Independence Day. Genuinely my least favorite day of the year. Every year I find myself in a weird headspace; I love my people, but I am far from proud of my country. We Americans are stubborn, but hard-working. Ruggedly individualist, while still craving community. I guess the holiday does provide space for that. Americans are good people. We all just want connection, work, and meaning.
But the country? The country is fucked.
Unwalkable urban planning,
For-profit healthcare,
A dead education network.
A lifted Ford F-350 decorated in red, white and blue barrels down streets without sidewalks. The driver is staring at his iPhone 17 Pro Max.
Military drones overseas,
Oil barons and Billionaires,
The digital panopticon.
The screeching roar of F-35 Jets can be heard overhead. Anywhere else in the world, the sound would be followed by bombs, rubble and death. "This is the sound of freedom," the country proclaims. Our propaganda is fierce.
Stagnant wages,
Record heatwaves,
The epstein files.
And I'm supposed to celebrate? Our economic achievements were only possible through war and coups in the global South. Our endless growth is killing us. We are all exhausted.
Anti-homeless architecture,
Stolen land,
Fracking in national parks.
I may be exhausted, but I'm an American, damnit. And I still believe in fighting for a common good. I will celebrate when we are liberated from corporate oligarchy. I will cheer when our taxes pay for schools instead of hellfire missiles. I will be proud when my fellow Americans have the legal guarantee of dignity—healthcare, internet, housing, a living wage. I have hope that these are possible.