Two men celebrating at Muckleshoot Fireworks Mall at night, standing in front of a large, colorful fireworks explosion; one wearing an American flag shirt and the other in blue and white, with bright red and yellow sparks filling the sky.
Green and red streaks explode, lighting the blast field at the Muckleshoot Fireworks Mall like a battlefield.(Photo: Nate Gowdy)

What's the Fourth of July Mean at the Muckleshoot Fireworks Mall? Family, Freedom, and Right to 'Blow Stuff Up'

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Each Fourth of July, a gravel lot on the Muckleshoot Indian Reservation becomes both a bazaar and a blast zone. Governed by Muckleshoot Tribal Code, the Fireworks Mall flaunts what would be felony conduct elsewhere in Washington: the open sale and ignition of high-powered aerial explosives.

There's a designated launch zone with rules to follow, but no safety briefings — just hands and wagons full of artillery shells, debris underfoot, and fuses lit with lighters held low. Vendors sell explosives. Shoppers arrive from nearby suburbs where fireworks are banned. Families, friends, and sellers merge into a ritual that's as much about proximity and participation as it is about spectacle.

As one Muckleshoot member and vendor says, "You know, with celebrating the holiday, it's about the kids. If the kids are happy, we're happy."

Media coverage tends to focus on legality, sovereignty, or public safety. But on the ground, the event defies easy framing. It's part capitalism, part nostalgia. What passes for patriotism here erupts in the gravel and dust at your feet.

One attendee puts it bluntly: "Fuck whoever is the president — we're gonna blow stuff up."

Another lights shells in honor of his late uncle. "He loved this," says Ian R. of Auburn. "I like to do it up for him."

The night moves in waves. Kids run through smoke. Medics stand by. People press forward, then pull back, depending on where the next blast comes from. At a time when democracy feels abstract or out of reach, this version of freedom is immediate — and it comes in a cardboard box.

This photo essay captures the smoke trail of a holiday nobody's in charge of — just fireworks, fumes, and the ways Americans take freedom into our own hands.

Crowds shopping for fireworks at Muckleshoot Fireworks Mall in Washington at sunset, surrounded by colorful flags, streamers, and vibrant booth decorations, with American flags flying above.
(Photo: Nate Gowdy)

As golden-hour light fades, shoppers move between plywood stands and shipping containers, loading up on fireworks. Smoke hangs low over the gravel as early blasts crack in the distance — a preview of the chaos to come.

Men in Joker and Super Mario costumes at Muckleshoot Fireworks Mall in Washington, posing with fireworks for sale during Fourth of July celebrations.
(Photos: Carrie Schreck and Nate Gowdy)

At left, Joshua B. of Auburn, dressed as the Joker, frames the Fourth as both tradition and a flex. "You've gotta spend $2,000 to $3,000 to really compete here," he says. "This year was bad — I only did about $1,500." As a kid, he recalls, "Our Fourth of July was the Fifth. We'd go through the field and pick up the stuff that didn't go off." At right, Luke M. of Muckleshoot, a vendor in a Super Mario costume, ties the ritual to something older. "I just like the smell of fireworks. I'm a pyro," he says. "After everything we've been through as a nation, it's nice we can still come together over something that happened a long time ago — to celebrate our freedom. They dumped the tea. What better way to honor that than by blowing stuff up?"

People at Muckleshoot Fireworks Mall with politically themed fireworks; man poses with "Trump Returns" canister shell, woman holds "America First" box amid nighttime fireworks display.
(Photos: Carrie Schreck)

At left, J. Woods of Auburn, a longtime vendor at the Fireworks Mall, stands beside a canister labeled "Trump Returns" — one of dozens of politically branded fireworks on display. "It's just freedom, man," he says. At right, a woman smiles while holding a box marked "America First."

People at Muckleshoot Fireworks Mall watching fireworks against colorful sunset sky, families and groups silhouetted on open field.
(Photo: Carrie Schreck)

Bursts from fireworks light up a field as people stand or sit in folding chairs. "The Fourth of July ain't about America," says Lee M. of Seattle, who watches with loved ones. "It's about family."

Father holding daughter with earmuffs and stuffed animal while fireworks explode at Muckleshoot Fireworks Mall; child smiles in one image, they crouch together in another.
(Photo: Nate Gowdy)

Razi S. of Sumner smiles from her father's arms as fireworks crack overhead. Asked what the Fourth of July means to her, she replies: "Sparkly and colorful. Beautiful."

