Friday is the 249th anniversary of the signing of the Declaration of Independence.
Ocean State Stories asked a sampling of Rhode Islanders what freedom means to them today. Here’s what they said:
— Kelli J. Armstrong, president of Salve Regina University.
When I contemplate freedom, or being free, I think of the ability to express oneself fearlessly. A free society values human dignity; it accepts and celebrates individual differences and views them as a source of strength in a community. A free community is one that allows all members opportunities for advancement and provides avenues to improve lives, regardless of origin. Freedom creates boundless possibilities in expression, achievement and vision.
— Dr. Omar Bah, founder and Director of Programs, Refugee Dream Center.
Freedom to me is my ability to exist in an environment where my views are respected and not framed, canceled, or condemned based on my faith, beliefs, worldview, and values. Freedom, therefore, transcends the physical breakage of chains and shackles. It is about the feeling of belonging, safety, and the ability to live authentically without the conditions of societal judgment or political correctness. Feelings of freedom means not living life in a society whereas I look over my soldier for fear due to the color of my skin, the neighborhood I live in or visit, my religion, political and/or social opinions.
— Claudia Cardozo, founder and principal, InnateFive.
After years of living in survival mode and endless cycles of self-criticism, I’ve learned to navigate life differently. I’ve discovered an inner reservoir of resilience and self-compassion to navigate life’s inevitable ups and downs. I’ve learned to observe my thoughts, realizing I don’t have to believe everything I think, and that I can consciously choose more empowering ones. This is my new freedom.
I’ve also learned I can reinvent myself as many times as life invites me to, embracing each new version as an opportunity for growth. I’m always in pursuit of what truly matters to me, becoming a better and more loving human being. I’m no longer caught up in a fixed story of Claudia Cardozo; instead, I know I’m in a constant process of evolving and becoming. That, too, is freedom for me.
Knowing I’ll never be “finished” in my evolution allows me to accept myself in the here and now. Embracing my imperfections allows me to create safe spaces for others to be exactly as they are in their own journey. Holding these safe spaces for others brings meaning and purpose to my life. Freedom is being at peace with my choices and embracing my place within our human family.
Today, I’m experiencing freedom not only within myself but also through the many heart-centered, conscious communities I belong to, where humanity, vulnerability, and authenticity are valued and celebrated.
— Fr. Marcel Taillon, pastor, Saint Thomas More Parish
As July 4th approaches and our world is under so much duress it is a great question to ponder for all Americans (what is freedom?). As a Catholic I value the freedom to practice religion freely. I do believe worshipping God freely is the greatest of all freedoms.
Rhode Island, the last holdout to sign the US Constitution makes us more keenly aware of the importance of the First Amendment. In the last years, sadly, many have mistaken the freedom of religion to be over interpreted as freedom from religion.
This county does not and should never establish a state religion, however, I fear that the modern era has redefined religion to mean private spirituality which is not the same thing. Our world today is experiencing so much violence and turmoil to be sure and sadly some of it is fueled by religious theological beliefs. We must all be careful to not let this cloud our understanding of our founders and what they envisioned as freedom of religion.
America remains a great experiment that is so young. The first amendment is first for a reason. We should all reflect as believers or non-believers why it is first. May freedom be experienced by all. God bless America.
— Sue Stenhouse, Chief Of Staff at Rhode Island House of Representatives Republican Office.
When approached with the question of “what does freedom mean to me today,” I needed to take a look back over my lifetime – my “freedom trail” — and ponder how I viewed liberty. Through this exercise, I learned how the sense of freedom evolves throughout a lifetime as the result of changing responsibilities and circumstances. I needed to reflect on my own experience to understand how I value and appreciate freedom presently.
For example, as a child growing up in the suburbs of Minneapolis, MN, I don’t think I ever felt as free as I did in the summertime – playing (unsupervised) from dawn to dusk with my neighborhood friends. We used our imaginations to expand physical boundaries and relished simple pleasures like climbing trees, building forts, riding bikes on wooded paths, producing plays in the garage, and lying in fields on our backs looking at puffy cloud formations in the sky. Even when we went up north to the cabin on the lake, we were free to entertain ourselves in this rustic environment with a whole new set of unvetted friends. The only time I felt restricted was when our night games of “Midnight, Moonlight” came to an abrupt halt for our strictly enforced bedtime.
