There is little to celebrate this July 4th.

This July 4th its mourning in America.

I cry for our country. I cry for the millions who will lose the safety nets so primal to being an American. I cry that children and babies will go hungry. Or spirited away from their parents by masked men.

In my America.

On July 4th, at 5 p.m., a bill will be signed by Donald Trump that will turn us into a fascist country.

I cry for this patriotic, flag-waving, red, white, and blue, idealistic  7-year-old girl.  who believed in the inherent goodness of America, as she lived out her parents’ post-war American suburban dream.
I stood every morning next to my school desk with my right hand over my heart, pledging allegiance to a country that promised liberty and justice for all. We may not have realized our ideals fully, but we always moved forward to correct them.

From my earliest memory, there was the belief that Americans had the means to conquer poverty, disease, and ignorance. It was our moral obligation to care for those in need.

Now, on Independence Day, we are being stripped of our freedoms and rights.

This is not my father’s America.

This is not my America. 

And it brings me to tears.