What exactly are we celebrating?

Every year around this time, I find myself asking the same question:

What does it mean to celebrate the Fourth of July as a Black person in America today?

And honestly…I still don’t have a simple answer.

As the holiday gets closer, we’re bombarded with advertisements telling us to buy the burgers, grab the sparklers, stock up on red, white, and blue everything, and head to the nearest barbecue. Don’t get me wrong—I love a good cookout. But somewhere between the fireworks and the food, I have to stop and ask…

What exactly are we celebrating?

The 4th of July commemorates the adoption of the Declaration of Independence in 1776, when the thirteen colonies declared themselves free from British rule. It’s often celebrated as America’s birthday and a symbol of freedom.

But freedom for whom?

Certainly not for the enslaved Africans whose labor built much of this country.

Certainly not for Indigenous communities who continued to lose their land, their lives, and their cultures.

Certainly not for immigrants who have long struggled to find safety, belonging, and equal opportunity.

For many Black and Brown people, July 4th has always carried an uncomfortable contradiction. While America celebrated liberty, millions of people were denied the very freedoms the Declaration claimed were “self-evident.”

That’s why abolitionist Frederick Douglass famously asked in 1852, “What, to the Slave, is the Fourth of July?” His answer was clear: the celebration exposed the hypocrisy of a nation proclaiming freedom while continuing to oppress millions.

And as I always say… Let’s be completely honest… So much of that hypocrisy still feels familiar.

Today, we’re living through a time when voting rights continue to be challenged, diversity initiatives are under attack, immigrant communities live in fear, LGBTQ+ rights are constantly debated as if our humanity is up for public comment, and hard-fought civil rights protections feel increasingly fragile.

So yes… I struggle with this holiday. When I think about what my family and I are going to do, I’m thinking about finding a nice fireworks show, maybe going to the county fair and of course, figuring out what we’re going to do for dinner! 

Because priorities! And because joy matters.

But am I sitting in overwhelming pride because I’m an American?

Not exactly… Am I feeling completely represented by a government that seems determined to dismantle programs, institutions, and protections that have helped so many communities survive?

Absolutely not.

That’s the conundrum. I can love all of my communities without loving everything this country is doing.

I can appreciate the ideals America claims to stand for while recognizing that we’ve never fully lived up to them.

I most definitely celebrate the resilience of my people more than I celebrate the mythology we’ve been taught about this nation.

Those things can exist at the same time.

What does make me proud are the people who continue to show up every single day.

The organizers.

The educators.

The parents raising socially conscious children.

The neighbors checking on one another.

The advocates speaking Truth to Power.

The everyday folks who use whatever privilege, influence, resources, or platform they have to make life a little more just for someone else.

That’s worth celebrating. And let’s be clear—we absolutely deserve joy.

This country will stress you out before you’ve even had your morning coffee. Between the headlines, the political chaos, and the constant attacks on marginalized communities, joy isn’t a luxury. It’s a survival strategy.

So go enjoy the barbecue and watch the fireworks.

Laugh with your family and dance a little.

Eat the dessert. Have seconds… Maybe thirds. (No judgment here).

But also stay reality-based.

Recognize the difference between the America we were promised and the America many people are still fighting to experience.

Celebrate your Community.

Celebrate Resilience.

Celebrate Resistance.

Celebrate Hope.

And maybe someday we’ll celebrate a 4th of July where freedom isn’t something that depends on your race, your ZIP code, your immigration status, your gender identity, or who you love.

Now that’s a holiday I’d proudly wave a flag for.