The next significant memory on my freedom trail was when I turned 16 and obtained my drivers license. Exploring beyond the boundaries of my neighborhood was exhilarating, but now my freedom to move about was tempered with responsibility and the costs of maintaining a car. There were expectations to be met and rules to follow. Freedom, l learned, was parceled out in a balance.
I worked hard to earn the freedom of living on campus during college. It was exciting to explore my passions and discover new territory. It was thrilling to make my own decisions in regard to how I spent my time, but there were consequences. My studies, my job, my roommates, my family, my faith all had expectations I needed to meet and satisfy. I came to understand that I had the freedom to succeed or fail on my own terms. Freedom, I learned, was more than personal, it was a team sport.
The events of September 11, 2001, marked a turning point, transforming our once carefree society into one centered on security and vigilance. We unilaterally became willing to sacrifice a bit of personal freedom with security checks at airports and large venues for common good assurances. September 11th underscored the truth behind the patriotic saying “Freedom isn’t free,” revealing the stark reality that freedom must be actively defended – even within our own borders. Freedom, I learned, took great sacrifice and effort. It was a precious gift not to be taken for granted, especially by someone like me who was not on the front line defending it. Freedom encompasses much more than a show of patriotism on the 4th of July, it requires active and consistent involvement for preservation.
Another formative stop along my freedom trail, highlights my life in the public sector. Whether during my elected service as a Councilwoman in Warwick, my work in the Governor’s Administration, my role as a municipal department head, or my current position as Chief of Staff for the Rhode Island House Minority Caucus, I witnessed first-hand the impact taxes, fees, over-regulation and legislative policies have on the potential to constrain the independence of both citizens and commerce. At the top of the list was our government’s response to COVID. Restrictions on our freedom to assemble, freedom to worship, freedom from fear and want challenged our liberties in a new and unfamiliar way. I was in a position to question every decision and every policy – and I did. I was on the frontline trying to find answers and solutions for constituents who were trying to take care of their elders and the infirmed. I was seeking solutions for those who were learning they were losing their employment due to the lack of freedom to choose personal medical options. I was an advocate for teachers and parents who were helpless in the spiraling learning loss caused by the remote education policy. Freedom, I learned, could be crushed by those meant to protect it, unwilling to do what’s necessary for the benefit of their constituents (or when we abdicate our common sense). Preserving freedom, I learned, means demanding accountability from leaders and never shying away from asking the tough questions.
Last year, as one of my Dad’s caregivers, we had to make the heart-wrenching decision to take away his car keys (a form of freedom I cherished at 16) due his progressive dementia, and move him from his treasured home to assisted living. I witnessed, first-hand, his diminished spirit–demonstrated in both his eyes and demeanor –once his precious independence was gone. Living on his own terms was everything to him. When his freedom was gone, so was his will to flourish. Freedom, I learned, is a state of mind, a sense of comfort to have, but it is a burden for others to limit– even in the name of safety.
While I mention only a few examples, my freedom trail has provided me many lessons that I carry into the future. So, what does freedom mean to me today? It means having the confidence to pursue happiness and peace, the ability to conquer challenges, and the weight of knowing the impact I can have on others, while firmly grasping the sacrifices and responsibilities that go along with it.
Freedom, I learned during this reflection, has always been in my soul – it makes me feel alive. It is being able to genuinely speak and live my truth; it is about having the opportunity to engage with others to learn and grow from their diverse experiences. Freedom is about feeling safe and having control over my decisions. Freedom is my responsibility to protect and nurture – it is not guaranteed. It is an important legacy to create and sustain through an environment where all children have that same carefree feeling as I encountered. We are privileged to live surrounded by a multitude of diverse cultures and experiences –each with their own expression of freedom. I was blessed to be born in the United States and never experienced the struggles of the “huddled masses yearning to breathe free” – that is why I know that we must be vigilant to protect the American ideal, as the Freedom trail is always on the move.
— Thomas E. Heslin, Pulitzer Prize winning editor and retired executive editor of The Providence Journal.
Freedom is the world’s great divide, what separates the “haves” from the “have nots.”
