Why July 4 Doesn’t Feel Like Freedom for Everyone

By DeSean Dyson

The Fourth of July is, for many, a moment to gather in celebration of freedom, independence, and nationhood. But for countless Americans throughout history, this day has also carried a painful contradiction: the promise of liberty paired with the denial of their humanity and rights.

On July 4th, 1876, a Black company of the South Carolina National Guard marched down Hamburg’s Main Street, proudly celebrating 100 years of American independence. These men believed they had a rightful place in Independence Day celebrations, yet days later, they were confronted by 400 armed white men demanding they disarm. The encounter escalated into a violent standoff that ended in the execution of six Black men and one White man— an atrocity now remembered as the Hamburg Massacre.

In the wake of the killings, Congressman Joseph Rainey, the first Black to serve in the U.S. House, demanded an investigation. “In the name of my race and my people, in the name of humanity and of God,” he asked, “are we to be American citizens, with all the rights and immunities of such, or vassals and slaves again?”

Hamburg was not an isolated incident. Across the Reconstruction South, Black communities seeking to celebrate, assemble, or exercise their newly gained rights were repeatedly met with violence:

Memphis Massacre (1866, TN)

New Orleans Massacre (1866, LA)

Mechanics Institute Massacre (1866, LA)

Camilla Massacre (1868, GA)

Opelousas Massacre (1868, LA)

Colfax Massacre (1873, LA)

Coushatta Massacre (1874, LA)

Eufaula Election Massacre (1874, AL)

Vicksburg Massacre (1874, MS)

Ellenton Massacre (1876, SC)

Wilmington Coup (1898, NC)

These were moments when Black citizens simply sought to live out the freedoms promised to them — only to have those dreams crushed by racist terror. During Reconstruction, we saw the United States move from a system of enslavement to one where violence and terror were used to prop up a different system of codified racial hierarchy.

At the same time, it’s important to hold the complexity that many Americans genuinely love and celebrate this holiday — honoring their ideals of freedom, community, and patriotism. That celebration is real and meaningful for millions. Yet for others, systemic racial injustice makes it nearly impossible to join in that sense of belonging without first reckoning with these truths.

This erasure of joy and belonging hasn’t disappeared. Today, efforts to roll back the teaching of Black history, or to treat Juneteenth as an unworthy “non-working holiday,” echo these same patterns of suppression. As recently as this month, President Trump complained about America having “too many non-working holidays” on Juneteenth, a slight that was felt acutely by many communities of color—despite earlier acknowledging its vital meaning for freedom in America. Similarly, the removal of diversity, equity, and inclusion resources from places like Arlington National Cemetery shows a resistance to even recognizing the contributions and sacrifices of communities of color.

In a country as divided as ours, moments to come together matter deeply. But true celebration demands truth. History shows that even in the harshest conditions, Black communities have demonstrated a resilient impulse to claim their place in the American story—to gather, to celebrate, to believe in the ideals of life, liberty, and justice.

If July 4 is to have meaning for everyone, it must belong to everyone. Otherwise, we fail to live up to the very experiment in democracy and human dignity we claim to honor with fireworks and parades.

Healing, humility, and honesty can help transform July 4 into a genuine celebration of what freedom means—not only for some, but for all.

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