This is not about the movie. This is about the holiday.
I’ll let you in on a secret…native Philadelphians do NOT like the Fourth of July.
For us, the Fourth of July means an influx of tourists, lots of traffic downtown, and an impossible crowd at Penn’s Landing (where the main fireworks happen).
Forget going anywhere—the visitors take over.
Normally, I’m okay with hunkering down in my apartment, watching the Twilight Zone marathon on the Sci-Fi Channel. This year has me recovering from brain surgery and disabilities; therefore, I’m in my head more. A LOT more.
This Independence Day leaves me feeling less than free. Being poor has never been a good thing, but in America, it doesn’t just make you helpless, hopeless, and powerless. It makes you an Enemy of the State.
Say hello to Public Enemy Number One.
Since 45 took office, I have had to endure daily mouth-crapping from radical Republican extremists about what they think that I no longer deserve. According to their Bizaro logic, I don’t deserve health insurance, disability benefits, student loan forgiveness, or a livable wage.
“Get a job”, they say.
Tell the people who interview me when my 47 year old body limps into their office to give the job to someone with 20 years’ experience instead of a 20 year old fresh out of school.
Tell that to the people who think that a Black woman with a high school diploma, college degree, and a license in a skilled trade is only qualified for an entry level job at Walmart because no one has hired her for a full-time permanent job in 17 years.
Tell that to the people who’d rather see me dead than living as their equals.
What kind of freedom am I supposed to be celebrating?
I refuse to die because society has deemed people like me undesirable and unfit to live. I refuse to accept America’s standard for my quality of life. I will gain my indepence by any means necessary.
End of rant.
