4th

I want to tell you a story... I need to tell you a story. 

Today is my least favorite.

But I wasn't always this way.

Yes, I always fought for justice, peace and to stand up as a voice... someone else's voice.

I wasn't always the one marching or protesting or finding myself in conversations that make doing the right thing feel so off center from the rest of the country. 

I was the girl who held her flag the highest. 

Who sang the National Anthem at her first ever talent show. 

The girl who told her daddy she would fight in wars even if it killed her. 

Because her country, her people, were everything.

Uncle Sam, Lady Liberty, Bald Eagles, and lots of guns.

I can tell you I read a book that changed my life. 

Or that I met some people who would show me the value in the fight I had inside.

How to turn that into passion.

I always fought for justice, peace and to stand up as a voice... 

but this time it would be for me, for them.

I have gone through every phase imaginable.

Guilt, shame, disgust, shock, fear, grief, pride, ignorance.

I defaced flags.

I refused to stand or sing the National Anthem.

This time last year I was sobbing on someone else's floor, in Southern California, just days after being in Mexico, because this place isn't free, or safe, or dreamlike for anyone that looks like my friends. 

My family. 

Surrounded by poverty in the 1st world.

Fearing the young black and brown men in my life won't live to see another day.

Still in disbelief that man on TV somehow won the election in November and has destroyed peoples lives each and everyday since.

And yet, it's terribly easy to be a young white girl and be uncomfortable in this country.

It's a privilege because nothing will happen to me.

Here's to fighting for justice, peace, and being a voice for someone else on this very American Holiday.