Let Freedom Ring

For most of my life, I’ve been the sort of person who reads the Declaration of Independence and gets teary-eyed at the ideas expressed by the preamble.  I’m aware that the founders fell far short of the notions being embraced; I know very well our history of slavery and vast inequality.  Still, the words - and their promise - have rung true to me as powerful aspirations that represent what the United States can become.

My belief in the words of the Declaration have made the last few years especially difficult.  A great deal of the problem seems to lie with the Supreme Court and their 2022 decision to cast aside 50 years of precedent and declare that bodily privacy was no longer protected by the Constitution.  It’s true that the Constitution did not explicitly declare body privacy.  It was document written in the 18th century, when such a notion did not exist.  But it’s equally clear that a group of men who would not house soldiers in their private property or permit a search of their homes without sworn warrants clearly understood the notion that a home was private.  The human body is the penultimate of home.  It houses our soul; the very core of our being.  That body should not be regulated by the government with no limits; it cannot be invaded.  It took women more than 140 years to gain the right to vote and that struggle is symptomatic of all that women endure in our aspiration for equality. Last year’s invalidation of the right to bodily privacy for women, a ruling that effectively denies certain kinds of medical care to half of the nation, is clearly a decision that puts men squarely back in the driver’s seat when it comes to women’s bodies.  It’s inexcusable.  I’ve spent the last year frustrated and angry, wondering what other rights marginalized groups might lose. 

Last week provided the answer.  On Thursday, a majority of the justices of the Supreme Court struck down affirmative action, the 50 year old effort by America’s colleges to correct some of the inequities and injustices wrought by our history of racism and exclusion.  That the majority opinion used the 14th Amendment’s guarantee of equal protection under the law to do so is especially appalling.  The 14th Amendment is one of three post-Civil War Amendments to the Constitution.  The 14th made former enslaved people into American citizens due the “equal protection of the law.”  It was added to the Constitution in 1868 but for many years equal protection was merely an unfulfilled promise, as Jim Crow laws and legal, social, and political inequality continued apace.  Not until 1954’s Brown v. Board of Education ruling was equal protection under the law applied to Black school children.  That opened the door to end the most aggressive forms of de jure inequality and segregation.  But de facto inequality continued apace.  Affirmative action began to be used in the late 1960s to ensure that historically excluded groups had the opportunity to have a seat at the table of power.  It benefitted white women more than it helped people of color and was an imperfect remedy to a nation whose original sin was the protection of slavery while claiming rights to liberty and equality it would not extend to everyone.  In her dissent to the ruling which invalidated affirmative action, Justice Kentanji Brown-Jackson said it best, “With let-them-eat-care obliviousness, today, the majority pulls the ripcord and announces “colorblindness for all” by legal fiat.  But deeming race irrelevant in law does not make it so in life.”  

A day later. the majority on the Supreme Court declared that business owners could discriminate against gay customers because of the business owner’s religious views.  This ruling turns a blind eye to state or federal laws which enshrine equal protection under the law as some state governments and the federal government seek to prevent overt discrimination against gay, lesbian, or trans Americans.  Coming as it did after the rulings on the right to privacy and affirmative action, it was no surprise.  

But that doesn’t mean it’s not a sucker punch…it is, especially in the midst of so many states bent on limiting the rights of trans people to freely live their truth.  It also makes it hard for me to get emotional or teary-eyed about the 4th of July and celebrations of independence.  Until we recognize that each and every one of us are created equal and are entitled to life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness, none of us can truly be free.  That painful truth is evident every day, but especially today as we celebrate a national independence that is yet incomplete. 

July 4

I love my country with a depth that has fostered a career spent teaching about its history and politics.  I am a patriot who named her only child after the man whose words we celebrate on this 4th of July day.  

But I am no “Love my country right or wrong” patriot.  I am an “I love my country enough to right the wrongs” patriot.  This year, a year determined to teach us some very important lessons, it seems appropriate to pause and think again abut the patriot I am.

I’ve taught it so much that I know the preamble to the Declaration of Independence by heart.  I read it several times a year; I think about it often.  I teach the Declaration in terms of that preamble and I never fail to be stirred by the claim that all men are created equal and endowed with the right to life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness.  I think of the power of such a claim when it was made in 1776 and as we try to live by it now.  I teach my students that every right Americans subsequently demanded to have recognized, be it the right to be free from slavery, to vote, to marry whomever we please, was recognized in those words and was there all along.  

That’s not all that I teach because I know how often we fell short of that stirring claim; I know how often we still fall short of it.  I teach my students about both of those truths.  I teach Frederick Douglass’s words about the 4th of July.  I teach them about the racism baked into our founding and built into our firmament.

