What the 4th of July means to me.

Originally posted on Tuesday, July 03, 2007

What the 4th of July means to me?
Current mood: cranky
Category: Life

Not a damn thing.

Throughout my grade school and high school years I was in marching bands so I inevitably had to participate in 4th of July parades. Try as I might to muster up some semblance of patriotism, my only excitement pertaining to the holiday was over the ribs, potato salad, spaghetti, and myriad of desserts that I knew I'd be consuming later that day at my grandmother's house. I watched the white men, women, and children standing and cheering along the parade route with thinly veiled disdain and disgust.

After grandma got sick, 4th of July evenings were spent at a Will Smith movie and capped off with sausage deep dish pizza at Lou Malnati's.

For a couple of years, my mother purchased my sister and me t-shirts from Old Navy with flags on the front. Aside from the excitement that is induced by new clothes, the stars and stripes that my apparel donned meant nothing to me.

I'm sure you all know why.

Even at an early age, I felt a pain in my stomach every time I heard a white American talk about how proud the 4th made them feel. And when I heard Black folks talk about it...well...I vomited a little in my mouth.

Why the f*ck should I care about the so-called "Independence" of this country when my people were still enslaved? And not just enslaved, but tortured, beaten, raped, maimed, mutilated, and emotionally abused.

The following thought came to me last night as I watched the show "History Detectives" during which a woman marveled at the hope that a piece of currency distributed during the Revolutionary War gave her:

What about an enslaved mother whose children were ripped from her arms?

Now, of course, we've all thought about those women before. We've all thought about the people who had their families ripped apart during slavery. But then another thought that had never donned on me came into my line of perception.

What about those women who lived to see the day of Emancipation and spent the rest of their entire lives searching for their children?

Can you imagine freedom without the ones you love? Is it really freedom at all?

The joy that those women should've felt upon being released from their mortal chains was never given a chance to fully manifest itself because a piece of them was missing...never to be found again.

What about watching your baby starve while you were forced to let Ms. Anne's little brat suck on your breast?

What about watching your daughters, sisters, mothers, and wives be forcefully raped by Massah while you, a man, had to sit by, helpless, and watch?

And all of this happened…while ..America was free.

And let's not get into all of the subsequent celebrations of America's independence that occurred after our Emancipation.

What about having to slave over hot stoves and ovens to cook Ms. Anne's huge celebratory dinner before you went home to your family?

What about not being allowed to participate in 4th of July parades because the Klan was marching down Main Street?

What about sitting in barracks and trenches in a foreign country on the 4th of July with the rest of your segregated unit?

The 4th of July don't mean shit to me.

I'll admit that I'm prone to bouts of patriotism at times. I'll say the pledge. I'll sing the National Anthem. I'll scream for America at the Olympics (if there aren't any other people of African descent participating). Hell, I've even gotten defensive when non-Americans have critcized this country (mainly because I feel that every a lot of folks are so worried about what America has done that they fail to remember that their countries have done...and are still doing).

But the 4th has always been my most un-patriotic day because it reminds me so much of the hypocrisy of this country. It also reminds me of how the majority cares so little about Black folks. They have the nerve to celebrate this day, and expect us to celebrate it, with a straight face! Knowing that damn near all of the folks who signed the Declaration of Independence enslaved Africans. Knowing that Black folks were legally enslaved for damn near 100 more years after the signing. Knowing that they have, and still do, treat us like shit in this country!
Man...and I say this in the nicest way possible...and hope it is accepted in the spirit in which it was intended...

FUCK THE 4TH OF JULY!

Now excuse me, I've got to pack my belongings. We're getting off early for the holiday. (Oh, I know you didn't think I was gonna work on the 4th, did ya? You must not know bout me!)

What, to the American slave, is your 4th of July? I answer: a day that reveals to him, more than all other days in the year, the gross injustice and cruelty to which he is the constant victim. To him, your celebration is a sham; your boasted liberty, an unholy license; your national greatness, swelling vanity; your sounds of rejoicing are empty and heartless; your denunciations of tyrants, brass fronted impudence; your shouts of liberty and equality, hollow mockery; your prayers and hymns, your sermons and thanksgivings, with all your religious parade, and solemnity, are, to him, mere bombast, fraud, deception, impiety, and hypocrisy - a thin veil to cover up crimes which would disgrace a nation of savages. There is not a nation on the earth guilty of practices, more shocking and bloody, than are the people of these United States, at this very hour.

Frederick Douglas (1852)