The Kind of Freedom Worth Fighting For

Rethinking liberty, scarcity, and the stories we tell ourselves

The 4th of July is one of my favorite holidays. It combines two things I really love: BBQ and fireworks.

(I know it’s not cool to say that – and yes, I know some of you are already judging me.)

But as the sky explodes in color and the crowd cheers, I feel a real swell of pride in my chest – along with a little heartburn.

Recently, someone asked me to describe my definition of freedom. The truth is, I’m not sure I’ve ever really stopped to think about what freedom means – or, maybe more pressing, who gets to have it.

After some reflection, here’s what I’ve come up with…

For me, freedom isn’t about doing whatever I want. Freedom is being able to rest without guilt. Speak without fear. Show up without shrinking.

Freedom is walking into a space and knowing you belong – not because you earned it, but because it’s built into the design.

It’s safety. It’s dignity. It’s agency.

It’s liberty and justice – not just for me, but for all.

Of course, the idea of “for all” has taken some real sordid twists as of late. It’s wild how something so simple – “for all” – can be stretched, politicized, and in some cases, completely hollowed out.

I suspect that when some people hear “for all,” they wonder: At whose expense? They worry that if others gain rights, safety, or recognition, it means they’ll lose something. They don’t trust that there’s enough to go around.

Honestly? I kinda get that.

We’ve all been shaped by systems that train us to compete, hoard, and protect what’s “ours.” I see it in myself more than I’d like to admit.

I run a small pizza stand on the side, and I’ve noticed something strange.

In the winter, when sales are down and every night feels like a grind, I find it easy to be generous with the crew. I feel the tightness, and I want to protect them from it.

But in the summer, when the line’s long and the tickets are stacked? That’s when I start tightening up. Not because we’re struggling, but because I’m already bracing for when we will. I’m trying to outrun winter before it even starts.

And that’s when I remind myself that scarcity isn’t always about how much we have. Sometimes it’s about how much we’re afraid to lose.

I suspect it’s that same fear that makes it hard for some people to embrace someone else’s freedom.

It’s a fear that whispers: Be careful. Don’t give too much. You might need it later. And when we listen to that fear, our idea of freedom starts to narrow. Safety becomes something to guard instead of something to share.

To be clear, I’m not trying to justify harmful beliefs or romanticize ignorance. But I am trying to understand where that fear comes from, because it seems to shape everything: Who we vote for. Who we listen to. Who we trust. And who we shut out.

If we want to build a country that truly offers freedom for all, I think we have to speak to the fear. Not to excuse it, but to interrupt it.

So this Fourth of July, let’s take some time to be clear about what freedom means to us. Not just in theory, not just in celebration – but in practice. Let’s interrupt the narratives that tell us there’s not enough to go around. Let’s refuse the kind of freedom that only works for some.

Any freedom worth celebrating has to include room for all.