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fourth of july
What July 5th Taught Me That July 4th Never Did
The U.S. celebrates independence while denying it to others; Venezuela fights for sovereignty while being punished for it.
Jul 05, 2025
Growing up in Venezuela and now living in the United States, I’ve always felt caught between two independence days: July 4th and July 5th. Two celebrations. Two flags. Two very different ideas of what it means to be free.
In the U.S., the Fourth of July comes with fireworks, parades, and an almost unquestioned belief in the righteousness of the revolution it commemorates. But in Venezuela, July 5th conjures up different thoughts. It is not just a break from colonial rule but the beginning of a long, unfinished struggle to define freedom on our own terms. It’s not something we inherited. It’s something we’re still fighting for.
And now, from where I stand, I can’t help but see the contradictions. One country celebrates independence while denying it to others. The other fights for sovereignty while being punished for it.
Venezuela’s July 5th is not about fireworks. It’s about survival, resistance, and the ongoing struggle to build a future rooted in dignity.
The story of Venezuela’s independence is part of a much longer, bloodier history. The entire region of Latin America and the Caribbean erupted into revolutionary movements more than two centuries ago, not out of ambition, but as a response to some of the worst atrocities in human history. Colonization, slavery, forced conversions to Catholicism, cultural erasure, and resource extraction didn’t just leave economic scars, they tore at the heart of our collective humanity. As Eduardo Galeano wrote, “Our wealth has always generated our poverty by nourishing the prosperity of others.” Independence wasn’t a beginning; it was resistance and a demand to reclaim everything stolen, silenced, and buried.
In Venezuela, the independence process was shaped by the ideas of the Enlightenment and the revolutions in France, the U.S., and Haiti. But Simón Bolívar, our “Liberator,” wanted something more than a flag or a change in rulers. He envisioned a republic built on justice, not just sovereignty. A society where slavery would be abolished, land would be redistributed, and governance would belong to the people. Speaking before the Congress of Angostura in 1819, Bolívar declared, “The most perfect system of government is that which produces the greatest possible amount of happiness, social security, and political stability.” This wasn’t about replacing a crown with a new president. It was about reimagining society itself, building a nation rooted in dignity, equality, and the well-being of all.
It was a vision far ahead of its time. And it came at a devastating cost. Venezuela lost half of its population during the wars of independence. But as Bolívar said, the other half would have given their lives, too, to make freedom real.
Venezuela became free from Spain, but not from exploitation.
After the discovery of oil beginning in the 1920s, the country became a new kind of colony, one shaped by foreign corporations and U.S. geopolitical interests. While oil profits filled the pockets of multinational companies and domestic elites, the majority of Venezuelans lived in poverty, with no access to healthcare, education, or housing.
That began to change in 1998, when Hugo Chávez, invoking the legacy of Bolívar, won the presidency and launched what became known as the Bolivarian Revolution. He called on the people to reclaim democracy, not just through elections, but through participatory structures, economic justice, and sovereignty. For many who had long been shut out of the system, it was the first time they saw themselves reflected in their own government.
It was transformative. And it was deeply threatening to the powers that had always treated Venezuela as a resource, not a republic.
The Bolivarian Revolution was seen as a threat to U.S. imperial interests from the very beginning. From the moment Hugo Chávez took office in 1999 and began redirecting Venezuela’s oil wealth toward social programs, land reform, and regional integration, the backlash began. He refused to follow the neoliberal script written in Washington, and for that, he was targeted.
In 2002, the U.S. backed a coup attempt against Chávez, which briefly removed him from power before a massive popular uprising brought him back. But the attacks didn’t stop. Economic sabotage, disinformation campaigns, and diplomatic isolation escalated over the years.
After his death in 2013, the campaign intensified. Under Nicolás Maduro, Venezuela was hit with the full-spectrum of economic warfare: hundreds of unilateral coercive measures, the freezing of billions in international assets, restrictions on food and medicine imports, and open support for regime change. A war without bombs.
This is daily life for Venezuelans. And yet, we’re told these policies are meant to help us. You don’t help people by starving them. You don’t “defend democracy” by trying to force another country to its knees.
Here in the U.S., it’s easy to treat independence as something that was achieved once and for all in 1776. But if that were true, why is our country still trying to control the fate of others? Why do we claim to stand for freedom while undermining it abroad through sanctions, coups, and endless wars? And even more urgently: why are so many people in the U.S. still struggling just to survive?
Empire comes at a cost, not only to the people we target, but to the people right here at home. While the U.S. government spends trillions on foreign wars and military bases, our communities are told there’s “not enough” for universal healthcare, housing, or public education. The same officials who lecture the world about freedom are the ones who lined up to vote for the “Big Beautiful Bill,” a package that bankrolls war and delivers massive tax breaks to billionaires while dismantling the programs that keep people housed, fed, and alive
We’re told to celebrate freedom while immigrants are deported, unhoused people are criminalized, and Palestinian solidarity is silenced. We’re told we live in the greatest country on Earth, even as life expectancy drops and student debt skyrockets.
