For most of the last several years, we’ve hosted a Fourth of July party. It has long been one of my favorite holidays for the summer traditions and nostalgia it evokes. This year, COVID and circumstance demanded a party-less day, but recent happenings and energies have also forced my reckoning with a holiday that I’ve long celebrated with some unease.

I’ve always had trouble blindly singing America’s anthems with the masses – the same way I, as a child and teenager, could never bring myself to recite benedictions during church. It seemed a bit indulgent, perhaps, and, personally, like participation would be representing my buy-in to a system or allegiance I didn’t fully understand or deserve. I didn’t make any sacrifices, after all; I just inherently reap the rewards of our nation’s benefits (thanks to the sacrifices of others) simply by luck of the draw – my place of birth, the color of my skin. What place do I really have to be a part of that?

I’ve brushed off this unrest and chosen to celebrate the day as a symbol of many things I love deeply – friends, family, and summer (the food, the sun, the activities, and the childhood sense of freedom it brings). But with this reckoning, I have begun to put words to the discomfort I’ve felt simmering below the surface of this holiday, that which I’ve never actually spent much time pondering or rationalizing.

As Americans, we are trained from birth to value the freedoms on which this nation was founded. We wave our liberties proudly, often stubbornly, valuing the individuality we are permitted, frequently at the expense of the community. Those of us privileged to do so enjoy freedom through an idealized lens, without evidence of that freedom’s limits. We live those founding values with confidence, as guarantees for which we should be grateful, rather than rights we must still fight to be granted.

The more listening and learning I do – the more digging into history and systems and experiences – the more frustrated and, frankly, downright indignant, I get at the idea of celebrating a freedom that still leaves so many wanting. To celebrate “Independence Day” without question, to me, feels conclusive – that we have gotten what we wanted, that we are done here, and everything is fine.

And everything is not fine. Our nation and its history is full of contradictions that have denied many the “life, liberty, and pursuit of happiness” they were promised. If we are going to continue to celebrate the founding of a country that boasts “liberty and justice for all,” we cannot live as if it is and always has been that way. We must continuously evaluate how we’re doing, and we must fight for the freedoms promised all Americans, whether actually intended or not, so that all truly have a reason to celebrate.

I spent yesterday afternoon helping with voter registration at a Black Lives Matter protest organized by a group of 14-16 year old girls. If these individuals half my age can be so aware, so driven, and so action-oriented without fear, then what possible excuse could I have for remaining on the sidelines?

The Fourth of July has a new purpose for me – a reminder of the independence by which we’ve proudly defined ourselves for so long and, more importantly, an opportunity to actively fight to ensure it is guaranteed in the future for all who call this land home.