The Force of July

by Fayeruz Regan 07.2026

The 4th of July continues to get weirder. That mix of nostalgia and shame stems from our dubious origins and is woven into our country's fabric. We're torn between two things: Optimism, which encourages patriotism; and authenticity, which shows the crack in the facade. 

Before the World Cup kicked off, FIFA was under fire for corruption. But as soon as the games kicked off, the focus shifted to the people. Suddenly, people around the world fell in love with America. They came expecting to be harassed by ICE agents and racist mouth-breathers, but instead found warm hearts, invitations to people's homes, and discovering the glory of ranch dressing. Even the TSA had to release a statement, warning travelers that they need to put the bottles of ranch in their checked bags – not their carry-ons.

Social media was flooded with heartwarming exchanges. Japanese visitors losing their minds over Texas barbecue and New Zealanders marveling at the beauty of Yosemite. They were amazed by cowboys on horseback in Texas, and the sheer size of Buccee's. Australians wandered agape inside Bass Pro Shops, Scotland's Tartan Army drank Boston dry, while Englanders couldn't get enough of Texas Roadhouse. 

It was best said like this: World Cup is like a sleepover with your cousins that you never get to see because the parents hate each other. Americans needed this. This rare praise feels like the first boost in a long line of betrayals. Americans have been embarrassed, silenced, censored, and beaten down in the streets for pointing out how un-American it all is. 

I grew up feeling indebted to this country, and lucky to be here. My family emigrated here from Palestine, escaping the violence and land theft by colonist settlers. They wanted a better life, and got it.   My father got married, became a citizen, opened multiple restaurants and sent his daughters to college. We were thankful for this country's grace toward immigrants. On Independence Day, my father and his brothers would light M-80s on basketball courts in downtown Chicago. These fireworks are highly illegal and when they ignite sounds like an 18-wheeler being dropped from a skyscraper. The cops were in hot pursuit, and my father and his brothers would yank my cousins and I into dark alleys, waiting until they passed. Then they'd find a new basketball court and repeat. It felt normal until I grew up and realized my parents were just kids. Criminal activity aside, they celebrated America's birthday with gusto.  

Now everyone is self-conscious in how they present their patriotism, as it could reflect their values.  I aim for the Martha Stewart version: homemade popsicles and fireworks from a boat. But I always go full Patrick Henry in the end. I'm in a very give-me-liberty-or-give-me-death place right now. Whereas Patrick Henry will always be remembered as a visionary, the less curious among us would label me a heretic were I to go to Church Hill and lament the ills plaguing our government. The less curious cling to the status quo, perceiving new ideas as a threat. Others feel that the status quo is due for an upgrade, like Patrick Henry did.   

There has always been a dichotomy at play. Even if the only thing you know about the beginning of this country comes from Hamilton the musical, it's undeniable that our founding fathers were brilliant. They were also slaveholders. 

We know better than to believe that we discovered this country, as the Indigenous Americans were already here, and the “we” refers to the European colonizers, not us.  But in the same breath, the birth of this nation is rooted in its rebellion to colonialism and  monarchy. Like me, they believed in “no taxation without representation.” I share those exact thoughts about a foreign government stealing our money. 

As of late, people seem to think the American flag is a sign of aggression and racism. In an effort to reclaim the idealism, I hung one from my front porch. I had a friend come over, and the first thing she said to us, was, “You have to take that flag down.” Like me, she's been feeling let down by politicians playing to their donors instead of their constituents. I feel her frustration about political greed and public ignorance. But I told her I was keeping the flag. “I”m reclaiming it!” I said. It's been flying in my yard for years. Right next to our Free Palestine sign. That is the kind of America I'm fighting for.