Then I remind them that we must be patriots who seek a better nation for all of us.  I remind them that all we need do is return to the words of the Declaration and let that truth guide our way.  

Independence Day

Because I study and teach American history, I’ve never had an unvarnished view of our nation.  I know the words of the Declaration of Independence and understand the history behind them.  I know the power of the promise that all men are created equal and endowed by their Creator with the right to life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness.  My heart still swells when I hear those words.  I find them so meaningful that I named my son after the man who wrote them.  

Those facts noted, my mind never forgets that from the moment those powerful words were first written down, we’ve fallen short of the promise.  

I am aware that the promise, however incomplete, has served as an inspiration for countless people, for those born here and those who came here to become Americans.  From Frederick Douglas to Harriet Tubman; from Marcus Garvey to Martin Luther King and John Lewis; from Elizabeth Cady Stanton to Susan B. Anthony, from Cesar Chavez to Barack Obama, the inspiration has been the same.  Our history is filled with brave people who sought (and seek) for a nation that could live up to the promise of the words in the Declaration.

Today is the 4th of July, a day when we celebrate our nation.  These days, it’s hard to celebrate our government.  Mr. Trump and the Republican party who run the government are on a path of which I do not approve.  Their venal and ugly racism and sexism is a threat to our shared liberty.  Right now, I am not proud to be an American.

But I am still moved by the words of the Declaration; I believe in them and still see promise in them.  And I am with the millions of Americans who want to work toward our better angels.  We are loud and we aren’t giving up.  To paraphrase Dr. King, I know that the arc of history is long and I know that it bends toward justice.  Today, as with everyday, I’m with justice. 

Front Porch in July

My front porch is patriotic and decked out in red, white, and blue for the month of July.  It's starts with a wreath a friend of mine made.

I’ve been so frustrated and disappointed in my government of late that I considered taking a pass on a patriotic display.  But this is my nation, too.  And I am a patriot.  I’m a patriotic who believes that a nation of immigrants should have open doors for other immigrants and their families.  I’m a patriot who believes that equal justice for all means just that, all of us.  I believe that looking after the vulnerable makes us stronger and better.   I believe that liberty is more than a word, it’s pledge and promise we must maintain for everyone, not just those who are born here.  So I will celebrate the best of my nation with red, white, and blue on my front porch.  

I will relax here and enjoy the tranquility with my book, cold drinks, and iced tea.  And I won’t cede a bit of space to those who won’t bring tolerance and kindness to the celebration of our independence.  

Patriotic Porch for July

With July 4 on the horizon, I made plans for a new display for this month’s porch.  To be sure, the current political climate has me reluctant to express patriotism (more on that tomorrow).  There is a lot about my nation that I love; at our best, Americans can do some very good things. We are not at our best right now, but I haven’t given up hope.  This is as much my nation as it anyone else’s and I have no intention of giving up the battle on behalf of our better angels.   So I will celebrate our Declaration of Independence with some red, white, and blue and the enduring hope that we can do better.  

My front door wreath is a gift from my crafty friend daytime T.

The table has a red and white tablecloth and plenty of summer greenery and blooms to go with my charming white birdhouse.

The rocker is doing double duty as a place to relax and to dry out JT’s washed running gear.  Those double begonias are quite literally over the top..

The popsicle flag cheers my days and reminds me that simple pleasures make summer lovely.

This summer's flower baskets make me smile every day.  

That's happy!

My America

For all of my professional career, I have labored in the world of American politics and history.  For better or worse, that means that on a daily basis I am thinking about  our republic and the promise of our democracy, its pledge of liberty, and the history that got us here.  More so than most people, I am aware of the failings in our history as a nation; I teach them to my students.  At the same time, I am aware of the promise in our past  I teach that as well.  I’ve always chosen to believe that the promise will prevail.  So great is my faith that I named my son after one of our founders, a decision I have never regretted.

I’m not going to say that Donald Trump has shaken my faith in the promise of American liberty; that would be giving one mean-spirited man too much power in my world.  But I find he and his supporters profoundly disappointing.  They wave the flag in one fist, shake the other in fury, and spout invective and ignorance in equal measure.  It’s not hard to disagree with a political opponent who lacks command or understanding of the basic facts.  But it is hard to respect them.  They aren’t my America.

My friends and I joke about moving to Canada in the event that November brings an unthinkable outcome.  But we’re not cowards and this is our nation as well.  It’s our responsibility to remind one another of the nobler purposes in our shared past.  On the 4th of July, that reminder is timely.

