Today is July 3rd, one day before Independence Day. I always kinda liked July 4th as a kid. It was the first big holiday after school was over and we always went to my aunt and uncle’s house and swam in their pool. It was always a good time with good food and average company. I loved some of my relatives quite a bit, but as I got older it became the great interrogation of how my school year went, with the only metric my grades. And unless it was straight A’s, it was a disappointment. The follow up question was always “What grade are you starting in the fall” followed by the sighs and gasps along with “I can’t believe that you are that OOOLLLLDDD.” Much younger me probably would’ve responded with “But you are even older than me!” The me that I actually remember would never be so rude to say something sassy like that back at an adult. Lots of backroom chats and spankings in previous years taught me how to be “nice” and respectful on the outside, while the sarcasm was actively flowing in my head.
But independence this year means something different to me. In this past year, I have done so much more in separating myself from everyone’s expectations of who I should be and becoming my own person with my own beliefs and my own set of rules for myself that do not include satisfying everyone else before myself. It’s not that I am not considerate and helpful; it’s just that my own happiness won’t always be sacrificed for everyone else’s.
I’ve also spent a lot of time processing how living in this country feels to others that are not like me who has family tree branches stretching all the way to the earliest colonial days. Recent immigrants long for not just better opportunities, but safe opportunities for their families. Black and brown families are tired of the way they’re treated as second class citizens whose history may stretch back as far as mine but was not privileged like my family was.
Then there’s the one or two lines of my family that stretch back even more than the colonial days. The Native Americans who already lived here and were unceremoniously killed or colonized by the other branches of my family. Ouch. It hurts just to think about this. I’ve been doing a ton of studying on one branch in particular and the legend goes that this ancestor of mine was an “Indian Trader” who was gifted a bride from one of the tribes he traded with. That feels disgusting to me. This happened often. Too often, really. I can’t shake the way I feel about it and how peaceful tribes were painted as savages and destroyed, along with their beautiful culture.
Thinking about the 250th celebration of this country feels less exciting than I imagined it would. It makes me feel full of dread for what is left out. Is it glorious that we live in this democracy when so many have been forced to live in countries with no opportunities for a better life? Sure. Is it glorious that “All men are created equal…” Sure. But what is the reality?
I am trying to get a bank account for my oldest because his other parent takes his money out of the joint account they share. Why are we struggling to get him a bank account? Because I don’t have a proof of address for him at this point. The acceptable items include rental agreement, utility bill, voter registration card, updated driver license, etc etc etc. He has a FL DL, a military id with no address, and why would we put his name on any utility bills? He also doesn’t have a credit card and gets all bank statements from the other account via email. So, it feels like an impossible task to get some way to prove his residence and I have the means and experience to actually do it when we both have the time.
But what about people who don’t? Getting a driver license is huge because you need all these forms of documentation. A job requires the same things now. We’ve made a huge line of hoops to do anything in this country because we are afraid of illegal immigrants to the point that we make it hard for actual citizens. Prove you belong here. Prove you aren’t banking with terrorists. Prove you are who you say you are. And yet criminals get fake ids. Terrorists still live everywhere. People get guns they shouldn’t own according to the laws. But what we’ve really done is make barriers for people who can’t afford to get copies of documentation that should be free to request.
What a great country we live in. If you were born Amish, for example, you likely were born at home and no state-sanctioned documentation exists for you. How do you leave the Amish world with no birth certificate and no social security number? Who helps you figure out where to go to get those things? How do you figure out that you even need those things outside of the world you’ve always known? We are trapping people in circumstances and then blaming them for not knowing how to improve their own lives. Amish is just one example of this, although most just stay in their insular world.
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