Freedom is more precious than wealth, fame or power. Freedom is the fuel of liberty, learning and human rights. Freedom is our hope.
Freedom protects those who would challenge authority, right a wrong, ask a question, sing a song or stand in protest. Freedom protects the journalists, the scientists, the teachers and the preachers.
Societies without freedom rule by fear, live in ignorance, prosper by cruelty. But for those societies, time is borrowed; they never endure.
Freedom embraces peace and tolerates violence and war only when there is no other option. The celebration of war is not a hallmark of freedom. It is the quest for enduring peace that brings pride and prosperity to free societies.
The concept of freedom should be celebrated every day, and especially on the Fourth of July. Along with the fireworks, the flags, the parades, the pledges and the salutes, Americans should learn to stand and speak our essential truth, our foundation, our lasting hope for endurance and prosperity:
Congress shall make no law respecting an establishment of religion, or prohibiting the free exercise thereof; or abridging the freedom of speech, or of the press; or the right of the people peaceably to assemble, and to petition the Government for a redress of grievances.
That’s our First Amendment. That’s what freedom means to me.
— By Beth A. Bixby, CEO, Tides Family Services.
Freedom Isn’t Comfort––It’s Conviction
In this moment—when our country and world feel uncertain, and the weight of national and global conflict sits heavily on so many of our hearts—freedom is not a slogan. It’s a responsibility. It’s a value we must choose and work to uphold.
I think of my grandfather, a World War II prisoner of war, and my father, a Vietnam veteran. Their service came at a real human cost. My grandfather survived captivity in a German POW camp, carrying home invisible wounds. Back then, we didn’t have the right language for post-traumatic stress. Today, I see his experience mirrored in the young people we serve at Tides Family Services—kids who’ve lived through trauma, turbulence, and loss, and are trying to find a way forward.
As a social worker and the CEO of Tides Family Services, I’ve come to learn that freedom is the difference between a child getting help or falling through the cracks. It’s a teenager in crisis having someone in their corner. It’s a family being seen, heard, and supported—not judged or dismissed based on their background or circumstances.
At Tides, we don’t just talk about freedom—we work to make it real. Every day, we walk alongside so many of our state’s youth navigating systems that were never designed with them in mind, and challenges they didn’t choose, helping them find hope and stability. To me, that is an ultimate act of freedom: meeting people where they are and believing they are worth fighting for.
And freedom must be honest. It must acknowledge the ways in which our systems still fall short. I am a white woman, leading in spaces shaped by generations of inequity—poverty, racism, and systemic injustice. I don’t take that responsibility lightly. My Lasallian formation—grounded in faith, service, community, and social justice—has taught me that true freedom isn’t comfort or convenience. It’s a call to serve. It’s about standing in solidarity, using your voice when others can’t, and building communities that recognize the inherent worth of every individual.
Freedom, I’ve learned from this work—and through my family who served—is about a willingness to acknowledge and sit with the pain of others. It’s standing with our youth when they’re struggling—reminding them they are not alone. That they deserve support and safety.
As a mother, I think about the kind of freedom I want for my children: not just safety, not just the absence of barriers, but the presence of real opportunity, support, and success. Our youth all deserve freedom to build a better future.
Like many in Rhode Island, my family’s roots here run deep. My mother—a descendant of General Nathanael Greene and a proud member of the Daughters of the American Revolution—reflected our promise of liberty, justice and self-determination. But the freedoms men like Greene fought for didn’t extend to everyone—including women in their own families. Generations of women stood on the frontlines of sacrifice without ever being fully seen in the narrative of freedom they helped build. It reminds me that freedom has always been complicated—that it has never been fully delivered to all, and that our job is to keep working until it is.
In 2025, I believe freedom can often be found in the invisible labor of care, advocacy, and courage. It’s not comfort—it’s conviction. It’s the gritty, relentless work of building a community and society where no child or family is left behind.
And we cannot do this work alone. Across Rhode Island, I see social workers, teachers, caregivers, direct care staff, mentors, faith leaders, and community advocates—all answering that same call to serve. Their quiet acts of devotion and defense are the scaffolding of freedom.
So I ask: What does freedom require of us—right now?
Showing up. Speaking up. Standing in the gap for someone else. It might look like advocating for systems that serve all children, not just the lucky few.
