SERIES | What, to Black Americans, Is the Fourth of July? Part 1

Reflecting on Frederick Douglass' 1852 speech.

In reflection of Independence Day, the South Seattle Emerald reached out to contributors, friends, and community members to respond to Frederick Douglass' speech "What, to the Slave, Is the Fourth of July?"

Delivered in his new hometown of Rochester, New York, Douglass addressed a crowd of citizens on July 5, 1852, with a scathing critique of America celebrating its freedom, while Black people were still in bondage.

The following essays express the views of the authors, all of whom were asked to read the speech and reflect on its message through the lens of present-day society.

You can read Douglass' full speech online at BlackPast.org, and you can find all parts of this series on the Emerald's "What, to Black Americans, Is the Fourth of July?" page.

A Reminder of This Country's 'Astonishing Hypocrisy'

by Gennette Cordova

Fourteen years after boarding a train in Baltimore to escape to freedom, Frederick Douglass was in his new hometown of Rochester, New York, delivering his now-famed 1852 address, "What to the Slave Is the Fourth of July?" In a scorching and profoundly honest indictment of the United States — the country in which he'd been born into chattel slavery — Douglass' words are permanently branded into the historical notion of America's Independence Day.

"The causes which led to the separation of the colonies from the British crown have never lacked for a tongue," Douglass said about the nation's culture of patriotism. He observed how proudly his fellow countrymen taught the story of the Revolutionary War in schools, how they reminisced over it among friends and family, and preached about the virtues that prompted it in their pulpits and legislative halls.

At the heart of Douglass' speech is this conclusion: While for many the Fourth of July is a day to bask in the glory of their forefathers' successful fight for independence, there is no better day to reject America's delusions of itself and call out its astonishing hypocrisy.

"Americans are remarkably familiar with all facts which make in their own favor," Douglass charged. "This is esteemed by some as a national trait—perhaps a national weakness."

America, as a nation, is not now nor has it ever been a truthful or objective historian. Even as it oversaw the expansion of chattel slavery, one of the cruelest brutalities ever imparted onto a population of people in the history of the world, it still touted its belief in life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness. These distortions of reality apply both to the accepted versions of U.S. history, and to the mainstream framing of current issues.

As Americans celebrate our nation's Independence Day, as we wave our flag and sing songs in our honor, we are funding and arming genocide and illegal occupation; the highest court in our land recently ruled that cities may jail people for the crime of having no home, in the wake of a nationwide homelessness crisis; racist and classist policing has resulted in a record number of extrajudicial killings by cops in the past year. And still, we're blitzed by constant messaging of America being the bravest, greatest, most freedom-loving country on earth.

Critiquing his listeners, Douglass says, "I fancy I hear some one of my audience say … Would you argue more, and denounce less, would you persuade more, and rebuke less, your cause would be much more likely to succeed. But, I submit, where all is plain there is nothing to be argued."

This sentiment captures the general condescension that human rights movements, aimed at improving the conditions of the many, are constantly met with. Leaders and followers of these movements are met with a distinct gaslighting that suggests the tone or aggression of their movement's language and actions are the primary roadblock to achieving their goals. But now is not the time to quiet our voices. We aren't supposed to tiptoe around calling out breaches of human rights. We're not supposed to speak politely about violent oppression.

At the time that this speech was delivered, it would be over a decade before the U.S. officially outlawed slavery. Douglass lambasted the crowd, and the country as a whole, for having the bravery to go to war with the British over a "three-penny tax on tea," while the law of the land allowed for millions of Black people to be held in bondage, and paid nothing for their labor. Over 150 years after emancipation, legalized slavery in the form of forced prison labor is still disproportionately imposed upon Black Americans. What better moment is there to shame our nation for its continued expansion of mass incarceration than a holiday meant to exalt the idea of freedom?

"'I will not equivocate; I will not excuse'; I will use the severest language I can command; and yet not one word shall escape me that any man, whose judgment is not blinded by prejudice, or who is not at heart a slaveholder, shall not confess to be right and just."

Douglass told the crowd that if he had the ear of the nation, he would use the celebration of the Fourth of July to "pour out a fiery stream of biting ridicule, blasting reproach, withering sarcasm, and stern rebuke. For it is not light that is needed, but fire; it is not the gentle shower, but thunder." Although his fight was to eradicate slavery, there is unconscionable suffering happening presently that we can't afford to be silent about. Whether on a national level, overseas, or in our own backyard, it's our responsibility to name the glaring violations of justice perpetuated and supported by our country. The policies and decisions that enable these abuses deserve our ridicule, our reproach, our sarcasm, our rebuke. Using this occasion to arouse our shared conscience and lay bare our hypocrisy is keeping the tradition of Frederick Douglass alive.

Gennette Cordova is a writer, organizer, and social impact manager. She contributes to publications like Teen Vogue and Revolt TV and runs an organization, Lorraine House, which seeks to build and uplift radical communities through art and activism.

The South Seattle Emerald is committed to holding space for a variety of viewpoints within our community, with the understanding that differing perspectives do not negate mutual respect amongst community members.

The opinions, beliefs, and viewpoints expressed by the contributors on this website do not necessarily reflect the opinions, beliefs, and viewpoints of the Emerald or official policies of the Emerald.

Featured Image: Illustration by Vladimir Verano.