Tomorrow is the 150th Anniversary of Frederick Douglass' classic oratory "The Meaning of the Fourth of July for the Negro" at an event commemorating the signing of the Declaration of Independence.
On July 5, 1852 in Rochester, New York, he delivered this incendiary speech (considered by many historians to have been the single most effective and important speech denouncing slavery and advocating emancipation given before the Civil War) to what I'm sure was an unsuspecting audience in the town's historic Corinthian Hall (which later closed in 1923). There is an audio recording available for purchase.
Today is July 4, 2002. Like Frederick, I must reiterate that "This Fourth of July is yours, not mine. You may rejoice, I must mourn." I can't even begin to profess an ability to mourn that reflects the response of Mr. Douglass and others of his age to the heinous tragedies that they experienced first-hand, but I see the echos and ripples of those very tragedies and similar ones evident in our society today. In considering what the Fourth means to me, I'm beginning to construct a pride in America that's based not on any ridiculously blind patriotism, but that's based on the love, determination and survival of my ancestors. Michael Henry Adams said to me yesterday, as we were perusing books, "Unlike you, I also claim my white ancestors." He does have a point, and that will indeed prove itself to be a difficult proposition.
