By Michael Eugene Johnson
As America celebrates 250 years of independence, I find myself asking a simple question: Independence for whom?
When the Declaration of Independence was signed in 1776, my ancestors were not free. They were property. They were bought and sold. They built wealth they could not own, worked land they could not possess and helped create a nation that denied them citizenship, dignity and humanity.
So, when America celebrates 250 years of freedom, I must ask: Where in that celebration do I find my history?
I acknowledge America’s greatness. I acknowledge its achievements, its innovations and its ideals. But I also acknowledge that for much of those 250 years, Black men and women were excluded from the promises written into the nation’s founding documents.
My ancestors survived slavery.
They survived lynching.
They survived segregation.
They survived laws designed to keep them poor, powerless and invisible.
And yet they still believed in a better America.
They fought in every American war. They built cities, railroads, businesses, churches, schools and communities. They created music, literature, inventions and movements that transformed the world. Black people have always loved America enough to demand that America become what it promised to be.
That is why I do not celebrate blindly.
I reflect. I remember. I question. I challenge. I honor those who came before me.
I honor the Black men who were never called “founding fathers,” but who helped build the foundation of this nation with their labor, sacrifice and blood.
My refusal to celebrate is not an act of hatred. It is an act of honesty.
I cannot celebrate 250 years of freedom without acknowledging 250 years of struggle.
I cannot wave a flag without remembering those who were denied the protection of that flag.
I cannot sing of liberty without remembering those who lived and died without it.
America’s birthday should not only be a celebration. It should be a reckoning.
It should be a moment when the nation asks itself whether it has fulfilled its promise of liberty and justice for all.
For me, the Fourth of July is not about fireworks.
It is about truth. It is about memory. It is about unfinished business.
And while I may not celebrate America’s 250th birthday in the traditional sense, I do celebrate
the resilience of Black people.
I celebrate our survival. I celebrate our faith. I celebrate our excellence.
I celebrate our determination to keep pushing America toward its highest ideals.
Perhaps, one day, America will fully become what it declared itself to be in 1776.
When that day comes, my celebration will be complete.
Until then, I will continue to speak the truth, honor my ancestors and work for a future worthy of their sacrifice.
Thank you, and may God bless our community and guide this nation toward justice.
The opinions on this page are those of the writers and not necessarily those of the AFRO.
