LAND OF THE FREE (Terms and Conditions Apply)
by Andrew Joseph Duffer

I didn’t celebrate the Fourth of July this year. I haven’t in many years—because most Americans keep their heads buried in the sand, except on the Fourth, when they lift them into the clouds just long enough to watch fireworks burst above a country that’s burning below.

Their heads are never where they should be—and that’s exactly how those in power want it.

Because if you’re not paying attention, then you won’t be horrified. This isn’t the land of the free. It’s the land where freedom is rationed—right alongside insulin and food—where billionaires buy Supreme Court rulings and fly private jets over tent cities, while over 600 anti-LGBTQ+ bills sweep the country.
This is the land where women have fewer rights than they did 50 years ago. Where doctors hesitate to save lives out of fear of vague, brutal laws. This is the land where, if you’re Black, Brown, Indigenous, disabled, or an immigrant, they want you just visible enough to exploit— and just invisible enough to forget. This is the land where voter suppression and police brutality aren’t just common— they’re normalized. Where Indigenous land was stolen, handed back in fragments, and now even that is being stripped for profit.
Sovereignty is ignored. Treaties are trampled. It’s the land where we criminalize homelessness instead of solving it. Where poverty is treated like a crime, not a crisis. We can’t find housing or mental healthcare— but we found millions in days to build a barbed-wire concentration camp in a Florida swamp, called Alligator Alcatraz, surrounded by gators and guards. There’s no budget for compassion here. But there’s always one for cruelty. Wages are stagnant. Rent is extortion. One medical bill can ruin you. All public schools and healthcare have become battlegrounds for religious control. Christianity is no longer practiced— it’s legislated. The separation of church and state is dead. And democracy is next—thanks to Project 2025. They want Trump to control every federal agency— the DOJ, even the military. They want to replace public servants with loyal extremists, and erase every check and balance. You’re not unpatriotic for calling this out. You’re just awake. And “woke” is the last thing they want you to be. This isn’t a nation. It’s a machine. A machine that feeds on rights— and spits out power. A gated community with a graveyard underneath. So what exactly are we supposed to celebrate? Ask the woman forced to give birth to her rapist’s child. Or the trans teen too afraid to pee at school. Or the immigrant father in a cage, while his child sleeps on concrete. Ask the unhoused veteran who served a country that won’t even serve him a hot meal. You want to honor America? Then tell the truth. Because truth is the only kind of patriotism left. And the truth is—we are not free. Not while billionaires buy elections and churches write policy. And they’re not even hiding it anymore. They don’t want democracy. They want dominance. And they’re betting that you’ll be too tired, too numb, or too distracted to stop them. Because this system doesn’t just depress— it exhausts. It wrings you out. The American Dream was never a promise. It was bait. And we fell for it. America didn’t break— it worked exactly as it was designed to. The system isn’t failing—it’s functioning. Feeding the powerful. Draining the rest of us dry. And if that makes you sad—good. That sadness means you still have a soul. Use it.

I’m not just talking to the people who are hurting. I’m talking to you, too, Republicans. You’re letting this happen. And if you’re feeling something in your chest—something unsettling, heavy, or hard—don’t run from that. Lean into it. That ache in your gut is your conscience whispering that something is wrong. Question what you’ve been taught. Be brave enough to disagree with your families. Strong enough to challenge your husband. Honest enough to admit you’ve been lied to. Because silence doesn’t keep you safe. It keeps you complicit. And history is watching. You think this is about politics. It’s about power. About who gets to live freely—and who has to live quietly, until someone decides they shouldn’t live at all. You think you’re safe because your church told you this was right. Because your 401(k) is doing fine. But authoritarianism doesn’t stop where you’re comfortable. It starts there.
You think your privilege is a shield. It’s a leash. You don’t have to agree with me on everything. You don’t even have to like me. But if you love this country—then prove it. Protect the people it’s trying to erase. Because you’re next. And I’d rather stand beside you now—while there is still something left to stand for— than watch you learn too late. The boots are already on the ground. The laws are already written. The ink is drying. And when the silence comes, it won’t be peace. It will be the absence of every voice they erased: every queer kid, every person of color, every immigrant, every protest silenced. And in that quiet will feel calm—until you realize it’s just the calm before your storm. That’s when you’ll remember our warnings. Because it always starts with cheering— and it always ends with history. People think it will never happen again. You’re not safe. You’re spared—for now. I’m not anti-American. But I won’t put my hand over my heart and pledge allegiance to a country that makes it beat out of fear.