Free Fall

Nearly two months after the date, remnants still showcase the many events that marked the 250^th birthday of the United States of America. Banners still wave at the tops of telephone poles, stickers still stick to the backs of pick-up trucks, and the Trump administration continues to host never-done-before events near the White House grounds.

The 250^th celebration of the United States as we know it came and went without any fanfare for my family or for me. It was a hot weekend, with a heat advisory in effect until 8 pm on the holiday. There was a parade in Sturbridge that was adequately advertised on the flashing police department roadside signage for several weeks before the event. It might have been written about in the local paper. I have fallen behind on my reading, and most of those papers go into the recycling bin after only a cursory glance at the article titles. I saw a weekly mention of a project by third graders at Burgess Elementary School, but I don't recall an article about the parade. I am not saying it wasn’t in there, only that it didn’t jump out at me. The parade, held exactly one week before the big holiday, only became a reality to me through a group text with friends. Two were in attendance.

I don’t hate The 4^th of July. I also can’t say I love The 4^th of July. I recognize it as the ironic beginning and end of summer. When my kids were all still in school, the 4^th was the unofficial start of summer, especially when school got out late because of snow days. In the years when we had a vacation planned, the 4^th also felt like the beginning, setting off a series of hot, sunny days that were counted down until the day to pack the car. In the years with no vacation planned, the holiday felt like a mild taunt. It marked summer activities, barbecues, and revelry. It meant beach trips, getting together with friends, late nights on the patio, and swimming in the pool. (Or floating for me.) And as the sun set and the boom of fireworks could be felt on all sides of the house, with the occasional spark somewhere off in the sky, it also signaled the end of summer. It was “here,” but if you weren’t careful and made plans to actually get out and do any of the summer things you thought you would do when the air was cold and frosty three months earlier, you were going to miss summer. It would be over, laments filling your head, and you’d plan for next year to be better.

I have only seen fireworks on the 4^th of July maybe ten times in my whole life! The hassle of driving somewhere, parking, walking to where you could see them, and setting up a blanket or standing for the designated time has usually beaten out my desire to mark the holiday in that explosive way.

And then there is the actual meaning of the holiday to contend with:  Freedom. Independence.

Whose freedom and independence?

“Not mine,” my friend Dwayne told me in college. As a Black man, he was not inclined to celebrate a holiday that earmarked a time in history when our people were not free. 250 years later, there are too many facts, situations, events, and deaths that conclude our freedom has not yet been fully gained.

And yet, I am also aware that the very day and its meaning are not lost as a concept or an actual precipitation of those rights for all men and women. Have we come a phenomenally long way since 1776? Yes. As a country, are we still far from the equality that most of us equate to freedom? Many more Brown people believe than white people would say:   Absolutely. Do we need to continue working hard to bring about a universal celebration of freedom and independence? YES.

So, the dominoes must fall. In a long domino run, there is a trigger, a first step, that sets the fall in motion. There is anticipation and excitement as the run flows. It creates an energy that builds and consumes all who watch its progress.

Every step, leap, change, and tragedy is another domino. Sometimes a domino is placed back up in its standing position, blocking the domino run's progress. And so again, the toppling of dominoes begins.

For People of Color in the United States, July 4^th understandably may not hold the honor, pride, and gratitude that it does for many white people. I am not against celebrating the day because I see it as a domino in our history. We couldn’t be here today without that first domino falling. I could not be sitting here today, writing this, if not for that domino. I am a woman of color. I can vote. I own property. I can run for public office. I pay taxes. All because dominoes fell.

Next year, instead of wondering if I’ll see fireworks, maybe I’ll set up a domino line in my home, and have fun with the analogy, letting the domino effect play out visually. There is extraordinary hope built into the tension of the precarious and precise placement of each tile. It is delightful to watch. It is a belief in allegiance. It is honorable to work towards.

So, we work. We stay committed. We celebrate when we achieve.

I am confident that the United States of America can continue its history of toppling dominoes…One century, one decade, one year, one month, one week, one day, one moment, at a time.