other days like this

Let America Be America Again
4th July 2004

There are fireworks going on outside my window, but I am sitting inside nursing a broken heart.
Tonight, the Fourth of July, Independence Day, I did something I do every year: I reread the Declaration of Independence. Some of you may remember it from high school. I’m young; high school was only four years ago. I read it not so very carefully, then; I admit that, most years, I skip the first paragraph, read the bit about self-evident truths, and skim the rest.
This year it seemed new to me, fresh. I’ve always assumed that I got the gist of it, and that its time, while important, was done—but the offenses laid out by Thomas Jefferson have not gone away, nor is the battle fought by the founders of this nation over. Once upon a time, the idea that people ought to be allowed to have a say in their government mattered enough to die for, to risk livelihood and reputation for, to give up everything for.
Once upon a time, this document mattered more than anything to a small, determined group of people. It mattered that their ruler was removing the authority of judges to make legal decisions and silencing legislators who disagreed with him. It mattered that some citizens had more rights than others, that the most powerful people in government were ignoring the rule of law, that the poor were taxed to feed the rich. It mattered that the military and the enforcers of law were being used as tools against their own people, and were not prosecuted for crimes of violence they committed; it mattered that many of them were conscripted to bear arms against their will. It mattered that citizens were denied trial by jury and were incarcerated overseas on unproved grounds. And it mattered that in all their efforts to air these grievances, they were only laughed off and called agitators and traitors. It mattered enough to give everything for—and many among the coalition who signed the Declaration had everything to lose.
Tonight I went downtown, the Declaration of Independence in hand. I found an open spot in an amphitheater at the waterfront, where people were gathered in droves to watch the fireworks to be launched in an hour. “It’s Independence Day,” I said. “Do any of you folks mind if I read the Declaration of Independence?” Nobody paying attention seemed to object, and one man leaned forward to call out, “Today? Of course not.” So I cleared my throat and started reading.
That was when one woman in the front row shouted for me to go pray in my closet at home—she didn’t even recognize the words “Life, Liberty and the pursuit of Happiness,” and, like many others, assumed that I was a street-preacher. People in the crowd actually laughed as I called out that “all men are created equal,” groaning in disbelief that the outdated words should be uttered loud enough to hear while they were having a good time. Parents directed their children to set off fireworks at me, and as my voice became hoarse from the gunpowder smoke, they laughed. Folks with nothing better to do than stand in line for the Blues Festival mocked the Declaration of Independence, not one word more or less, and continued to shoot off firecrackers and smoke bombs at my feet.
I finished it, every word, and then said simply: “This is what today’s about. Please remember to vote in November.” With that, I left, shaking with shame.
When did the Fourth of July stop being Independence Day? When did this become a country where we count it a victory if more than half the populace votes? We have a president who proudly claims that he doesn’t read the news and an Attorney General who declares before the Senate that he feels his personal opinion supersedes the law of the land and the Constitution. When our own soldiers are caught torturing, raping, and killing other human beings in a prison where, according to the Red Cross, as many as 90% of the inmates were mistakenly arrested, some of us shake our heads and say it was no big thing—and besides, they must have deserved it. At the same time, the brave men and women dying on the frontline have their combat pay cut and their tours of duty extended without their consultation. International reporters are chastised for asking questions at press conferences that are not pre-approved; Americans who choose to disagree are shunted off to ‘free speech zones’ where the news and the President can’t see them. America is a free speech zone. We have a Bill of Rights for that.
This has happened to our country. Worse has happened in our country, and is happening as we speak. Ignoring the news and lending the government unquestioning support is called patriotism, while participation in our democracy by respectful disagreement or, God forbid, calling for change, is called treason. Sometime while we weren’t looking, the Land of the Free became a place where you can be locked up in Cuba without being charged, just for looking suspicious. The Home of the Brave has been cowering before Homeland Security.
The Fourth of July is about time together with your family and friends, good food and celebration—I look forward to it, every year—but it is far more than that. Independence Day rings hollow in a land where people seem not to care why we declared our independence in the first place. This country is not a simple place to be. It is, however, our country, and what it means is slipping out between our fingers as we fail to engage, passionately, with what it means to live in a nation whose government is supposed to be by, for, and of the people. You may be a Democrat or Republican, Independent or Green or Socialist or Libertarian; you may be conservative or liberal. You may love the current administration or hate it, be a soldier or a peacenik or both, rich or poor, young or old. These things only matter if you have a voice. They are nothing if we all are not allowed to speak and, ultimately, participate in democracy. Once upon a time, this mattered enough to live and die for.
Freedom is dangerous. Freedom is a revolutionary thing. Our founders knew that it is not comfortable or easy, and that it demands a commitment of responsibility from all who wish to participate in it. From the soldier who sacrifices his or her life on the battlefield to the schoolteacher who brings up our children, we are all required to pay the price of vigilance and dedication in order to keep the rights and freedoms guaranteed us by our Constitution and our consciences. This is a day for the pursuit of happiness, certainly, but it is, most importantly, a time to remember how revolutionary our freedom still is. I love this country. Tonight, at the waterfront, it let me down.
Fellow Americans, the Star-Spangled Banner means nothing if all we can remember of it is the rockets’ red glare.