The War for (in)Dependence
What we must free ourselves from, and what we should never be independent of
A New Declaration
by Joanna Chin

The 4th of July advances,
redwhiteblue banners and Old Navy flag shirts and
holiday discounts and rehearsals of America the
Beautiful, and full of
wonder I used to be at the prospect of patriotism because
this land is my land, soil I’ve tilled between my fingers, waters willed
to greet my grandparents at their shores,
assuring them of melting pot-spilling possibilities when they
arrived from the Caribbean in the 60s.
they would help build an America that was proud
to be diverse, loud in its declarations of freedom for
all, crowded with clamors of all tongues rising in
jubilant cacophony, hope swollen like ripe mangoes bought
from a sidewalk stand, brown practiced hands
cradling their curves as they cross the space to waiting
palms—this crossing is an America, a slant of light
upon water, a minuscule move towards bridging
what we were promised and who we long to be.
***
my stomach twists as my phone screen scrolls on
with heady, panicked headlines.
what we call Beautiful gapes like a scrape of rotted
paper ripped away from its wall, revealing the crumbled
brick. sickened, I press fingertips together to pray again as if
the pressing could form a barricade against a future where
those sick and elderly and defenseless are abandoned to unfunded decay,
where we fund ways to export absolutism to lands we seek
to add our colonialist market portfolio while our ports and prisons
arecrammedwiththeDeported—our idolization of borders
like a skin that has gripped
our flesh for too long.
***
what we have billed Beautiful is an America
stilled
waters bogged in bigotry as ICE binds brown hands, readying
for the cages gleefully erected to protect US we are told—
but who will US be anymore?
if not the Indigenous peoples we claim when convenient
and cold-shoulder when their demand for robbed land
returned requires our humble submission;
if not the vulnerable asylum-seekers
and oppressed masses we welcomed once;
if not the sea-crossers and air-sailors
we counted in Census and applauded in school
multicultural day fairs; if not for the migrants we
invited to farm our fields and fill our bellies then
emptied out as if waste; if not the taste of pride
on the tongues of new applicants for citizenship
seeking reunion with family, access
to employment and b r o a d e n e d free-doms, new
realms to inhabit with us; if not those born within the borders
we made; if not those we call natural-ized….
then who is US anymore?
***
a country for sale to billionaire bidders
rights-rid
truths-hid
is not one I need to reclaim, not when peoples like threads
are removed from the weave; our government sieves
us, leaves us to scrap together our livelihoods, keeps
those they have decided are desirable.
(and they are not Brown or Black like me)
“if you comply and compose yourself, we will
permit you to stay”
> the way to Death
paves itself in broadcasts that say we are saved
in our unity, “petty” differences put aside—
if we subscribe to this story of prosperity
we preserve our nation.
Death clicks its claws beneath the speeches,
waiting. will we surrender
to the promises of the powerful,
facts unchecked, anxieties soothed
as our national affairs are settled at auction? will
what we hope to gain in security suffice
when at stake are the ties of our souls
to each other, the recognition that violence
against one member wounds
US all. will we consume comfort and believe ourselves
united when our complicit silence arms the very hands who
bludgeon the once-beloved humans whose presence
colors in the definition of our diversity.
what is the minimum level of crime or misdemeanor
they commit that will permit us to
dispose of them and call it triumph?
***
our silence will be
a declaration of independence from one another.
they will remember how some of US,
entrenched in righteous crusade, chose
absolution
from the Christ-charged responsibility:
to provide for our neighbors
to open our homes as havens for the needy
to pursue others’ needs above our own.
***
instead fears of a threatened American Way of Life were sown,
and our land withered, our seas spent as we sent
our empathy to drift far from our silver shores.
our ships and planes became graves for deported dreamers.
***
they will say some of US were afraid and
listened to fears. they chose to love
only those made in their image—
the appropriation of Imago Dei to Imago Death
complete. what can compete
with worship of a pure, purged
Promised Land?
Let America be the dream the dreamers dreamed—
Let it be that great strong land of love
Where never kings connive nor tyrants scheme
That any man be crushed by one above.(It never was America to me.)
This day awakens such twisted tension in me. I live in the United States and check off American in the boxes presented to me. I am proud when we win athletic medals, stir in stadiums when anthems soar, read our stories and what has been rendered possible by those who came before me.
But I am constantly reminded that our nation was birthed in violence. The word “project” often used to name the notion of our country’s animation is too tame, too permissive in its self-congratulation of our supposed-engineering spirit, to hold the truth of all we are. It is insufficient to capture the atrocities committed to clear the land of so many of its original inhabitants, manufacture the infrastructure of our industries with the labor of enslaved peoples, create and re-create an American identity that keeps preoccupying itself with who should be included and imprisoned and driven out in every era our country has existed.
We continue to wreak violence upon one another. Our government is installing prisons to pen immigrants. Our forests and mountains and meadows are up for auction again and again for future exploitation. Trans peoples are scapegoated as a threat to American culture while the greed of corporate interests actually preying upon vulnerable peoples goes unchecked. Citizenship is no longer a guarantee of protection, a right to reside without being snatched off the streets without warning.
I don’t blame anyone who is angry today, grieving today, feeling helpless today or still trying to identify some way to celebrate the country they are a part of. We can give each other space for all of these emotions and more.
As we contemplate the ongoing story of Turtle Island and the labels and borders and laws applied to its latitude, the suffering co-mingling with resilient joy, my hope is that we will renew our commitment to take responsibility for each other’s needs and work collaboratively and persistently so no one among us goes hungry, thirsty, unclothed, and unprotected. Our government will not save us, and we are also not called to save ourselves as isolated units out of our own resources. I believe God equips us with the fortitude, wisdom, and endurance to link with fellow image-bearers and push back against the constant tide of evil. Despair is not our master.
So today, ask for the discernment you need as you locate yourself within the great struggles of your time, and then obediently take action as God calls you. Draw near to your loved ones and uplift them (allow them to uplift you too—receive their care as a gift). Celebrate the space you share together, laugh, eat, and release your held breaths. We need your breathing, beautiful self fully with us.
Resist the temptation to use language that will render another person less than human and worthy of mockery.
Resist language that leverages other oppressive modes of thought (ex. fatphobia, ableism) in reference to another human being.
Resist language that minimizes the harm others are experiencing, especially if you not are the direct target of it.
Resist all efforts that try to rationalize inhumane treatment of your neighbor.
The skies above us are still spacious; let us unfurl our hopes upon their sprawl and keep. on. moving. We declare our independence from the regimes of self-interest, self-protection, and self-aggrandizement. We declare ourselves dependent on one another, interconnected in our function and flourishing, and united in hope.