That means investing in systems that affirm—not punish—vulnerable youth, from mental health to education to community safety.
Because freedom is not something we inherit—it’s something we build, together.
That is the freedom I fight for. And I believe it’s worth every step.
— Tyrone Smith, Army combat veteran and Director of Veteran Supportive Services, Operation Stand Down Rhode Island.
The Hive
Little yellow bodies, diving and dancing, scrambling in a controlled frenzy in and out of the hive. The adage busy as a bee fits nicely. They live in a 10 frame, bee box stacked four high, nestled amongst the bramble of vegetation that connects my backyard to a cleared pathway leading into the dense woods. I’m watching them navigate the hive against the backlit path, peppered with spots of sunlight. The trail bends into a thicket, rounding a bend before disappearing. It’s Juneteenth of 2025.
My wife and I have been beekeepers, or “bee havers,” for 3 years now. She reminds me, “You are only a beekeeper when you’ve been able to maintain a hive through the winter.” And she’s right. We have failed to maintain a hive through the cold months.
Pondering the meaning of freedom, I look to the hive as a metaphor for what that means to me.
I’m 42. I have two boys, 11 and 22, and have been married for 20 years. Yes, we planned for a built-in babysitter. The spread in age has given me the ability to enjoy the things that kids bring on the second go around. Not that I didn’t enjoy the first, it was just different. I always tell my older son that he taught me how to be a man and my youngest is teaching me to be a father. The reader should know that I’m originally from South Carolina. I joined the Army about 6 months after the terrorist attacks on 9/11 and spent over 6 years in the Army, culminating in a 16-month deployment to Iraq from late 2006-08. In 2008, I was formally discharged from the military. From my perspective, then and now, those 6 years felt like a lifetime, filled with up-tempo training, assignments to various locations (5 different addresses in 6 years), pain, and grief. I was comfortable with change prior to my time in the Army. My family moved a lot when I was young, resulting in being enrolled in 7 different schools prior to middle school. When I returned from Iraq, I can remember looking up at the ceiling fan in the small apartment we were renting in Dartmouth, MA, following one blade with my eyes as it spun round, and thinking, “What do I do now?
I eventually enrolled at Bristol Community College and matriculated from there to Brown University (class of ‘15). When I told my grandfather, Joe, that I was unsure about my major or the path I would take after graduating, he uttered the familiar refrain that I still hear today when I face adversity, “You’ll know what to do, Tyrone.” He died of heart failure in 2012 at 82, the same year he had purchased his first house.
Joe ran away from the San Carlos Apache reservation at 12 years old, enlisting in the Marine Corps at 18 years old. He was a retired veteran of the Korean and Vietnam wars and never forgot the small shack his family lived in on the reservation. He’d often talk about going to sleep hungry when he lived on the reservation. For him, running away was an opportunity. When I was a kid, I never saw him pass anyone who appeared to have a need without giving them money or food. On one occasion after we went grocery shopping, he stopped the vehicle we were in to give all the groceries we just purchased to a homeless man. His eyes watered when I asked why and he just drove back to the store to buy the same items.
After graduating, I took my first job after the military, a Veterans Affairs position at Senator Sheldon Whitehouse’s Office at the behest of my PTSD counselor at the VA. I had tried my best to take off the “veteran hat” while going to school and intended to do the same after. I’ve come to find out over the last decade that this is a common thing that veterans do. With the guidance of my counselor and through the opportunity provided to me at the Senator’s Office, I quickly embraced my new job with enthusiasm. While In Iraq I had seen the cost of war, blood, oil and bullets. Young soldiers, like me, eyes wide, pale skin, half in, half out. I’d imagine their families, thousands of miles away, not knowing at that moment that their child was gone. My intent, my mission, in serving veterans in this new role was to carry their memory forward. So, I was honored to join Operation Stand Down RI (OSDRI) a few years later. From my perspective, at Senator Whitehouse’s Office, OSDRI was the “go-to” organization for veteran related issues. They were “the boots on the ground” in comparison to the “suits” and took a proactive, hands-on approach to business. As a former ground pounder, enlisted soldier, OSDRI’s appeal led to an everlasting home where I’m face-to-face with veterans who struggle with transitioning to civilian life every day.
