In your mind, you picture today going differently. On a day that marks The United States of America’s 250th year of independence, you can’t help but imagine something a bit more… unified. Growing up, I was taught several myths about the country that I call home that have been formative to how I view its potential. We are the great American melting pot. Bring us your tired, your poor, your huddled masses. We are working to form a more perfect union. The founding fathers created a living, breathing document, meaning we should be self-aware enough to continually work towards improving the freedoms originally laid out in 1776: life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness. These go through your mind as you contemplate what such a significant milestone should symbolize to the greater public. Is that picture being honest?
That answer will ultimately be left up to you.
My difficulty with answering the question boils down to current events. Today is one so intertwined with historical acknowledgements that it almost contradicts what celebration has looked like on a federal level. At this point, Washington, D.C. has stood as a monument to democracy so long that certain iconography can’t help but derive emotions. For centuries now, I’ve heard stories about life-changing events taking place on that soil and believed that it was all part of a greater foundation. You see the pictures and read textbooks, and there’s this recognition that change doesn’t happen overnight. The great presidents found a way to strike hope in the country during tough times.
Beyond any political differences I may face with the current administration, what makes today difficult to grapple with is the disagreement around what should be preserved. The simple act of denying any wrongdoing is enough to poke holes in character, let alone line The White House with hyperbolic essays about the few men who lead the office. On a day like today, there should be more celebration of our ability to hold conflict without it tearing us apart. It’s part of the DNA that the country was founded on, even dramatized in works like the musical 1776. Disagreement may be in our bones, but compromise is what has built the country’s unique national identity.
Which is why I look at current events and feel a desire to be immediately dismayed by what I see. The East Wing was torn down to make way for a ballroom whose design is at odds with the original building that will one day sit in its shadow. Given its status as the people’s entrance, it removes a sense of welcome that has long been apparent but never this symbolically. From there, it becomes concern around adding then removing illegally placed names from government buildings while doing a renovation job on The Reflecting Pool, which has led to over a month now of controversy from the ineffective paint job to the growth of algae and dead ducks. There’s talk of arches being built to be 250 feet that would completely reshape the view of D.C. and, again, create a dissonance from existing architecture.
It would be one thing to dedicate this essay to everything that I personally disagree with in terms of the current political landscape. However, I think that highlighting the iconography that was supposed to be our memorials to our past and reflect our continuing endurance feels more fitting. Not only does it lose a significant piece of tourism for Americans around the country (and visitors from abroad), but it causes despair. On July 4, 2026, there should’ve been more emphasis on the landmarks, the recognition that history has always been a collective experience. It should be a chance to walk by The Lincoln Memorial and take a picture overlooking The Reflecting Pool while talking about Martin Luther King Jr.’s “I Have A Dream” speech. There should be emphasis on pride that goes beyond any prop for America 250.
This is not meant to be an attack on The Capitol’s state fair, which seems perfectly quaint and a recognizable American pastime. However, I think the low attendance and desire to recontextualize its success speak to where we are now. People will celebrate in their own way. Fireworks will be shot off. Somebody will inevitably take to the trombone and play some Sousa. You will have a barbecue while somebody wears that red-white-and-blue hat. We will celebrate, but the effort to celebrate the history isn’t there in large part because it’s disappearing, being denied, written by winners who called their preceding winners losers. There’s almost a shame in the rhetoric that, before January 2025, America was “dead.” It’s a message that’s so commonplace that it was even delivered at an Easter Egg roll in front of families who, again, just want to invest in the novelty of fun Americana.
By shifting the narrative from the group to the self, most of the significance is lost. As much as one can take joy in the iconography and believe that this is the greatest country in the world, hearing your leader say that almost half of the past decade was a complete mess is not the heartwarming unifier that we hope for. If anything, culture is looking at landmarks right now and laughing. They’re laughing at the algae and pseudo-fascistic-looking Eagle decoration that now hangs on The White House. It’s very much a day sabotaged by one man’s selfishness, which continues to turn The Capitol into an industrial park that’s gilded in an unholy shade of gold.
I recognize that nothing lasts forever. Efforts to preserve the past can sometimes prove faulty, though it often comes from a place of love and concern. In the modern age, I’ve watched California lose many landmarks from wildfires. It doesn’t make them less valuable to history, but there is something gut-wrenching about not having that physical connection to something your grandparents (or further back) were able to access. There’s this shared appreciation of being able to weather storms and find new ingenuity. Every idea had to have an origin, and America has had millions that have made this place better. So long as they float in the air, they will hold meaning. Even so, the idea that many places are being lost to freak acts of nature raises the question of how their honor should be considered. Do we memorialize in some other way, or document a history before we lose the last observers? So much comes down to remembering what this place was. It may cause places to feel closer to ghost stories, but it’s important nonetheless to know that they were there. That may be why I’m curious to see what comes of Billy Crystal’s upcoming show 860, which chronicles his personal experiences losing his home in The Palisades Fire in 2025. It may not bring back what was lost, but it may immortalize what’s important, whether it be internal or external.
How we talk about the monuments says a lot about how everything else is considered. Right now, I’m still trying to overcome constant emotion that Washington, D.C., a place I grew up learning about as the land of great potential, is currently diminishing in ways that I had assumed would be unfeasible. I felt this last year as many laws within The Constitution were dismissed for selfish gains. It made me ponder how many of these are just ideas we assumed were impenetrable but were always capable of wilting. In some respect, a monument is even flimsier because a bulldozer can move it. Algae can cover it. Everything symbolic is fallible.
As much as it sounds like I’m being critical, I love America. It has given me a lot of opportunities to follow my pursuits and discover many wonderful perspectives. While I may disagree with a lot of its pageantry, I still respect everyone’s right to fly the flag and sing the anthem with their full chest. It’s part of our identity. It’s shameless and fun. There’s an eagerness to believe that tomorrow is going to give a bright future. The best of us will acknowledge that the road there hasn’t always been perfect. And yet, we keep trying to get there one step at a time.
My ultimate request is less to agree with me that tearing down The East Wing is an unforgivable crime. It may mean something completely different to you. However, I ask that you consider the nuances of history and know that nothing happens in a vacuum. We are always building to something else. Books, whether fiction or biographical, hold ideas that allow us to consider the expansive potential of this nation. It’s a place of innovators who found something meaningful in its miles of road and decided to sacrifice other dreams for that potential. The stories may not always line up with immediate success, but they hopefully build lessons and enhance the tapestry of what it means to be American.
I suppose the perfect antithesis to my struggles with the current outlook is to witness how visitors are feeling about America. FIFA is currently hosting The World Cup in many major cities. Their joy at the various novelties says a lot about how beautiful everything can be if we set aside differences. This is the land of opportunity. For generations, it was a place to start anew. As much as that story is attempting to be rallied up in vans by unidentified agents, I’m keeping my fingers crossed that it will outlast the current dilemma. After all, this is a country that solved so many other problems before and is capable of resolving many, many more. It only feels right that everyone gets to take a corny picture in front of The White House and not feel bad about what others think it means.
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