By Denise Kruse, Janice Perez Evans, and Roy Mong
O
n July 5, 1852, Frederick Douglass, a leader in the American abolitionist movement, delivered a speech to his fellow citizens of Rochester, New York. On this, the day after the 76th anniversary of the signing of the Declaration of Independence, he issued a strong statement: “The blessings in which you, this day, rejoice, are not enjoyed in common. The rich inheritance of justice, liberty, prosperity and independence, bequeathed by your fathers, is shared by you, not by me. The sunlight that brought life and healing to you, has brought stripes and death to me. This Fourth of July is yours, not mine. You may rejoice, I must mourn.”
For many of us caught between two (or more) cultures, the less culturally “different” we behaved, the more “American” we were considered to be. We lived in constant conflict between these personas. But it’s not either/or. It’s both/and. I can be fully Filipino and fully American. A newfound freedom.
During this conversation with my friends, Latina American sister Janice Perez Evans and Reclaim contributor Roy Mong, Douglass’s statement kept coming to mind. While certainly not a reference to our cultures’ endurance of chattel slavery, the ambiguous sense of belonging and rights to celebrate as individuals whose physical features distinguish them as perceived foreigners are felt reading Douglass’s words, nearly 170 years later. -DK
How does one celebrate the Fourth of July as a perceived perpetual foreigner, especially when you are not connected to nor have ever physically been to your ethnic country of origin?
JPE: My feelings surrounding celebrating the Fourth of July are as complicated as our nation’s history. These feelings are shared among many BIPOC people, particularly when our melanated skin and physical features somehow make others feel obligated by unspoken societal policing to ask us, “Where are you from” or “What are you?”
Implying that we do not belong brings to mind the soul-wearying fatigue caused by the lifelong suspension between our ethnic culture and the land where we are citizens. An ache that carries a lingering shame for who we are and who we aren’t. A shame of a native tongue we may not know. A shame of a land our eyes may have never seen. A shame caused by love for parents and grandparents whose honor we do not want to stain by claiming one place over the other.
In those moments we are faced with the choice of allegiances and binaries that requires an answer with a historical survey to honor our heritage and not the actual desired short answer which is expected, often eliciting a response such as, “Mexican food is my favorite, for real, like tacos are the best.”
So for me the question remains, is this holiday for us anyway?
RM: You know, in the past couple years, I’ve pulled out the Declaration of Independence to read what we celebrate on the Fourth of July, and each time, I’m amazed at how prophetic of a document it is.
“We hold these truths to be self-evident, that all men are created equal, that they are endowed by their Creator with certain unalienable Rights, that among these are Life, Liberty and the pursuit of Happiness…That to secure these rights, Governments are instituted among Men, deriving their just powers from the consent of the governed…That whenever any Form of Government becomes destructive of these ends, it is the Right of the People to alter or to abolish it, and to institute new Government, laying its foundation on such principles and organizing its powers in such form, as to them shall seem most likely to effect their Safety and Happiness.”
Out of the tyranny of the British empire, the colonies were able to see that all people are worthy of dignity, and that dignity should be the foundation upon which government is instituted. If power becomes corrupt and moves away from the flourishing of humanity, then changes—small or great—ought to be made.
But I believe the Declaration of Independence is just as prophetic for what it does not say: Thomas Jefferson had originally drafted an anti-slavery clause condemning the transatlantic slave trade as a “cruel war against human nature itself.” However, in the days prior to its ratification, congressional delegates decided to remove the anti-slavery clause.
As an Asian American, this is the internal conflict I feel every year on the Fourth of July: My heart swells at the ideology of the Declaration of Independence, yet it withers when I look at the hypocrisy in the implementation of those same ideals.
How does this country seek the “Life, Liberty, and pursuit of Happiness” for Asian Americans when one of the largest mass lynchings in US history happened along Calle de los Negros in the Chinese massacre of 1871, with the result of only eight convictions, all of which were overturned on technicalities?
How does this country seek the “Safety and Happiness” of Asian Americans, when those in political and social power write into law the Chinese Exclusion Act of 1882? Or when 62 GOP House members and GOP Senator Josh Hawley voted against an anti-Asian hate crimes bill, even as Stop AAPI Hate has tracked 6,603 cases of anti-Asian hate from March 19, 2020 to March 31, 2021?
For me as an Asian American then, the Fourth of July celebration of the ideology without acknowledging the practical harms and “othering” of immigrant communities of colors reveals itself to be a tool adding to the myth of American exceptionalism. Each year I wonder: What am I really celebrating? Who am I really celebrating?
What is your hope for the future of the United States?
JPE: As a believer in Jesus Christ, I long for justice for all peoples and I firmly believe that the United States provides the opportunity for this longing to be realized. For me this means not only praying but tangibly working toward, “your [God’s] kingdom come on earth as it is in heaven.”
That looks like voting for policies that are not oppressive to the marginalized, serving in my local community doing advocacy work, and continuing to learn from BIPOC voices who have been leading the way for decades.
This also means that it is incumbent upon current citizens to look back on our history, not through rose-colored nostalgic lenses, but with eyes to learn about the unjust practices and policies we have inherited for the sake of repairing them. Acknowledging the failures of this nation does not negate the positive things she has accomplished, but rather it helps us understand the fullness of what we have with the intention of stewarding it well.
This excerpt of Langston Hughes’s poem I Dream a World sums it up best:
I dream a world where all
Will know sweet freedom’s way,
Where greed no longer saps the soul
Nor avarice blights our day.
A world I dream where black or white,
Whatever race you be,
Will share the bounties of the earth
And every man is free...
RM: As I’ve been reflecting on the irony and hypocrisy of colonists fleeing from the British tyranny, only to become tyrants through Indigenous genocide and chattel slavery while writing the Declaration of Independence, I walked away with this thought:
What if the American Revolution is still ongoing?
If the ratification of the Declaration birthed a country pledging the equality of all people, then are we not simply continuing the fulfillment of that revolutionary thought?
Like Janice said, looking backward on the Fourth of July with only nostalgia is not true hope. True hope is claiming the entirety of our history, learning from it, and actively working towards a new and better way for all of human flourishing.
And even more so as Asian American Christians, our dual citizenship in the Kingdom of God as well as in the United States of America should prompt us to not grow numb or calloused to the onslaught of injustice we continue to see. Rather, our hope secured in Jesus should prompt us towards clear, meaningful action towards justice in society.
For more articles on this topic:
From Hot Pot to Hot Dogs: Asian American Perspectives on the Fourth of July
A Kingdom Citizen in the Home of the Brave
Photo by Polina Tankilevitch from Pexels
Denise Peñacerrada Kruse is an editor with the Asian American Christian Collaborative, a proud Chicago native, and pandemic-induced homeschool mom. She and her husband Vince live with their three kids in a suburb of St. Louis. If you’re into nonsense kid quotes and oft-irreverent musings, follow her on Twitter and Instagram.
Janice Perez Evans is a biracial Latina indigenous to Texas, transplanted to the Twin Cities, where she lives with her husband and their four children. She has a background in elementary education, and graduated with honors from Colorado Christian University with a degree in organizational leadership and project management.
Roy Mong is a leadership coach and writer. He believes that the good news should truly be good news to those who hear it and seeks to exemplify that in his coaching and writing. He lives in Dallas, TX, with his wife, daughter, and second daughter on the way. You can see more of his work on his website or follow him on Instagram and Twitter.