Emily Articulated: Freedom

By Emily Erickson
Reader Columnist

It’s Fourth of July week, and I watch familiar scenes unfold like a Wes Anderson film, one whip pan after another. The woman stocking up on cheese in the refrigerator aisle, the boy grabbing handfuls of sparklers while surreptitiously eyeing a large Roman candle, the man heaving another bag of charcoal into his cart, and a solitary stars-and-stripes napkin package remaining on the shelves. Then there’s me, a trazodone prescription for my dog in one hand and a dictionary in the other — the camera suddenly static as I silently mouth the word “freedom,” its definition pinned beneath my thumb.

That definition reads, “Freedom is the power to act, speak or think as one wants, without hindrance or restraint.” 

It’s a simple enough idea when considered on its own. I’m free to guzzle as much coffee as I’d like, jitters-be-damned, because I’m an adult (albeit one in denial of caffeine contributing to my anxiety). I’m unrestrained in my ability to sit in this cafe and write my thoughts on the page; unhindered in my all-caps exclamation that FIREWORKS SHOULD BE LIMITED TO ONE DAY PER YEAR, because I’m a curmudgeon, goddamnit, and I have a right to my own opinion.

But that freedom gets complicated when considered in relation to others’. My freedom to drink coffee stops at my ability to pay for it, and my freedom of expression extends only as far as someone else’s right to exist peacefully (because how long could I get away with shouting these words into someone’s face instead of typing them before I am restrained, if not physically, then through the shame of public reproach?).

There’s an overlap between personal freedom and the liberties it removes from others in my taking it. This makes the concept of personal freedom held by all — the power to act, think and speak without restraint, regardless of its effect on others — paradoxical by definition. 

Yet, we hold this shaky idea of freedom as though it were concrete, or simple, and compensate for the contradiction by ascribing hierarchy to its application. (This is freedom and that is something else). We marry “freedom” with larger ideologies to create a sense of which freedoms are most important, and to whom they should apply — adding asterisks to liberties based on personally held beliefs.

“Freedom of choice,” *unless you’re choosing to marry a person of the same sex.

“Freedom of bodily autonomy,” *unless you’re changing your appearance to match your gender.

“Freedom to quality health care” *unless you have complications requiring an abortion.

“Freedom to bear arms,” *unless you’re a Black man in a public space.

“Freedom to an education,” *unless you’re learning LGBTQIA or social justice themes, but the Bible is OK.

People bang the drums of freedom, without stopping to question if their version of it is warped by other systems of belief. Instead, they draw a hard line around their interpretation, exclaiming, “If you don’t like it, you can leave,” making their claim on freedom a requirement for being a “good American.”

But I don’t think patriotism was meant to be donned like the jersey of my favorite sports team  — blindly and unconditionally — without a constant evaluation of our ideals (especially freedom) and how they fit into the paradigm of an ever-changing society. 

The United States was founded on the principles of liberty, opportunity, democracy, rights and equality, and we do those principles a disservice by reducing them to their simplest conception, making them static by encircling them with unrelated or conflicting belief systems.

Instead, when those principles by which we define ourselves as “Americans” are understood as aspirational moving targets toward which we should always recalibrate — always expand to include more people, more exhaustively — then we can reframe what being a “good American” looks like. 

A “good American” becomes someone who believes in our founding principles, expects our leaders to uphold them and holds those leaders accountable when they fall short. They’re a person who can have beliefs while still questioning how those beliefs affect others’ liberties. They’re a person who understands that more people in conversation makes the most representative, collective voice, and they’re a person who believes that freedom is best — and most potent — when shared.

Emily Erickson is a writer and business owner with an affinity for black coffee and playing in the mountains. Connect with her online at www.bigbluehat.studio.