I remember the first time I refused to stand for the national anthem.

It was a slow process, starting back in elementary school when I decided to omit the words “under God” from my recital of the Pledge of Allegiance. I still stood and faced the flag each morning, hand on my heart, and spoke the rest of the words in unison with my classmates.

“One nation...indivisible, with liberty and justice for all.”

I’m sure some of my classmates noticed my edit to the forcefully memorized pledge, but nobody brought it up to me. I did draw actual stares when I refused to utter any of the words, and even more so when I chose to remain seated.

If people asked why I stayed silently seated, I simply told them that I didn’t believe in the pledge. This was true.

I firmly believe that there is no liberty nor justice for Americans other than those that are white, Christian, straight, cisgender and male, and I will defend this to my grave.

I do, however, hope we can at least make some progress before then. What I didn’t tell them was that the proclamation of dedication to one’s country forced upon children to recite reminded me chillingly of the tactics of the Nazi regime.

This scared me, even at a young age.

As a Jew, I did my due diligence in Holocaust studies.

I managed to convince myself that that was in the past, that we’d moved forward. Now, as I see the so-called alt-right (read: Neo-Nazis) waving swastikas and preaching about a desire to kill all Jews, I realize I was gravely mistaken.

I can watch as many episodes of John Oliver and Trevor Noah as I please, but the humor only provides a momentary distraction from the reality of the situation: I am unsafe in the country I grew up in. Every time I turn on the news, I am bombarded by new horror stories. Charlottesville-esque riots are erupting across the nation, yet another unarmed person of color has fallen victim to police brutality, and even more minority rights are being stripped away.

I remember when I sat down during the national anthem at my high school graduation. I’d stood silent during the pledge, if only to make my subsequent sitting down more noticeable. It was definitely an imitation of Colin Kaepernick’s kneeling, although I, unfortunately, didn’t have the space nor flexibility in my cap and gown to actually get down on one knee. My action was still noticeable, much to my happiness, especially because my friend in the front row did the same. The crowd (as well as fellow students on stage with me) erupted into whispers, both in praise and outrage towards us.

To me, this translates into success.

I’m not naive; my action didn’t magically cure the abundance of inequalities in our country, nor did I expect it to. I recognize the need to continue to attend protests, spread news that isn’t fake and educate others. I simply aimed to open up a dialogue, and whether that dialogue takes place in the form of an uncomfortable dinnertime rant or classmate gossip session, I did my job.

So I’ll continue to sit during the national anthem and Pledge of Allegiance in the hopes that one day, there really will be liberty and justice for all.