“My country ‘tis of thee, sweet land of liberty…” in my head I hear the sound of a record scratching to a stop. Those words cannot sincerely roll off of my tongue, they’re false. For me and people who share my ancestral genetic makeup (Afro-descendants) there is no liberty. There never was, not in this country. It pains me to say that because I was taught American history and to be a proud American, of which I had been. I’d often said America equaled the world and New York, its best country. Growing wiser, I see the error in my education but truly I cannot say I was not taught American history, that I was-- it just was not true history. True history is what I’ve come to know in adulthood.
How I wish the nobility that rang through the pages of every school’s history books were true. Since then I’ve learned that I’d been perpetuating ignorant pride while a whole group of people hurt for centuries but continue to fight to maintain a semblance of their native culture. I’m sorry, I did not know but I do now. I always knew this land I call my own may not have been my own had slavery not ravaged the fertile soil of Africa, dispersing my ancestors to foreign lands. Still, I was born here so it is now my land but is it sweet? I can say “my country” but does it claim me? Never had one to break apart a patriotic ode like now, find the meaning, does it ring true?
“Sweet land of liberty of thee I sing,” I now believe that these words were in essence utopian because they certainly have not proven to be true for all. Perhaps, that may have been the intent, a land of liberty for certain people not all. Reality and history support this observation. I desire, with fervor, to sing of a land that cultivates liberty. A land that loves me and makes room for me to bloom. I desire to live knowing my breath is not a crime or an assumed misguided threat to a soul full of hate that they cannot even yet grasp.
I want to sing of ‘thee’, a land that reflects the principals of its constitutions, amendments and marketed guarantees. I was born in to this product, so while I cannot get my money back for the lies it sold my parents I do demand its best customer service to its citizens and our guests (every foot that has stepped on to this land’s soil and has added value in spirit, valor, commerce, emotion and the like—these are our guests though not a citizen). America, you owe your word! That is not too much to ask.
I want to live in a country I can be proud of like I thought I was as a child. I want to live in a country that loves me and shows it. I want to live in a country that values what I give back to it. I want those who have shed blood for this country selflessly, though they were hated, to have an honored legacy here. I want America to be the America the world paid for with hopes and dreams. I want to live in my Country ‘tis of Thee.
Sadly, it comes to me letting my country know, I simply want to live. An ask no one should ever have to make.
I want to live.
