What Freedom Feels Like - A July 4th Reflection

Today, I’m thinking about freedom. 
What it means. What it looks like. What it feels like.

For some, the 4th of July is a day of celebration—picnics, parades, fireworks, and pride.

And I get that.

There’s something beautiful in honoring the parts of our story that shaped us toward something better.

There’s something sacred in gathering, in remembering, in naming what we’re grateful for.

But I also know that freedom—real freedom—has never been equally experienced in this country. Not historically. Not now.

We live in a place where some are free to love openly, and others are still made to feel unsafe for simply existing.

Where some can move freely, speak loudly, rest easily — While others carry generations of silence, surveillance, or survival.

There are people who are still waiting for their rights to be restored.
Still fighting for bodily autonomy.
Still trying to feel safe in spaces they helped build.
Still unheard. Still unseen. Still unfree.

So today, I’m holding both.

I’m deeply grateful for the freedoms I’ve fought for.  
The ones I’ve reclaimed.  
The ones I didn’t always believe I deserved. Freedom to create. To rest. To love fully.  
To build something from scratch that feels like mine.

And I’m also holding space for the people and communities still waiting for theirs. For those whose freedom is conditional. Performative. Or entirely denied.

Because freedom isn’t just fireworks and flags. It’s safety.  
It’s choice.  
It’s being seen and honored in the fullness of who you are without shrinking or code-switching or explaining.

So wherever you are today — celebrating, grieving, resting, resisting —
I hope you feel a little more free.  
In your body.  
In your voice.  
In your joy.

And I hope we keep building a world where that kind of freedom isn’t the exception.
It’s the norm.

Here’s to collective liberation, quiet joy, and the kind of freedom that makes room for everyone.