So when I hear U.S. leaders talk about spreading democracy, I can’t help but ask: Whose democracy? Whose freedom?
You can’t claim to support democracy and starve a population at the same time. You can’t celebrate independence while trying to overthrow other governments. And you can’t speak of justice if your policies enforce inequality on a global scale.
As a Venezuelan-American, I’m proud of the history that Venezuela has fought for. And I want to be proud of the United States, the country I also call home. But that will only be possible when the U.S. chooses respect over domination, when it ends the sanctions, when it stops weaponizing aid, democracy, and freedom to serve its own economic interests.
Venezuela’s July 5th is not about fireworks. It’s about survival, resistance, and the ongoing struggle to build a future rooted in dignity.
So while the U.S. celebrates its independence this week, I hope more people take a moment to ask: What are we really celebrating? And at what cost?
True independence isn’t about flags or anthems. It’s about the right to choose your own path without being punished for it. If we’re serious about “liberty and justice for all,” then we have to mean it. Not just here, but everywhere.
Real freedom doesn’t come wrapped in patriotic speeches or military parades, it comes through struggle, sacrifice, and the refusal to bow to empire, no matter what form it takes. Whether in Venezuela or the United States, the fight for dignity continues. Eduardo Blanco captured this truth in Venezuela Heroica, when he wrote: “To restrain the passions of people when they’ve been pushed beyond reason is harder than stopping the sea itself.”
And that’s exactly what we’re witnessing in every mobilization, every boycott, every refusal to accept injustice as normal.
The tides of liberation can’t be contained by borders, bullets, or decrees. Not in Venezuela. Not in Gaza. Not in the United States. Not anywhere.
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We Didn't Fight a Revolution for a King
Why presidential power should worry every American.
Jul 04, 2025
The Fourth of July marks the day America declared our independence from the idea that one man should hold unchecked power over an entire people and from a system that placed loyalty to the crown above fairness, above freedom, and above the law. That's the kind of government America's founding fathers risked their lives to overthrow.
Alexander Hamilton summed it up in Federalist No. 47, which most readers were required to read in high school, "The accumulation of all powers, legislative, executive, and judiciary, in the same hands, whether of one, a few, or many, and whether hereditary, self-appointed, or elective, may justly be pronounced the very definition of tyranny." President Donald Trump does not wear a crown, but some of his unilateral, unconstitutional actions—past and planned—echo the exact abuses that America's founders opposed. And whether you support him or not, this should give you pause.
I say this as someone not looking to insult or belittle anyone's vote. Millions of Americans supported Trump in 2024 for valid reasons. Many voters simply felt he was the better of two flawed choices. But if you're one of those Americans—someone who voted for Trump but doesn't want to see one man hold all the power—this message is for you.
A system that allows one person to "do whatever I want" is only comforting if you always agree with that person.
The Founders didn't just oppose King George III because of taxes or trade. They rejected the very idea that one man should rule without real accountability. The Declaration of Independence laid out a vision of a republic in which power is limited, divided, and checked.
Our system was built with friction on purpose—three co-equal branches, independent agencies, freedom of the press, and state sovereignty—all to prevent the rise of a single ruler.
Donald Trump has stated that Article II of the Constitution gives him "the right to do whatever I want as president."
Maybe you trust Trump with that power. Maybe you think he is using it wisely, or at least in your interests by abducting college students off of city streets because of their speech, cutting off federal funds to universities that refuse to cede academic freedom to the government, summarily stripping away birthright citizenship from children born in our nation, starting a war with another nation without any justification or congressional authorization, and funding a genocide in clear violation of U.S law. But what about the next president who runs with this precedent and goes even further? Or the one after that? A system that allows one person to "do whatever I want" is only comforting if you always agree with that person.
Many Americans, especially Republicans, have historically been skeptical of big government and concentrated power—and rightly so. Because when power gets centralized, it never stays in the hands of just one party.
Presidents of both parties have tested boundaries. But what President Trump proposes goes further: He's not testing the guardrails—he's removing them. And he's doing it while promising "retribution" and calling political opponents "enemies of the state."
The Declaration of Independence includes 27 grievances against King George III. Among them: obstructing justice, making judges dependent on his will alone, keeping standing armies under his personal command, manipulating elections, and using public offices as instruments of personal loyalty.
Read those carefully and reflect on the last few months.
As a Muslim, I'm also reminded that the warning against absolute authority isn't just a constitutional principle—it's a moral one. In Islam, power is a trust (amanah), not a privilege, and leaders are servants accountable to those they lead—and to God. Yusuf ben Ali, whose name appears in a revolutionary war era military muster role, is just one example of Muslims risking all for American ideals.
The Prophet Muhammad (peace be upon him) said, "Every one of you is a shepherd, and every one of you is responsible for his flock." American Muslims know what it's like when government power turns its gaze on a single community—through surveillance, profiling, and fear-mongering. That's why we are especially sensitive to executive overreach. Because when power becomes personal, the Constitution becomes optional.
