kip and i have spent a fair amount of christmases
and new years[es]
in foreign countries
and i
personally
have spent a few july 4ths
far away from the united states
perhaps this could become another tradition
because, damn, i wouldn’t mind
never having to look at another nationalist capitalist display
of red, white, and blue
touting patriotism as a personality
to be sold and bought
at any price
it is very nice
waking up on the fourth
and not being reminded
of our country’s supposed “greatness”
because we are on a whole ‘nother continent
which believes more like we do —
that the united states has done
just about
nothing
to earn the term
great
[or maybe they don’t think about our country much at all
which is, perhaps,
even better]
watch out
i’m moody
i’m grumpy
i want to wear all black
mourn the death of this nation
that was never that great to begin with
but conceptually it had some nice ideas…
…is that the human condition?
everything looks pretty good on paper
but the moment it comes to actively
executing the ideas laid out
everything, everything, falls apart?
welcome,
those of you who have decided
against
celebrating the us’s birthday,
glad you’ve arrived!
not to say i’ve been here that long;
i always kind of half-heartedly enjoyed
the fireworks
the cookouts
the bonfires
because
they were fun
but i never felt that loved by this country
(even after ‘marriage equality’ was bestowed upon me);
my last ‘official’ july 4th was
2019.
in 2020 i listened as
people who don’t look like me
confronted july 4th
and taught me what
holding a country accountable
could look like
in 2021 i had a quiet day;
bettering myself in an acting class
run by a
trans
woman
of color
immigrent
who let me let my
witchy poet side
rise
and this year…
this year it’ll be another quiet one.
our plans are simple:
my spouse is creating their own company
with the intention to make life better
for those who have to deal with this
capitalistic hellscape;
and i will be making art for protest–
embroidery,
and writing,
rehearsing for queer shows,
and reading more words by more folks
who don’t look like me/
who weren’t raised in the privileges i was raised/
but we still have so much in common.
and the two of us, my spouse and i,
we won’t spend any money
(except in donation
to those who need
more than we),
we’ll make our own food
and cut our own hair,
mend our own clothes,
and give each other care,
and maybe some seeds will sprout today
(both literally and figuratively)
that will give future us even more reason
to stop giving to this country
until this country gives back
to those it’s taken from.
(it’s a small protest, we know
but maybe, if you can do a little bit, too,
we might be able to dismantle
systems of oppression
bit
by bit
by bit)
so, welcome,
those of you who have decided
against
celebrating this day today,
we’re so glad you’re here.
perhaps it’s just the folks i know up there,
but nearly everyone i know in Canada
has passed on their normal July 1 celebrations
to contemplate the bodies of indigenous children
that continue to be unearthed.
and i feel guilty that i’m not surprised.
and i feel ashamed that my country probably has ten times as much blood on its soul
(at least)
and i feel embarrassed that there is no national day of reckoning here,
no setting aside celebrations
for the purpose of confronting our relationship with the
problematic,
hardly taught,
secret history of our nation.
last year i confronted July 4th,
i marched and chanted and sat and listened
in a crowd gathered;
white folks there to learn,
Black and Brown folks there to share and celebrate.
i stared squarely into the face of what it means to be
born
on stolen ground.
i looked down at my feet,
where i expected to see myself standing on only my own accomplishments,
and finally saw the backs of Black folks i’d unintentionally climbed over,
that my ancestors had climbed over,
had climbed onto
had used (knowing or not) as a step up for themselves.
and i saw the blood on all our hands.
i watched native dances from the tribes of lands we live on now,
and i heard words from folks who chose this country over their homeland,
in spite of what it meant for their skin,
but because of what it meant for their queerness,
(though that story is also so very complicated)
and last year the only fireworks were from everyday people in the neighborhood
just letting off a little steam,
no city or state or nation led celebration,
instead individually making the ‘holiday’ what everyone wanted.
what everyone needed.
what do i do this year?
there should have been ten times as many people confronting July 4th last year,
there should be ten times more doing the internal work this year,
but i can only worry about myself and what i do.
so i’ll do my work.
i’ll continue to do my work.
though i know there’s no end in sight;
that’s what it means to be a citizen here.
kipventures 