What to the Slave is the Fourth of July?

Today, I’m taking back my freedom.

Not just as an idea, but as a declaration.

My freedom is in my voice, the one I was told was too loud, too much, too complicated.
My freedom is in my vision, the one they tried to blur with fear, shame, and silence.
My freedom is in my valor, the courage to keep going even when the church pew felt more like a prison.

And that freedom? That power?
It looks like Sidekicks & Stoolz.

Today, July 4th, the fireworks will light up the sky again, freedom on full display.
But for some of us, the day doesn't sing liberty. It hums contradiction.

It was 1852 when Frederick Douglass asked,
“What to the slave is the Fourth of July?”

He wasn’t seeking applause.
He was uncovering America’s deepest hypocrisy: a nation declaring liberty while legislating slavery.

And today, I ask a similar question, but this time, I ask it of the Church.

What to the wounded is this worship?

We clap.
We shout.
We run the aisles.

But some of us are limping in silence.
Some of us are bleeding out in the pews.
And no one sees it, or worse, they call it rebellion, a lack of faith, or disobedience.

I’ve known the kind of church hurt that bruises your belief.

I’ve sat under sermons that preached love but practiced exclusion.
I’ve been in ministries that could exegete scripture but couldn’t hold space for my questions.
I’ve stood in sanctuaries where praise was loud, and accountability was silent.

So I began to wonder:
If Jesus came to set the captives free, why do so many of us feel chained, by doctrine, by performance, by power?

This isn’t bitterness.
This is lament.
This is truth-telling.
Like Douglass, I’m not here to destroy, I’m here to diagnose and dream of something better.

Because the truth is:

I still believe in Jesus.
I still believe in justice.
I just don’t believe we’re living it, not yet.

I love God, but I can no longer ignore the gap between what the Church preaches and what it practices.

The contradiction is too loud.
The parallels are too clear.

Just like America once celebrated independence while enslaving bodies,
Many churches today celebrate righteousness while oppressing spirits.

We’ve traded chains of iron for chains of shame.
We’ve exchanged plantations for platforms.
We’ve baptized control and called it conviction.

But I won’t play along anymore.

This is my Exodus.
Not from God, but from the systems that claim His name but deny His nature.

This is my season of unlearning, healing, and speaking truth, even when it shakes the pulpit.

Because freedom isn’t just a national ideal, it’s a spiritual mandate.

And I can’t celebrate liberty in a country, or a church, that still fetishizes control and silences the wounded.

So to those who’ve walked away, are barely holding on, or feel caught in the in-between:
You’re not crazy.
You’re not rebellious.
And you’re not alone.

The question still echoes:

“What to the wounded is this worship?”
“What to the slave is this freedom?”

This time, the answer begins with my voice.
With my vision.
With my valor.

This time, the answer is Sidekicks & Stoolz.
A space for the bruised, the brave, and the bold.

Freedom starts here. 

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