This year marks the 250th anniversary of the signing of the Declaration of Independence. At the federal level, unsurprisingly, the Fourth of July is shaping up to be, in the words of Atlantic writer, David Frum,  “A Day of Trump.”

I am sure I’m not the only person struggling with the contradiction of a “Semiquincentennial 250” birthday bash, for a USA that is currently more fascist than democratic. Still, the irony of this year’s Fourth of July gives me pause to consider its meaning. Possibly for the first time since my eighth grade civics class, I reread the Declaration of Independence with the eyes and mind of someone whose ideas have evolved within a changing social context. Many of the stated grievances directed to King George III bear a strong resemblance to our current president who would be king. I applaud the Declaration’s principle that, “Governments are instituted among people (updated from “men”), deriving their just powers from the consent of the governed. ” These words are a cornerstone of democracy.

Like many Americans, I have struggled with the historical truths that my country was built on an ideology of white Christian supremacy to justify the kidnapping and enslavement of Africans, the genocide of Indigenous peoples, and the establishment of laws forbidding those deemed “less than,” such as women and immigrants, to enjoy many of the rights to “Life, Liberty, and the Pursuit of Happiness,” guaranteed to white men.

But our democracy has always been a work in progress that has precipitated the evolution of social movements for equal rights and inclusion.  The First Amendment’s guarantees of freedom of religion, speech, the press, assembly, and the right to petition for redress of grievances enabled marginalized people to launch social movements demanding equal rights to vote, to work, to pray, to equal education, equal pay, be protected from harm, marry the person of their choice, fair housing, due process, and the list goes on.

We stand on the shoulders of those who dedicated their lives to win these rights for all human beings. The fight for human rights extends over generations. Rights are won and lost in legislatures, courtrooms, and by executive orders. The decimation of the Voting Rights Act, Roe v. Wade, diversity, equity and inclusion policies are just a few examples of hard-won victories turned into losses. It is on all of us to win them back.

I walked up the steps of First Churches in Northampton on the morning of June 6. My friends and I came early, to claim good seats. When we entered the room, many of the hundreds of wooden pews were already filled with a sea of mostly grey-haired men and women. I recognized the people I had seen at protests and rallies, holding signs, chanting, singing, marching to call for an end to all forms of violence, locally and globally. Today, in First Churches, we gathered to memorialize Paki Wieland, who dedicated her life to justice for all. Paki’s activism was love in action. In the words of Pastor Sarah Buteux, “Paki didn’t hate people; she hated injustice.” I barely knew Paki, but I remember the infectious smile she had for everyone she encountered, a smile that would not fade when the going got  tough. In her son-in-law’s words,” She had the courage to fight for change when everything feels unchangeable.”

For me, Paki’s activism was a lesson in patriotism. I don’t mean blind obedience and “my country right or wrong.”  Paki called out the perpetrators of human suffering, whether in the chambers of the U.S. Senate, L3Harris technologies, or Gaza. Her life was an inspiration for all who believe in the right to “life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness.” The Valley has been rich with memorable activists, like Paki Wieland, Frances Crowe, Marty Nathan, and others, driven to raise their voices against oppression. Their memories are a blessing for all of us.

My parents came to the United States seeking refuge after the Holocaust. Their lives instilled in me the desire to do my part to keep this country headed on a path toward “liberty, and justice for all.” In these dark times, it’s easy to give in to feelings of helplessness and hopelessness. Can we mark the 250th birthday of this imperfect country by recommitting to stay the course, knowing some of us, like Paki, won’t live to see the changes we are fighting for? Can this white-haired activist keep struggling with the hope that the next generations will continue? In these treacherous times, there are no guarantees that democracy will take an upward trajectory toward justice. Clearly, however, if we don’t defend our country against tyranny, all will be lost.

We must relentlessly counter efforts to erase the past by replacing historical fiction with  facts. We must tell the truth in our homes and in our schools, no matter how painful. In the words of Nikole Hannah-Jones, author of The 1619 Project,  “… I’ve never had someone walk away and say they hate this country. They say they’re ashamed of things this country has done, that they’re deeply disappointed, and they want to see the country be better.”

“By believing passionately in something that still does not exist, we create it. The nonexistent is whatever we have not sufficiently desired.” — Franz Kafka

What is your American dream?

Looking for Semiquincentennial 250 inspiration? Come to Historic Northampton on July 5 for a public reading of Frederick Douglas’ Fourth of July speech.

Details: https://www.historicnorthampton.org/reading-frederick-douglass-together.html

Welcome our newest American citizens at the July 4 Naturalization Ceremony.  Details: https://cnam.org/18th-annual-july-4th-ceremony/.

Sara Weinberger lives in Easthampton.