On this 4th of July, I’ve come to a simple realization: I never doubted my freedom as an American. Never once. I always knew I was as free as any other American, no matter their color. This may not seem to be a significant realization. But when I look back on my life, I can see all the negative forces that tried to make me doubt myself as an American. There were individuals who tried to plant the seed in my head that I should always be angry at America for enslaving and segregating my ancestors.
My grandfather is no longer with us, nor is my mother, but I always carry their pride in and love for America with me. I preach her virtues every day in my community and, like my grandfather once did with me, I ask the young ones what they want to be when they grow up, what is their American dream? It is true what they say about America and her dream being an idea. It really is all so fragile, so susceptible to bad faith, especially in my neighborhood.