Too often, we treat criticism of a president as disloyalty. But that's not how the Founders saw it. They built a system where debate, dissent, and accountability were patriotic. Where allegiance is owed to the Constitution—not to a man.
We can and should insist on a system where no one—left or right—can ignore the law, silence opponents, or rig the system for personal gain.
The Founders gave us a framework strong enough to withstand kings, tyrants, and demagogues—but only if we choose to uphold it. We uphold it by not letting any president—Trump, Joe Biden, or the next one—rule without limits. And that's something every American—no matter who you voted for—should stand up and defend.
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What to the Arab-American and the Child of Immigrants Is the Fourth of July?
For me, it is hard to separate the explosions lighting our night sky from over 600 days of explosions, also funded by our tax dollars, setting alight universities, hospitals, tents, and children in Gaza.
Jul 04, 2025
As we walked toward the park for the fireworks display, my 5-year-old held my hand excitedly. “I want to see the fireworks up close,” she said. We’ve only watched neighborhood displays through our window, in previous years. She helped me pull her younger sister in the wagon behind us.
When the first fireworks lit up the sky, both children covered their ears. “It’s too loud!” They cried, looking up at the sky in awe. “How do they shoot them up there? I want to see,” said my older child, quickening her pace. But my heart paused.
For me, it is hard to separate the explosions lighting our night sky from over 600 days of explosions, also funded by our tax dollars, setting alight universities, hospitals, tents, and children in Gaza. The daily atrocities, which include illegally blocking food and humanitarian aid and then “deliberately” shooting at unarmed Palestinian civilians waiting for aid at U.S.-funded distribution sites, have all but faded from our newspapers.
No child should have to look up at the sky in fear that the bombs bursting in air will flatten their home, school, or hospital, or separate them from their loved ones.
I immediately thought of a Palestinian-American colleague in NYC, who had recently texted, “My aunt just came for a visit from the West Bank, Palestine. When she heard fireworks in the neighborhood, she froze and asked, ‘Has the war come here?’”
On some level it has. The insistence of U.S. elected officials on continuing to send our tax dollars to Israel for its annihilation of Gaza, in spite of majority public opposition, played a decisive role in the 2024 election. The disillusionment of the American electorate, and the growing gap between policy and public opinion, has only grown. Now 3 out of 4 Americans believe that our democracy is under serious threat.
In 1852, Frederick Douglass, an American abolitionist and statesman, was invited to deliver a speech at a meeting of the Rochester Ladies' Anti-Slavery Society in New York, entitled “What to the Slave is the Fourth of July?” He reflected on the young republic, extolled its fight for political freedom, and then asked a vital question: “Are the great principles of political freedom and of natural justice, embodied in that Declaration of Independence, extended to us?” Douglass urged the listener to ponder on the inequities of our 76-year-old nation, founded on universal declarations of freedom, whose economy relied on enslaving Black people, and denying them the same freedom we proudly proclaim. His question today bears repeating.
Today, as we celebrate 249 years of American democracy, the ironies of the moment could scarcely be more stark. Our president, himself the child of one immigrant and married to another, aims to end birthright citizenship. The 1800s feel closer than ever as the Executive Branch pushes our Constitution to its limits, challenging the 14th Amendment which granted birthright citizenship to the children of slaves. That same president has also brazenly endorsed evicting or eliminating 2 million Palestinians from their homeland to turn Gaza into a beach resort, although 4 out of 5 Americans oppose this flagrant violation of international humanitarian law.
In the past month, plainclothes Immigration and Customs Enforcement officers have detained U.S. citizens on their way to work, and detonated explosives to blow off the front door during a raid of a Los Angeles home, traumatizing a woman and her two children, 1- and 6-years-old, who were sleeping inside. In spite of the misgivings of a majority of Americans, Congress has forced through massive cuts to healthcare and nutrition benefits, which may push an estimated 17 million people off health insurance, threaten the closure of 300 rural hospitals, and increase food insecurity for over 40 million Americans. And thus, it should be little surprise that our same president has contracted with Palantir to create a searchable, “mega-database” of tax returns and other private data of U.S. citizens, which would enable surveillance and further erosion of our civil liberties. Our ability to tolerate the erosion of freedoms and security for some portends the erosion of freedom for all.
As we gather with our neighbors, friends, and family this weekend, let us reflect more deeply on our duty to protect the Declaration that we celebrate. For too many citizens of this republic, firework displays echo the devastating realities our loved ones face. No child should have to look up at the sky in fear that the bombs bursting in air will flatten their home, school, or hospital, or separate them from their loved ones. At a bare minimum we should have the power to ensure that our tax dollars do not fund such atrocities.
As we approach our nation’s 250th anniversary, we must urgently acknowledge that the American Revolution is not over. Let us not whitewash our history but understand that we shape it. We all have a role to play in defending its core principles, of “life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness” for all. At this moment, the most rightful way to honor our democracy is to follow Douglass’ sage exhortation to “stand by those principles, be true to them on all occasions, in all places, against all foes, and at whatever cost.”
This piece has been updated with edits from the author.
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