I didn’t have a real sense of the 4th (parades as a kid were cool), until I lived in a foreign country during our nation’s bicentennial. It was tough to be away from the USA at such an important historic moment and it gave me a reality check. I tear up when the national anthem is played, I think about the soldiers who gave their lives for what I am able to enjoy today (my freedoms, such as they are—limited because I am gay), I think about the courage it took for people to leave their country and come to a totally new place without any real sense of what that would entail.
I think about the courage to face the wilderness and build something new (perhaps just for one’s own family). I stop to think what democracy means, particularly as a woman who is able to seek an education without concern for being made to wear a veil. I live in a place where I will not be stoned for being female and without power. I live in a place where I get to vote (and do so every single time the opportunity is available). I stop to remember how we all came together after 9–11.
I think about the heroes (large and small) who decided that one person really could make a difference in a place where people are free. I think about the good and bad times in our nation’s history and the distance we have moved from the enslavement of others. I think of the genius it took to conceive of the very ideals that made “America” possible. I am grateful that I can openly criticize the things with which I don’t always agree. I think about what my life would be like if I lived in a foreign county in which I didn’t have what I am able to have here.
I stop, I cry, I pray, I remember, I feel gratitude. I am an American. That simple statement says so much to so many people (those before me and those who will follow). I think about the immigrants who want to make their station better as my immigrant forebears so desired.
Today, for me, it is more than a burgers on a grill or some fat lady wearing what she thinks is a patriotic t-shirt. I will fly my flag. I am an American . . .