My America is the Seneca Falls Declaration of Sentiments and a pledge to demand a fair share of independence and equality for women.  It’s the Emancipation Proclamation and Lincoln’s “unfinished work.”  My nation is the golden lamp held high for the “tired, huddled masses yearning to be free.” It’s Franklin Roosevelt’s four freedoms.  My nation is the land of Martin Luther King’s dream, and the expectation that we will all work toward that progress.   My America is the world’s refuge for freedom.  

Fellow citizens, let's not forget that it is these promises that give meaning to the United States.  They belong to us all and it is in them that the path to greatness is paved. 

Freedom and Justice for All

The alternate title for this posting could be “Poor People Love Their Children, Too.”  I also considered “Happy Birthday, Nation of Immigrants.”  By now it should be clear that I am writing about the current immigration crisis of children being detained at the border as they seek to enter the United States.  NPR has been running some terrific stories about the problem.   And they have lingered in my mind.  If you’d like them to linger in your mind, you can find them here.  

My day is filled with the needs of children.  They are well-loved children who are safe and secure, which is a very lucky thing.   The challenges in my world are most often in terms of their parents who, like parents everywhere, worry about their kids.  The Latin and South American parents who are sending their children on an unknown journey north in pursuit of the elusive American dream are sending their children because they worry about their children’s safety, security, and ability to eat.  These are basic needs.  Concerns about them can cause reasonable people to take risks that the rest of us find unthinkable.  There is no way that I would send my 14 year old on a harrowing 1500 mile journey to sneak across the border.  Of course, I don’t have to do that to keep him safe and nourished.   The fact that other people do have that worry makes me terribly sad.  That they live in our world, let alone our hemisphere, makes it my responsibility.

That responsibility is complicated by the fact that I live in the United States, a nation of immigrants.  The privilege of being an American is not one that I earned; it’s an accident of my birth.  I respect the fact that good luck that put me in this situation and I believe I should pay it forward.  I expect my government to do right by the children we find at our borders.  As I see it, we have two options:  send them back to safe homes or keep them here.  Sending these children back to safe homes means helping the governments in places like Guatemala and El Salvador to keep their citizens safe; it means ending government corruption and finding a way forward for the citizenry’s basic needs.  If we can’t (or won’t) do that, then these children should become ours.  We should keep them safe, nourish their bodies and minds, and find a way to take them into the homes, churches, schools and communities of their relatives in our nation.  If they don’t have those resources, we should share ours.  

I realize that neither of these solutions is easy.  I understand the complexities of opening our nation to strangers.  But, after all, as a nation of immigrants from all over, we have always been a nation of strangers.  And with that status, we have fostered some powerful ideas (the Declaration of Independence is a big deal, a fact we acknowledge every year on July 4).  We have done some powerful things (the World War II victory comes to mind).  

There are children at our doorstep and they need us.  Let’s show them the basic humanity that we would extend to a stranger on our own front porches.  Let’s do right by these young immigrants and fulfill the promise of freedom and justice for all. 

In Praise of Neighbors

Twice a year, in July and again in October, my neighborhood holds a block party. We shut the street to cars, meet in the middle, and share food and company. The kids enjoy the freedom of riding bikes and scooters in the street. The adults are reminded of what neighborhoods are about. We talk and catch up. We share our favorite foods. We connect.

I grew up in neighborhoods with this kind of feel. It seemed natural when I was a child; now it seems downright old-fashioned. People looked out for one another...and kept track of the kids. Lost pets were returned; cups of sugar were borrowed; fresh garden produce was shared (and even the zucchini was welcomed). When I moved here two years ago, I chose the house because the neighborhood had the look and feel of what I wanted: big trees, green yards, sidewalks, and front porches. It seemed like a place with good neighbors.

And looks did not deceive. These folks are terrific and always ready with a smile and a wave. J and A, who live two doors down, scrupulously maintain the yard of the elderly man next door. Come nor'easter time, the snow blower owners always help those of us equipped with just a shovel. D, the man with the beautiful garden across the street, came across the street with his wrench to help me remove the training wheels from JT's bike. G next door helped me remove the rusty old sprinkler from my hose when the time came for a new sprinkler. And in an act far beyond simply being neighborly, N replaced my faucet when it broke off. It was a tedious job requiring extraordinary patience and hours of his time.

All of these things are offered in the spirit of kindness and neighborliness that seems a bit old-fashioned in these days of busy lives and 4 car garages. But on Second Street twice a year we pause to appreciate and enjoy the neighborhood. And because we take that time, we are able to reap the rewards all year long.

So today I will toast my nation's independence and my neighborhood's dependence. And I will enjoy the laughter of kids with water balloons and bicycles and grown ups with extra tomatoes and a willingness to help out.
Plus, I will enjoy a neighborhood potluck featuring grilled hot dogs, cold beer, and sushi. Because, hey, I live in New Jersey and that's how we do it here.