So, 250 years

Tomorrow is the 4th of July. And, as I’m sure you’ve noticed, it’s America’s 250th birthday. And our girl is looking rough. Almost as rough as the front lawn of the White House right now.

You already know that I’m a pretty liberal person. I hate the current administration and just about everything it’s doing. I’m a bisexual woman and witch. To be completly frank, I think we’re just a short goosestep away from facisim. And if you feel like I feel, celebrating Independence Day probably feels gross right now.

At least, that’s how I was feeling. But, here’s the problem with that. I am an American. I carry the New England ocean in my eyes and the Appalachian dirt under my fingernails. I am an American. And I am proud to be an American.

Not in a ‘Murica, love it or leave it sort of way. More in a ‘We The People’ sort of way.

I am proud of us. Our people, and our history of civil disobedience.

I grew up hearing stories about Vietnam protests. I was a kid when I first learned of the Kent State shootings. I was baffled by the thought of college students being murdered for protesting. Weren’t we supposed to protest? Wasn’t that part of what it was to be American?

It is, in fact, part of what makes us American. And I’m damn proud of that.

I’m proud of the brave protestors at the Stonewall riots. I’m proud of the people in Minnesota who protested against ICE and protected their neighbors. I’m proud of every single person on college campuses protesting the ongoing war in Gaza.

We are protestors. We always have been. We started this country by throwing tea in a harbour. And that patriot spirit lives on in us.

I am proud most of all of our writers. We have produced some of the most amazing writers the world has ever known. Some have been protestors as well, and some have just written honestly and deeply about how they’ve seen the world. Maya Angelou, Nellie Bly, Shirley Jackson, Lois Lowrey. Charles Ortleb, who founded The New York Native. Modern authors like Tananarive Due who remind us of our past. Authors like Upton Sinclair and Thomas Bell, who wrote about the horrors around them unflinchingly. There are a thousand more I’m forgetting, a thousand more I don’t even know about, and a thousand after that who are just getting started.

We can’t really love something unless we see it. All of it. I am well aware of our shared history. Of all the blood spilled on this land. I live on land originally inhabited by the native Lanape tribe. I live on land where there were bloody battles and Residential Schools. I live where people have been worked to death to rip coal from the ground.

But I also live where people have fought for freedom. Where we’ve aspired to mighty ideals that we haven’t yet reached. Where we stand up for our neighbors. And I’m proud to be an American. I am proud of my fellow Americans, not some false dream of pink houses.

So if you’re like me, and you’ve had a hard time feeling patriotic, here’s what I suggest. Do something patriotic. Stand up for your neighbors. Stand up for the immigrant, the LGBTQ+ community. Protect people of color. Protest when you can, however you can. Find joy in the little moments, even in these dark days. Visit your library, take food to your food bank. Shop small. And vote! For God’s sake, vote.

Happy Independence Day. Let Freedom live in your heart and show in your actions. Let’s work together to build a country we can all be proud of. Hopefully it won’t take us another 250 years to do it.