What This White Woman of Privilege is Doing on the Fourth of July
People keep asking questions about my plans for the 4th of July. I normally take a breath, and change the subject by asking them what they are doing because the truth is I don’t have much desire to get out an celebrate our country this year. It seems so unpatriotic to say that out loud, and up to this point I haven’t been able to formulate my thoughts, and therefore I dodge the conversation.
Here is my list of things I will be doing this 4th of July:
· Read the Declaration of Independence with my family
· Read the Constitution, Bill of Rights and the Amendments to the Constitution
· Read What to the Slave Is the Fourth of July, a speech given by Fredrick Douglas on July, 5 1852
· Listen to Hamilton assuming Amazon hasn’t added that to the list of music I love that requires Amazon Prime Music Unlimited (which I refuse to pay for out of principal that I can’t give Jeff Bezos more money).
· Eat Rice Krispie treats, think fondly of memories with my mom, and reminisce about my innocence in this country
Something I will not do is fly a flag at my home. To me, the symbol of our American flag has been hijacked. Too often today I see the flag waved by those who stand for hate, bigotry and fear mongering. The flag is waved next to signs that the Covid Vaccine is a hoax. Trump supporters wear American Flags from head to toe in support of lies and hate. I see giant American flags waving behind raised pickup trucks and imagine 60 years ago it would have been a confederate flag instead of the Stars and Stripes. When the American Flag waves with a thin blue I don’t see patriotism, instead I see fear and hate. Intended or not by the supporter of that particular flag, racist groups have apprehended it and wave it as they tout their hateful agendas. That flag no longer promotes symbols of freedom and hope, instead when I see it, I feel fear and disgust.
The recent moves by the Supreme Court as well as the findings of the January 6th Special Committee further squash my desires to celebrate my country with hotdogs and fireworks. I feel scared for my rights as a woman and for my LGBTQ family. I feel fear for the fate of our planet and I am disheartened and downright scared for the country that is being created for my child and all the children that I teach. I am confounded by the way our country views guns and abortion. We place gun rights over the safety of human life, but have no problem forcing women to carry out unwanted pregnancy. Is the end of abortion a way to restock the country with new children like we restock a stream with trout? Ya, that’s a little bleak, but can you see why parties and parades just seem wrong to me today? These recent decisions make me scream with rage, confusion and fear. How is this a country worth celebrating?
With those thoughts swirling in my mind and heart I must find my way out. I do it with gratitude. I am grateful to live in the United States of America and, while I am not in the mood to celebrate the country with a party, I do have gratitude toward the country that I have spent my entire life in. I am grateful to be able to write this without fear of government oppression. I am grateful for the home I live in and the abundance of food, infrastructure and other resources that are at my disposal. I am grateful for the fundamental rights that this country provides, despite the feelings that those rights are in jeopardy.
With this gratitude thought, I cannot help but notice my white privilege in the same breath. I cannot help but wonder if my black and brown neighbors feel the same gratitude on this Day of Independence. And so, for me the thoughts on independence and freedom seems wrapped up in privilege. My privilege to own a home, accumulate wealth for retirement, feel safe walking down my street; is that my freedom or my privilege?
So today I will sit with my gratitude for all the gifts myself and my family have been bestowed. I will find gratitude for that which my country and my privilege bestow upon me. I will educate myself; I will learn and I will help my child understand. I will work to be my best self. I will work to acknowledge my privilege and see where I can be better to my community.
And finally, I will make a batch of Rice Krispie treats and with each bite of crackly, marshmallow-y, chewy goodness I’ll think back on the Independence Days of my childhood. Of melting butter and marshmallows and watching my mom pour the cereal into the pot. Begging to nibble the crunchy, gooey remains off the spoon, and relishing in the satisfaction of the first bite with my mom. For as long as I can remember my mom and I make Rice Krispie treats on the Fourth of July. It’s our family thing. I always helped and now my daughter helps me. For that, I am grateful.
So. Here's to a day of learning, gratitude, and Rice Krispie treats.
