Yesterday we celebrated our freedom.
My dearest friends John and Peter had their annual 4th of July barbecue. As usual, I was the only female amidst a roomful of fit and lively gay men – a gender balance that, living in Washington, I find delightfully rare. But we had some new and diverse energy in the mix this time: a Venezuelan man I’ve been seeing for about a month, a naturalized American citizen, as well as my friends’ adopted son Issac, and Mate, an exchange student from Hungary who’s staying in Washington for the summer. As we gathered around munching chips with guacamole and waiting for the coals to heat up, it was this inquisitive young man clutching his video camera who asked:
What does this day mean to you?
It’s was a poignant question – I’m a sucker for a good question - and got a tiny instantaneous crush on this youthful mop-headed visitor.
Hot dogs, said Redhead Bill.
Singing Ethel Merman show tunes in bed, said his partner Neil. (Followed by a few bars of There's No Business Like Show Business!)
Freedom, I responded to Mate, taking a more serious tact. From oppression…to self-govern…to self-express. To go your own way – and a willingness to fight for it. (To sing show tunes in bed.)
It sounded all too patriotic - and all of us agreed to wave Issac's little American flags as Mate's camera rolled - though I contend we are anything but a flag-waving bunch.
It's just that Freedom has a very personal side to it – and that’s what’s on my mind these days – as I set off to join the Peace Corps mission in Mexico in just six weeks!
It's a decision that's been weighing heavily as I try to begin to let go of all I have here in Washington. Though I know how fortunate I am to be able to exercise my freedom to go – to make this shift in my life – to cross a border and be accepted into someone else’s country (not to have to swim across or scale a wall!) To be supported and encouraged by my friends and family. To know I’m leaving so much behind – yet trusting that it will be here for me when I return.
And yet, while I wouldn’t give up my freedom for anything, I feel the weight of it at times – the sense of obligation to do something useful and profound and liberating with it. And so I uproot myself once again and go to Mexico – because I CAN.
And why else? Perhaps I hope to discover some deeper freedom – a kind the forefathers have nothing to do with – some freedom from my own internalized oppression. Letting go of the old ‘supposed to be’ ways.
Hombre, if I could do this in the Peace Corps, if I could bring my best, most open and true Self to this adventure – I WILL be free.
Back to the Hungarian kid … born in 1990, not long after the Berlin Wall came down...I wonder what freedom means to him. He’s here in the USA for the summer, being welcomed into a loving if not unconventional American home, teaching film at a youth camp, and wandering the streets of Washington with his handheld camera.
What might he have to say about freedom by summer’s end… or just after he’s eaten his first bite of Bill's red, white and blueberry parfait?
I think the question of freedom is an age one that is crystal clear and simple to some and to others it deserves much thought and introspection.
ReplyDeleteAs I read your post, Anne, I couldn't help but notice the irony; Here you are in the midst of a roomful of gays, a Venezuelan man, and a young man from Hungary on the 4th of July. If that scene doesn't reek of freedom and American exceptionalism, then I don't know what does. The fact that an exchange student from Hungary can point a camera on the 4th of July and have the audacity to ask the question get's right to the core of what the 4th of July is really all about.
It's not just that we are free to be an American. We are simply free to be.
Yes, maybe that's what I was trying to say in all that parfait. Thanks for reflecting back, Dad. I'll definitely take that experience with me to Mexico. Saludos!
ReplyDelete