Just last week, I sat on a grassy field with thousands of other Americans, all wearing red, white, and blue. We celebrated a document that claimed all men were created equal, and entitled to life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness. Never mind that at its conception, the only people these rights applied to were white men from the British colonies. Times have changed since then, social action has been taken, and now, all human beings in the United States are free, right? How could they not be? I mean, I was sitting there amongst a diverse group of people, all different, all getting along. I, a Mexican-American young woman was living on my own in a big city, attending a great university, where I would receive a degree that would give me access to a successful career in the future. Based on these facts alone, I have received the rights I am entitled to according to my country of birth. The real question is, does possessing these rights make me just as free as anyone else?
Just the other day, I made sure I had my pepper spray before I took off for work. There are a lot of people out during the day, but sometimes I walk back alone late, and the men that linger around don't always make me feel safe. That morning, I checked the news on my phone, praying that I wouldn't find another headline with more gunfire and fatalities (not that it would surprise me much anymore). Gather any group of people around in a large mass and they fear for their lives, regardless of their race, gender, sexuality, or religion. Instead, I find more updates on Trump's campaign. He's targeting another group that doesn't conform to his Christian, non-white, cisgendered male standards. Shocking.
During my lunch break, I walk down the street with my headphones on so I can't hear the catcalls that accompany men's lingering eyes in broad daylight. With guilt, I use my sunglasses to avoid eye contact with the homeless I pass by. I tell them truthfully that I have no money to offer. The amount I receive in grants and scholarships is not even enough to cover my tuition, and that does not include books, housing, transportation, and groceries. Because of the color of my skin and my lower economic status, some people seem to think I'm given things for free. The fact is, my brown skin is not a golden ticket to a free education. And I'm not poor, I'm not wealthy, I'm not even middle class. I'm unaccounted for, which means I'm on my own. Oddly enough, I am able to say this while wearing an Apple Watch and holding a $600 phone in my hand. But then again, the hungry homeless man I pass has a phone in his hand, too.
That night after work, I message one of my friends to ask how she's been. I know she has family members that aren't American citizens living in the U.S., and with so much at stake with this presidential campaign, she's been on edge. I don't blame her, as the rest of this year has become a waiting game for so many families across the U.S. Chances are if you live in a border town like the one I grew up in, you're bound to know someone who will be drastically affected in the months to come. I've got people to worry about too.
I worry all day, not just for my friends back home, but for all the people of color in my life who don't know if they'll make it back alive every time they step out their front door. I worry for all the girls and women around me who know that texting someone when you get home safe isn't enough anymore. I worry about the children that ask me if it will be safe to go to school this fall. I worry when I hear a child of color say they are scared of police officers, and I worry even more when I realize that in some cases, they have a right to be scared. I worry when the media forces people to take sides, as if there are only two options, and only one of them is right. I worry about getting shot while at church, school, work, concerts, even while I sat on that beautiful green field watching the fireworks up in the sky, I worried. I'm sure everyone around me was worried too, regardless of their privileges in life, they all had a reason to be.
To me, freedom means being able to walk down the street without a reasonable fear of the government and society you live in. If given that definition, I wonder exactly how many in that sea of red, white, and blue in Austin, Texas would claim we lived in the Land of the Free?