People celebrating at Muckleshoot Fireworks Mall; two women pose with drinks amid fireworks, and a man in American flag tank top watches bright fireworks at night.
(Photo: Nate Gowdy)

At left, two women pose for the camera as a firework explodes just behind them. At right, Big Al of Seattle wears an American flag T-shirt and reflects on the day's meaning. "Freedom, man! Keep it lit," he says. "It's the one day everyone's kicking it and having fun, and not letting that political shit get to us."

Another attendee adds: "If you don't like it, get the fuck out."

Two-part photo at Muckleshoot Fireworks Mall: left shows a man in a wheelchair with fireworks and a standing companion, right shows a woman holding a large lit firework blasting flames into the sky.
(Photos: Carrie Schreck and Nate Gowdy)

At left, a man in a Captain America T-shirt sits in a wheelchair with a box of fireworks on his lap. At right, Margarita Mendoza of Federal Way lifts a flaming artillery shell overhead. Asked how she feels about celebrating the Fourth under the current administration, she says, "We're called to love foreigners and strangers as our own, because we were once foreigners and strangers in the land of Egypt."

Two boys reacting to fireworks at Muckleshoot Fireworks Mall; left shows children running and covering faces amid sparks, right shows boy in red shirt sprinting past active ground fireworks at sunset.
(Photo: Nate Gowdy)

As dusk settles over the gravel field, the younger generation takes the reins, dodging sparks, lighting fuses, and learning by fire.

Person in black hoodie launching and shielding from fireworks at Muckleshoot Fireworks Mall at night, dramatic sparks and smoke filling the scene.
(Photo: Carrie Schreck)

The show is in everyone's hands — sometimes literally. One attendee lights a firework by hand and hurls it upward, shielding his ears as it detonates in front of him.

Man in Marvel Spider-Man shirt using large fireworks launcher at Muckleshoot Fireworks Mall, bright flame and smoke lighting up the night.
(Photo: Nate Gowdy)

"Being prior military, the Fourth of July means we get to do something that reflects our freedom," says Dennis H. of Kent. "We're not a democracy. We're a constitutional republic. Democracies turn into democratic socialist governments like Venezuela."

Two men hiding under cardboard box during intense fireworks at Muckleshoot Fireworks Mall, sparks and lights filling the sky.
(Photo: Nate Gowdy)

Two young men crouch beneath a cardboard shield as golden sparks fall overhead. "I just love the Fourth of July," says A.J. of Auburn, at right. "It's not about the actual holiday itself — it's just about being with your people and having fun."

Two men celebrating at Muckleshoot Fireworks Mall at night, standing in front of a large, colorful fireworks explosion; one wearing an American flag shirt and the other in blue and white, with bright red and yellow sparks filling the sky.
(Photo: Nate Gowdy)

Green and red streaks explode, lighting the blast field like a battlefield. "Freedom is the only thing you gotta focus on," says Zavian Ambriz of Des Moines, wearing an American flag tank top. "We're still freer than every other country, so we should take pride in that. I have way more privilege than I would in a third-world country."

Person firing large handheld firework launcher at Muckleshoot Fireworks Mall; smiling Valley Regional firefighters posing by fire truck.
(Photos: Nate Gowdy and Carrie Schreck)

At left, Dennis H. scorches his hand mid-launch when a shell misfires. On standby nearby, EMTs from the Valley Regional Fire Authority — Tyler F., Erik P., Josh R., and Gary B. — pose beside their rig. "A few years ago, I saw a guy get hit in the stomach with a mortar — his intestines were coming out," says Josh R. Another EMT notes that most injuries involve fingers and hands, though occasionally they respond to more severe incidents. "This year, we've only seen one fireworks-related injury."

Three people navigate fenced path during intense fireworks show at Muckleshoot Fireworks Mall, sparks and smoke in night sky.
(Photo: Nate Gowdy)

Bursts crack overhead and scatter across the gravel. Friends duck and weave through the chaos, grinning and flinching in equal measure.

Spectators watch massive red and gold fireworks explosion at Muckleshoot Fireworks Mall at night, with smoky debris-filled ground.
(Photo: Carrie Schreck)

As the night winds down, people stand transfixed before a final bloom of fire and smoke. The ground is littered with spent shells and shredded cardboard.

Nate Gowdy, whose political photography appears in Mother Jones and Rolling Stone, among others, published the sole book of photojournalism about the Jan. 6 attack on the U.S. Capitol. He's also known locally for his "American Superhero" portrait series and his work celebrating Seattle's LGBTQIA+ communities.

Carrie Schreck is a photographer, filmmaker, and essayist with a focus on far-right extremism. Her work has been featured in The New Yorker and CNN.

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