Not Because We’ve Arrived, but Because We Haven’t Given up.
A Queer Woman’s Fourth of July
This Friday, I’ll be walking my dog past neighbors with flags flying from their porches. I’ll smell the barbecues. Hear the fireworks. Feel the thrum of a country celebrating its birth.
And I’ll feel… complicated.
Because I do love this country.
I love the land—its deep forests, open skies, the salty breath of the Pacific and even the red clay of Arizona. I honor the people who’ve fought and died for the idea of freedom. But I also know that for many of us, that freedom still has an asterisk.
Limited Freedom Means:
Trans kids are being erased from sports and schoolbooks.
Queer families—my family—are being questioned, condemned, and legislated out of visibility.
Black and Indigenous communities are still waiting for the justice this country promised.
Reproductive rights are being clawed away, piece by piece.
So yes, I feel pride.
But it’s not the kind wrapped in red, white, and blue.
It’s the kind forged in protest. It’s queer pride. Survivor pride.
Hopeful, exhausted, still-believing pride.
So, what does it mean to celebrate the Fourth of July as a queer woman in 2024?
It means honoring the sacrifices of those who believed in the dream of liberty—
while continuing to fight for those that dream left out.
It means standing in both gratitude and grief.
Gratitude for the freedoms I do enjoy: to marry my wife, to raise my sons, to write my truth.
Grief that these freedoms aren’t protected for everyone.
It means reimagining patriotism—not as allegiance to the past, but as a fight for the future.
A future where:
Freedom isn’t conditional.
Bodies aren’t policed.
Histories aren’t erased.
Love isn’t legislated.
Hope, justice, and freedom for all looks like this:
Messy.
Tender.
Loud.
Resilient.
Backed by drag queens, marching mamas, trans teenagers, veteran activists, and ordinary folks refusing to go quietly.
So yes—I’ll celebrate.
Not because we’ve arrived.
But because we haven’t given up.
I'll light a sparkler for every right we’ve earned.
And a fire (metaphorically ofc) for everyone we’re still fighting for.
Because this land is worth saving.
And so are we.
How are you feeling this week? What does freedom mean to you right now?
Drop it in the comments. Let’s talk about what kind of country we’re still dreaming into.