Today, as the United States celebrates Independence Day on July 4, 2025, fireworks will light up the sky, barbecues will sizzle, and patriotic anthems will fill the air. For many, this holiday marks the birth of a nation founded on the lofty ideal that “all men are created equal,” a phrase etched into the Declaration of Independence that promises inherent rights and equal treatment under the law. It’s a beautiful sentiment, one that stirs pride and unity—or it should. But for Black people, particularly those of us whose ancestors were enslaved and oppressed, this celebration rings hollow. Independence Day, at its core, isn’t for us, and here’s why.
Let’s start with the obvious: when Thomas Jefferson penned those immortal words in 1776, he didn’t mean my ancestors. The “all men” he referred to were white, landowning men—hardly a universal category. My forebears, dragged from Africa in chains, were considered property, not people. They toiled under the lash, building the economic foundation of this nation while being systematically denied the very rights Jefferson so eloquently championed. The Declaration’s promise of equality was a lie for them, a bitter irony served with the sting of whips and the weight of iron shackles. To celebrate a day that excludes the descendants of those who were deliberately left out feels like honoring a betrayal.
The hypocrisy didn’t end with the founding. Even after the Civil War and the passage of the 13th, 14th, and 15th Amendments, which theoretically granted freedom and equal protection, Black people faced a century of Jim Crow laws, redlining, and systemic violence. The “equal treatment under the law” was a mirage—courts upheld segregation, lynchings went unpunished, and voting rights were stripped through poll taxes and literacy tests. Independence Day, then, becomes a celebration of a freedom that Black Americans were forced to fight for long after 1776, a freedom that remains incomplete. How can we raise a flag for a day that marks the birth of a nation that, for generations, viewed us as less than human?
Some might argue that Independence Day has evolved, that it now symbolizes a broader American ideal of liberty for all. Fair enough—progress has been made, and I’m not blind to it. The Civil Rights Movement, the election of Barack Obama, and ongoing activism have pushed the needle toward justice. But evolution doesn’t erase history. The holiday’s roots are steeped in the exclusion of Black people, and its celebrations often gloss over that painful reality. Parades and picnics don’t acknowledge the 246 years of slavery, the 100 years of legalized segregation, or the persistent racial disparities that linger today—disparities in wealth, health, and justice that trace back to those original inequities.
For me, July 4th feels like a celebration of someone else’s freedom, not mine. My ancestors didn’t gain independence in 1776; they fought for it through blood, sweat, and unyielding resilience. Juneteenth, the day in 1865 when the last enslaved Black people in Texas learned of their freedom, feels more like our independence day—a hard-won victory, not a borrowed one. While others wave flags and sing about liberty, I’m left reflecting on a nation that still grapples with fulfilling its promise to all its people.
This isn’t to say Black Americans should reject patriotism altogether. Many of us serve, vote, and contribute to this country’s fabric. But Independence Day, as it stands, is a reminder of a promise unkept rather than a triumph shared. Until the nation fully reckons with its history—until “all men are created equal” truly includes the descendants of those it once excluded—this holiday will remain a celebration that doesn’t belong to us. Maybe one day it will. Until then, I’ll honor my heritage on my terms, not on a date that echoes with the silence of my ancestors’ exclusion.
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