Speaking of Cement

July 4, 2005

It’s been about 13 years since I’ve stood up and said the Pledge of Allegiance. Around that time, I became convinced that this country speaks lofty words, but they are hollow and I regretfully decided to simply stop mindlessly repeating them.

Shortly after making that decision, we moved to a small town (about 7,000 people) in northern California. On July 3rd that year, there was to be the annual fireworks display and what seemed like nearly the entire town gathered on the football field at the local high school.

The fireworks show was to be seen off to the east and everyone was more or less oriented to that direction. We had gotten there just shortly before the appointed time and so we were at the very back of the crowd, settling in with our lawn chairs. I was actually grateful for being at the back of the crowd since this was to be the first time I would put my new resolve to the test; I had no intention of standing for the inevitable pledge this year. I knew I could no longer be part of the big lie that we tell ourselves about our country, but I was feeling self-conscious about it. I had explained to the kids my reasons why I would not be standing for the pledge or the anthem, but that they were free to do whatever they decided.

As dusk fell, the crackle of a microphone drew the attention of the crowd. A disembodied voice announced to the masses that the show would start soon, but first would we all please stand for the Pledge of Allegiance and to sing the National Anthem. And so, they all did. As I sat there in my lawn chair, facing east, I had a perfect view of the entire town, every one of my new neighbors, as they stood up, turned around to the stage behind me, and hands over hearts, recited and sang and looked quizzically at the lone woman who sat facing them in her lawn chair.

That was my baptism by fire. My kids were watching me and I knew that while they were getting an obvious chuckle at my predicament, they were also watching to see if I would cave in to peer pressure. I know that their presence made it easier to remain seated and mute while everyone else stood and sang. If I expected them to stand up to peer pressure about other things, I couldn’t let them see me succumb to it on this. But I must say, that was a rather uncomfortable few minutes and they knew it.

(Fortunately, I learned that the town to which we’d moved is a very liberal place, home to many artists, social activists, lesbians and old hippies. I discovered I fit in well there; I found a lot of kindred spirits and I became active in the community.)

It’s gotten easier with the passing years. I have learned to discern when to moderate my actions for the greater good. Just as I stood and sat on command at the funeral mass for my husband’s grandfather, although I did not pray, so I have stood several times for the pledge when not doing so would serve only to detract from our goal (for instance, when we sit in the gallery at the House of Representatives, I sometimes stand because I don’t want to give them ammunition by not doing so). But I haven’t yet said the pledge or sung the anthem.

As I’ve become more involved with political issues I am more convinced that this country does not uphold the values we so dearly love to sing about on the 4th of July every year. It’s gotten worse, not better, with the takeover of the government by corporations whose only goal is profit and conservative religious factions who seek to marginalize those who do not conform to their ideology. Until we do begin to craft a society that offers liberty and justice to all, that truly is the “land of the free,” I will continue to decline to repeat the lie. I look forward to the day when I can once again honestly stand for the Pledge. I hope when that day comes, I am still able to stand.