I’m mowing the grass now, trying to dodge bees hanging onto white clovers, nudging them gently with the front of the mower (a scoot gesture) as I move forward. Success is more dependent on not getting stung, rather than clipping the lawn. I speak from the experience of carelessly moving along the grass and ending up in the pool to evade another sting.
I’m also still deep into contemplation about what freedom means to me. Ahhhh, I’m finally getting there! My youngest son interrupts my thoughts and my mow, to ask when I’m going to get into the pool. He’s been patient.
To the honest point, freedom is not the same for everyone, nor has it or will it ever be. On this day I’m particularly reminded of those who bore the greatest brunt of mankind, the poor, the sick, the destitute, the enslaved, of all colors, religions and beliefs. All men are not created equal nor are they equally endowed with certain unalienable rights, including life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness as stated in the Declaration of Independence. Acknowledging that is not blasphemy, it’s the truth. Frederick Douglas reminded us of this inequity in his speech, “What to a Slave is the Fourth of July?” It’s a must read, if you find yourself ever questioning the point of Juneteenth.
The question is can we achieve the goals written within the Constitution and apply them to the lives of ALL? I think success should be measured in our collaborative march towards achieving those goals while also realizing that it is a lofty goal that may never be achieved, and that’s okay. We must be comfortable with failure while also realizing more work needs to be done when we do achieve success. That nuanced communication amongst mankind, realizing our errors and telling the truth about ourselves when we look in the mirror is a form of freedom. We will fail and we will succeed, but collectively we need to be honest about who we are, what we’ve done, and who paid the ultimate sacrifice along that path. Abraham Lincoln once said, “A house divided against itself cannot stand.” Forgive me, it’s probably one of the most used quotes of all time, but that’s because it’s such a damn good quote by a man who’s views on slavery and what to do with the enslaved gradually transitioned throughout his presidency, ultimately leading to the Emancipation Proclamation – and in doing so he preserved the Union. The same Union that worked doggedly to keep my grandfather, and his kind, on a reservation. When asked to serve his country, Joe raised his hand and so did I. Why? Because we both believed in the potential of those words written within the Declaration and the unwavering respect and love for the best country in the world, a land of opportunity, a land also riddled with pock marks amongst its purple mountain’s majesties.
I’ve cupped a batch of dead bees in my two hands on a cold fall day as my wife cried beside me. It’s a tough thing to accept that your hard work resulted in failure. And then, we started over.
Like bees, the human path to the hive varies, sometimes it arches and sways, bumping into objects or having to be nudged along. Sometimes, our failures result in massive graveyards with names etched on stones. Likewise, our success can save lives. I believe the latter result is often achieved through effective communication, nuanced legislation, and empathy for one another. A controlled chaos, if you will. That may involve giving all you have to lose or just having to start over again. Go back to the grocery store if you need to.
Metaphorically speaking, I’ve bumped into many of those machines only to be fortunate enough to fly away. Call it tenacity but most certainly, luck. The right place at the right time with just the right amount of opportunity. The American Philosopher Ralph Waldo Emerson, said, “It’s not about the destination, it’s about the journey.” This is wholeheartedly true. And therein lies the meaning of freedom. If you get knocked off your clover, move to the next one with enthusiasm, because what’s good for the bee, yeah you guessed it, is good for the hive.
By the time you read this we will be in the throes of July 4th, 2025, celebrating our nation’s independence from Britain. Surely you are enjoying the warm months ahead before the path leads us to fall. Rejoice in your freedom, collectively, and what that means to each one of you. As we buzz about each other, I have one ask of you… Seek adverse conversations and situations, in a safe manner, while approaching your fellow Americans with empathy. And please say a prayer to whatever god you believe in that my wife, and I, can manage our hive through this winter.
— Padman Venkatraman, author.
One of my characters in my novel, Born Behind Bars, says, Fear is a lock; courage is a key. When I hear the word freedom these days, I think of those words. I do what I can to courageously to protect our freedoms, although taking action does make me afraid given the current climate in our nation.
