It’s Still There
The banner yet waves
Every once in a while, it strikes me again that The Star-Spangled Banner is a song that asks a question. The lyrics aren’t stating something definite. The singer isn’t proclaiming something that is absolutely true. When we sing our national anthem, we are always asking our listeners, and ourselves, if in fact the flag is still waving.
O! say can you see, by the dawn’s early light,
What so proudly we hailed at the twilight’s last gleaming,
Whose broad stripes and bright stars through the perilous fight
O’er the ramparts we watched were so gallantly streaming?
And the rockets’ red glare, the bombs bursting in air
Gave proof through the night that our flag was still there;
O! say does that star-spangled banner yet wave
O’er the land of the free and the home of the brave?
It’s a beautiful song, but how often do we really stop to think about what it means? Most of us have probably learned the story behind it in school (if you haven’t or it’s been a while, here’s the Wikipedia page). It helps to know that. But even if you don’t know much about that, the lyrics alone are worth thinking about.
Depending on the day or the moment we’re in, there’s a lot of different ways to interpret the question the song is asking us. It can ask us if the flag is still waving because we as a nation are still standing unconquered. Or it can ask, is that flag still a symbol of the things we love about America? The American people, the values we hold dear (freedom, justice, fairness, equality, honor, courage, etc.), the people who have fought and died for our country, the land itself- do we as a nation honor and respect those things the way they deserve? Is the land the flag waves over truly free? Is this land truly the home of the brave? Do we live up to those ideals of freedom and bravery, and not just in pretty words? Are we fighting to protect them when people who don’t care about them try to take them away?
I’ve spent the last few days since the No Kings protests on June 14th basking in the glow after seeing millions of people come together to remind each other what America really is. We’re not glitzy gold phones and tanks rolling down the street. We’re not tear gas and rubber bullets. We’re not red hats and campaign merch. We’re not “freedom for me but not for thee” or “those people don’t belong here” or “go back to Mexico.” There are painful and very real parts of our history when people thought that that’s what America is about, and that what makes America great is who and what we exclude and keep out. That we have to wall America off from the rest of the world because we need to keep the good things we have all to ourselves or we’ll lose them. More for us, not for “them.” But time and time again we’ve proved those people wrong. We’ve grown. And we’re a messy, beautiful place that will never be perfect, but can always be better.
Last weekend I was reminded that there is always hope for something better, no matter how much some people want to stop us from trying to make America a place where everyone can thrive, not just some of us. Last weekend I stood with thousands of my neighbors along the main street in my city, waving our signs and our flags and chanting that we don’t have a king, that this is what democracy looks like. Hundreds of cars, if not thousands, drove by and honked to show support for us. The drivers waved and smiled, cheered and laughed, raised their fists in solidarity and threw peace signs and gave us a thumbs-up. Some of them had signs in their windows, flags waving, or messages painted on their cars that also reminded us that we don’t do kings in America. The people I stood with, and the people who cheered for us, were from all races, ethnicities, social classes. I’m sure we all had different religious beliefs, and some of us voted for different parties in the last election. But we were all Americans, because we all recognized that we live in a free country, we bow to no king, and we are all neighbors, all created equal with inalienable human rights. Skin color, voting record, where you were born, what languages you speak, where your family is from, how much money you make- none of that mattered. We were all united in the belief that there is good in this country, in its people, and in the values we’ve written into our Constitution, and that those things are worth fighting for.
There were people there who had never been to a protest before. There were people who’ve been protesting for years to fight for things in our country to be better than they were “back then.” There were people whose parents were the first in their family to come to America. There were some, like me, whose families have been here for several generations. There were young people my age, elders my grandparents’ age, families who brought their kids (or drove by with their kids in their cars). Our differences didn’t put barriers between us- they made the experience more beautiful. We came together to stand up for our neighbors, our community, and for the land that we love. We demanded better from our government than a vanity parade. We demanded better from our country than what it is today, because we love this place we call home. And we want the next generation to live in a better world than the one we’re living in today.
The thing I will never forget is the smiles on the faces of the people around me. There were people who were so happy to find others to stand with that felt the way they feel about America. There were people who were angry and scared and frustrated before they showed up that day, and now they couldn’t stop smiling. There were kids that drove by smiling and waving, so happy to see us even if they didn’t quite understand what was happening. Some clearly did, and they looked so proud. There were workers who drove by, clearly on their way to do the hard jobs that many Americans don’t care to do, who were beaming and waving as they passed. Some people just waved and had a quiet grin on their faces as they passed us, almost like they were sharing a secret with us. A trio of bike riders rode past and high-fived the crowd as they went on their way. Dogs leaned out of car windows and made us all go “awwww!” as we watched them drive by. An unmarked police car drove by us at one point and beeped its siren at us for a moment. But the cops inside were grinning from ear to ear, and one of them loudly cheered for us. They were on our side. Occasionally a supporter of the regime passed by and waved their middle fingers at us, or flaunted massive “Trump 2024” flags in our faces. We just laughed. It seemed so petty and childish, compared to the thousands of us waving our American flags and Pride flags and Mexican flags and one or two Palestinian flags. No one was bothered by them, because we knew now that we outnumbered them. They could yell and taunt us all they wanted. They could throw the middle finger at our American flags all they wanted. They will never take away what that flag symbolizes, or what it means to us. Their foolish pettiness just reminded us that they’ve already lost. And the ideals we fight for- freedom and justice and equality and kindness and honesty and honor and compassion- will always win in the end.
My city’s not the only one where people stood up to show the world that they still believe in America- the real America. There were about 20,000 people in Phoenix, Arizona who stood up to fight back in my home state. There were millions in other big cities. There were regime supporters there too, and some tried to pick a fight. Some tried to resort to violence to prove us wrong. But it didn’t work. People ignored them. Americans sang “America the Beautiful” in front of them, played Bella Ciao in their faces to remind them who they are, waved the American flag to remind them who it really belongs to. In little red towns where everyone knows everyone, neighbors got together to stand on street corners and show the rest of their neighbors they won’t be silent. And so many of their neighbors cheered them on. Even in places like Coeur d’Alene, Idaho where protestors faced armed regime supporters, they came out and spoke up anyway. There was even a little town called Harrison in Arkansas, a hub for violent white supremacist groups, where 200 people gathered to publicly stand up and reject hatred and tyranny. Taking a stand this way takes real courage, real guts. These patriots and wonderful humans may have been afraid, but they stood up anyway because they knew it was the right thing to do. Their courage is what we all need, and what we should all aspire to.
I am so grateful for the people who stood beside me in my city that day. I’m so grateful for my fellow Americans who have my back from sea to shining sea. And I’m so grateful that so many of them brought their flags- American and others too. I’ve found myself driving around my city over the last week and realizing that I don’t constantly wonder who my neighbors voted for when they fly the American flag outside their houses. I passed that flag and watched it wave in the breeze, and I felt proud of it again. I remembered the good things it stands for, and the people who love it and love what America really is. Now I get excited to see the flag again. I get excited to sing the national anthem. It makes me proud and happy to see that flag again. It’s a feeling I thought I’d lost over the last several months, as people who don’t have a clue what that flag really stands for tried to claim it belongs to them. But it belongs to us- to Americans. All of us.
Last weekend gave me hope. It showed me that despite all the insanity and chaos the regime has tried to shove in our faces and taunt us with, it will lose. Chaos and hate and selfishness will always lose, because freedom, justice, compassion, and all the other good things we believe in are better, and the American people are stronger. And our flag hasn’t fallen. It is still there. It still waves over us. This is still the land of the free. It is still the home of the brave. And God willing, it will be for many, many generations to come.