I am not sure we realize how fragile our constitutionally guaranteed freedoms are. Or how valuable Freedom of Speech is to us. Without a free and credible press, without access to excellent and diverse literature, without freedom to publish and distribute and discuss facts and opinions, we would not be able to do so many things. We would not be able to raise awareness about how to grow as a society and what we need to do to assist others in times of need. I value freedom of speech enough that I shelved my creative work to pour my time ceaselessly for the past 10 months into helping pass our Freedom to Read legislation – not only for my sake (because it is vital to my existence personally, spiritually and practically as a writer) but also because I think it is of paramount importance for young people, who are our future.
— Rev. Dr. Donnie Anderson, transgender woman.
He came to this country seeking a new way of life and almost before he knew it he was on a boat back to Europe as a doughboy. Although he would return to start a family he would die young as a result of wounds suffered in World War I. He died before I could know him. His son would drive a tank in the Battle of the Bulge and be in one of only five tanks out of a unit of 22 that would survive the encounter. Later he, too, would suffer wounds in an aerial attack.
Although I never got to meet my grandfather, my dad’s stories made him live in our hearts. I share this because I grew up in a home that honored America’s values. American history captured my attention in school days, and I learned that we have often fallen far short of our aspirational values. Learning of the systemic ways our government cheated African American soldiers returning from World War II the same benefits my father enjoyed was a shock that filled me with shame.
I share all of this as context for my answer to the question “What does freedom mean to you today.” I had always been taught that we were free to become whatever we wanted as long as it was legal and didn’t hurt anyone. As someone who lived almost 70 years of my life as a white male, for me that was mostly true. Eight years ago, I came out of a very dark closet and shared with my family that I had come to understand a lifelong mystery that had haunted me since childhood. I am a transgender woman. When I acted on my revelation and began to identify and live as a woman my freedoms were diminished.
Intellectually I understood that our country had systematically denied the freedom I experienced to a number of minoritized groups. I felt the disgust and shame of those actions in theory, but not in lived experience. As a transgender woman I now have a sense of what it is like to have the country I love intentionally target me in a number of specific ways. In recent years hundreds of laws have been proposed (and a number enacted into law) in states all over the country targeting the transgender community. Just recently the Supreme Court of the United States upheld a Tennessee law that denies life affirming medical care for transgender minors. Although I live in Rhode Island and not Tennessee, I feel the impact of the SCOTUS decision on me and the entire transgender community. There is a systemic effort in place to erase the transgender community.
In the past, on the 4th of July as the flag went by, I felt pride in the sacrifice my grandfather and father made to protect our freedoms. A flag that stood for freedom for ALL. This year as I watch the red, white and blue pass by I will still honor my family’s sacrifice, but I no longer see a simple symbol of freedom, but a reminder that freedom is for some and intentionally and cruelly denied to me and others. I still love our country and its aspirational values, but my hope is that we might join together to work to make our aspirational value of freedom for all a reality.
— Carlene Fonseca, community leader in Central Falls.
Freedom is one of my top three values—something I wouldn’t have said a few years ago. But that realization came to me through the journey of getting sober and becoming a mother.
Today, freedom looks like waking up early to move my body at the gym, eating breakfast alone in peace, blocking off days for meetings on my terms, and picking up my daughter at the bus stop every afternoon. It’s being able to visit my siblings when I want to, take a nap when my body needs rest, cancel a meeting without guilt, and say no to events that don’t align with my peace.
Don’t get me wrong—I’m deeply responsible, committed, and I always get things done (often beyond what’s expected). I recently learned I have ADHD and that my processing speed is in the 99th percentile. That explains why I can do so much in a short amount of time.
Freedom, for me, is no longer carrying guilt or shame when I say no. It’s choosing myself—over and over again. It’s giving myself permission to live life on my terms and not apologizing for it.
— Rick Reamer, professor emeritus, Rhode Island College School of Social Work.
On June 25, 2019, I was in Hong Kong. I spent the day putting the finishing touches on a lecture I was scheduled to deliver the following day at the University of Hong Kong. Entirely by coincidence, I was teaching in Hong Kong during what has become known as the summer of protest that focused on Hong Kong’s very complicated relationship with the People’s Republic of China. Many Hong Kongers worry that mainland China has been cracking down on basic freedoms they have enjoyed in their unique form of democracy, especially since its time as a British colony and, since 1997, as an independent special administrative region (SAR) of China.
During my time in Hong Kong, I kept a close eye on the headlines that saturated the local news about civil unrest. On June 26, I learned, there was to be a massive demonstration in Edinburgh Place, a prominent public park on Hong Kong Island overlooking Victoria Harbor. I decided to attend to witness history and Hong Kongers’ passionate efforts to preserve core freedoms.
As I headed toward the demonstration, I found myself in the largest sea of people I have ever encountered. Hundreds of thousands of Hong Kongers streamed toward Edinburgh Place. Most wore black clothing, which had become the unofficial uniform of protesters. Many held yellow umbrellas to protect them from pepper spray. Over time, pro-democracy protests in Hong Kong became known as the Umbrella Movement.
When I finally arrived at the demonstration site, I was surrounded by Hong Kongers who held protest signs and chanted loudly in Cantonese. They were remarkably peaceful and respectful. I stood there thinking about how extraordinary it was that so many people gathered to proclaim their love of democracy and freedom.
I chatted with as many demonstrators as I could engage about why they cared. Over and over, I heard passionate, ideals-filled comments about how much these protesters value freedom and all that it represents, at least in principle: freedom of the press, voting rights, civil rights, and the rule of law. Some cried as they told me about their deep-seated fear that the freedoms they have known are slipping away because of Beijing’s control of key aspects of political life in Hong Kong.
After I concluded my work in Hong Kong, I boarded my 16-hour flight back to the United States. As the plane headed west over mainland China and Russia, I could not help but reflect on what freedom and democracy mean to me.
Yes, our democracy is imperfect. Yes, as a nation we have much to apologize for, beginning with our treatment of Native Americans and slaves. Certainly, we have our blemishes, some significant, including contemporary, ugly displays of race-based and faith-based hatred. Yet, wrapped around these noteworthy sins are legions of principled people who are trying to get it right: People who support free speech and news reporters’ right and obligation to ask politicians tough questions. People who support the right to engage in peaceful protests when government policies trouble us. People who celebrate their right to vote people into and out of office.
Fast forward. On June 14, 2025, my wife and I attended a very peaceful demonstration at the Rhode Island State House to call attention to what participants here and across the U.S. fear is a national government crackdown on Americans’ basic values and freedom. The skies were gray and there was a drizzle. I held the yellow umbrella that a Hong Kong demonstrator handed me six years ago in Edinburgh Place on the other side of the globe. As I stood in front of the Rhode Island State House, surrounded by thousands of citizens voicing their concerns, I reflected on what I saw firsthand in Hong Kong: democracy and freedom are precious, and they should not be taken for granted. Not at all.
— Cindy Elder, author and conservationist.
Over the last year, I’ve contemplated the fragility of freedom and our personal responsibility for defining and claiming freedom for ourselves. I was inspired by a man named Thomas White, who’s been dead for more than 150 years. I stumbled across his 82-page hand-stitched narrative, written in fading ink on deteriorating paper, among my husband’s family records while researching my new historical novel, Tales of the Sea. Thomas forced me to reckon with the tightrope we are walking now, as we strip away one freedom after the next, and the terrible slope ahead of us if we don’t start thinking of freedom as a right equally shared, not a privilege of the few.
Thomas self-emancipated from a life of slavery in Maryland at the age of 15, decades before the Civil War. He carved out a life of freedom and hard work as a sailor, travelling the world, moving from job to job, suffering indignity and hardship, relentlessly achieving success on his own terms. He never lost his humanity or his sense of gratitude and grace, even when speaking forcefully against the cultural norms that circumscribed his existence.
“It is well known that most slave owners will not allow their slaves any learning, for they tell us if we had any education, we should want to better ourselfs and then run away from owners. Although thanks be to god he helps some with sense and reason enough to make them escape from their persecutors. But we have a great deal to go through before you can make sure of our freedom and call ourselves free men.”
~ Thomas White
An ever-expanding research team including faculty and students from Roger Williams University, Brown University and historians across the country have joined together to understand the significance of this document. We hope to find Thomas White’s descendants and make this narrative part of the public conversation. Thomas’ story was featured June 18 in Smithsonian Magazine.
On a personal level, I think of Thomas every day. I see our country chipping away at freedoms that don’t affect me — not yet. I have food, shelter, clothing, opportunity, the ability to walk the streets without being questioned because of the way I look. I have layers of safety nets — family, friends, education, job — that keep me sheltered from the harsh penalties of being without.
My own freedom isn’t the problem. I have to care about and fight for our collective freedom. Thomas is tapping on my shoulder and asking me, what have you done today?
— Charles Feldman, Peer Specialist at Oasis Wellness & Recovery Center of RI.
When I was in college, I encountered a wide variety of points of view. In my dorms, there were both communists and fascists. At the time, I was pretty radical, and I thought we would have a hippie utopia. I thought the fascists would not be fascists much longer, and I ended up joining a revolutionary socialist group, not really knowing what I was joining. Back then, freedom meant worldwide harmony, standing up for the underdog.
Now, years later, the points of view I encountered in college have given me something to think about, but I have gone back to an idea that I grew up with, that political freedom happens when we have a balance of power.
Libertarians think that freedom is individual initiative, but this leads to greed, the rich getting richer and the poor getting poorer. Communists think that freedom comes from equality, but this leads to anger, with millions of people getting jailed and killed. Reactionaries, such as fascists, think that freedom comes from solidarity based on their version of their religion and/or their version of their nationality, but this leads to pride (feeling superior), with those who are not of their version of their religion and/or nationality becoming expendable, and since there is no liberty or equality, everyone would eventually become expendable. Anarchists want 100% liberty, 100% equality, and 100% solidarity, but we would have to all be saints for that to work. At one time I thought it would work. Greed, anger, and pride are in us, in our egos, so we need a balance of power to keep the egos of those on top from oppressing the rest of us. A balance of ideals would get us a balance of power.
How do we get that? I’m glad you asked.
Anarchists want no authority, either government, or corporations. Reactionaries want there to be no opposition to either government or corporations. Libertarians want there to be opposition to government, but not to corporations, and communists want opposition to corporations, but not to government.
In my version of democracy, there would be both government and corporations, but there would be opposition to both of these. What does this mean? Opposition to government means there would be opposition political parties, a free press, free and fair elections, peaceful protests would be welcomed, freedom of speech, and freedom of assembly. Opposition to the corporations means that there would be labor unions, strikes, progressive taxation with the rich paying their fair share, the rich paying their fair share into Social Security, universal healthcare, etc. A balance of authority would bring a balance of power.
I think the societies that have come the closest to a balance of power are in western Europe. Even though many of the social changes in these countries were brought about by socialists, I am no longer a socialist. Why? Because I think the societies in western Europe work so well because the socialists only got half of what they wanted. If they had gotten 100% of what they wanted, anger would have replaced greed as the major problem. So, while I think the democratic socialists bring up some of the best ideas for change, I would only go with them halfway. But we are not there halfway yet.
So far, I have presented a balance of ideals, a balance of authority, and a balance of power.
There is one more balance, which I call the balance of mobility. Corporations can go to just about any country to get the best deal for themselves. To have perfect competition between the corporations and the workers, workers would also have to be able to go to any country to get the best deal for themselves. If that happened, wages would rise around the world, and since workers would have more money to spend, corporations would make more profits. Trump is trying to restore industry to the U.S. by implementing tariffs, but a better way would be to have the balance of mobility.
One thing that Trump said is that there are fine people on both sides of any political disagreement. I agree, but if that is true, the reactionaries would have to realize that the immigrants that they are trying to deport are fine people, and the minorities that they criticize are fine people, and they would change their policies. Yes, there are fine people on both sides, but we must put that into practice by working with both sides to have a balance of power.
Well, you asked me what freedom means to me. In my life, I have taken a roundabout road through utopia, and ended up back where I started out, that political freedom comes from a balance of power, so that we can all contribute and be benefited together. I present this to all the fine people who might consider it.
I will close by saying that I once imagined that there is no heaven, and now I agree with the mystics that union with God ultimately brings bliss and freedom. The world will go on with its ups and downs, but ultimate freedom comes from union with God in the non-dual state, the One without a second. In that state, there is no lack and no gain. You may ask what fun that is, but if there is no lack, there is nothing needed to be gained. The mystics call this bliss, and mystics of various religions have experienced this state. For those who want to go beyond politics, this is considered to be the ultimate freedom.
Namaste.
