Ahead of America’s 250th anniversary, New York City Public Advocate Jumaane D. Williams convened performers, elected officials, civil rights activists, and thought leaders to reflect on what this moment in history means for Black America and revisit Frederick Douglass’ “What to the Slave is the Fourth of July?” On the site of the city’s first slave market, where enslaved people of African descent were bought and sold across territories, they brought the question into a modern conversation.
The commemoration included a performance of Douglass’ speech by actor Gbenga Akinnagbe (The Wire, To Kill a Mockingbird), an address from the Public Advocate, cultural rituals and performances, and a discussion where panelists talked about the progress that’s been won through generations of collective action, enduring barriers, and emerging threats facing Black families across the country in this moment.
“We can rightly celebrate the liberties won and the people who fought for it, while acknowledging not only injustices still uncorrected, but the ways that those in power are seeking to undo the progress of decades,” said Public Advocate Jumaane D. Williams. “Liberation means freedom from oppression, fear, and violence in our streets and our systems. The Fourth of July celebrates a freedom that Black Americans didn’t have 250 years ago, and Black Americans today are still waiting to move from the notion of freedom to true liberation.”
Dozens gathered in Manahatta Park to recognize and reckon with the history of the space and what happened there. For over two centuries, the city legally sanctioned slavery, and continued to profit off the buying, selling, and forced labor of enslaved people even after it was banned statewide in 1827. In 2024, the Public Advocate passed Local Law 95 to require signage marking the site of New York’s first slave market at the intersection of Wall and Pearl Streets– an adjustment to the siting of the city’s original marker, placed in 2015 through the Public Advocate’s work. The signage now serves as a reminder of not only the slave market’s tragic history, but the role slavery had in the formation of New York’s economy, and the consequent systemic racism that continues to permeate our society.
Celebrations of America’s 250th birthday come amidst aggressive efforts by the Trump Administration to strip away the rights of Black Americans, including dismantling the Voting Rights Act, approving the racist gerrymandering of states, and pursuing mass deportation tactics to erase immigrant communities from the very country that they helped to build. As many prepare to celebrate what makes America great, attendees of Saturday’s event reckoned with the cost of that greatness, uplifting freedoms won while reflecting on what work still lays ahead in the fight for true liberation.
In his address, the Public Advocate said:
“I refuse to let the idea of patriotism be repurposed for prejudice. Because patriotism shouldn’t be equated with nationalism, it isn't jingoism, and it isn't blind loyalty. Patriotism can be a sense of service. Of purpose. Of love for one’s community and commitment to those within it. Of the never ending work of improving the nation for the sake of its people. Of demanding that this country live up to the promises spoken to [immigrants like] my mother and so many others.
I find my patriotism in public service and in protest. Surely a nation founded on revolution can understand that. For Black Americans, for any people who this country’s leaders or laws have subjugated, patriotism can be an act of defiance against those who would abuse it.”
Video of the event is here, and the Public Advocate’s full remarks as prepared are below.
Peace and blessings, and welcome. It’s an honor to be with you in this space and moment, on the land of the Lenape. Today we sit in the shadow of skyscrapers and of history. A history too often ignored. Much will be said in the coming week about what happened on this land 250 years ago. But first, I think it’s critical to go back further. Four hundred years ago, the first enslaved Africans were brought to our city in bondage. This country was built on the backs of our African ancestors, all too literally. And here in New York, our city codified that atrocity. Where now stand benches once there were auction blocks. The Council at the time sanctioned this barbaric industry for over 50 years. Ten years ago, I worked to ensure that this history was not forgotten – that here, amid the luxurious wealth of Wall Street, we were reminded of where that wealth came from. And I felt compelled to return to this site today, to recall this history, as we approach this milestone anniversary. The fireworks will echo over the East River, and most won’t think of the Black bodies stolen and trafficked across it. But for me, that legacy echoes, as does the question that Frederick Douglass put forward. What, to the slave, is the Fourth of July? Frederick Douglass delivered his address 76 years into this nation’s history. Almost two centuries later, I’m not alone in asking – what, to their descendants, to Black America, is the country’s 250th Anniversary? Two hundred and fifty years ago, America declared that all men were created equal. They claimed to hold that fundamental truth as self-evident. But they lied. When their declaration was signed and sent, these men returned to homes sustained by slave labor. We sit today between our country’s observance of Juneteenth and the Fourth of July. Between celebrations of freedom delivered and freedom declared. And that same state of an uneasy in-between is where I find myself today as a Black man in America. Across those 250 years, a Black man in America only won civil rights about 60 years ago. For the first hundred years of this country, a Black man was ⅗ of an American, and for the next hundred, a second-class citizen by the law. And I don’t need to tell anyone here that even when the laws change, the legacy does not. In policing injustice, in redlining neighborhoods, in health inequity, in wealth distribution, in immigration raids, environmental hazards, in the criminal legal system, it is clear: A country founded on freedom has failed to truly deliver it to all Americans. You could say that the arc, however long, bends toward justice. That movement, however slow, is forward. I’ve certainly repeated those words many many times. But in this moment, the highest powers in our country are working to bend that arc backward. We can rightly celebrate the freedom won and the people who fought for it, the progress made and victories secured for people like our families, often through the struggles of the Black Americans who came before. And at the same time, we have to acknowledge not only injustices still uncorrected, but the ways that those in power are seeking to undo the progress of decades. The powerful have mounted an all-out effort to erase the history and strip away the rights of Black Americans. From the dismantling of voting rights to racist gerrymandering to ending TPS, this White House pretends – wishes – that Black America did not exist. And tens of millions of people go along with that fiction they prefer. They scorned Juneteenth and the liberty it represents. But in just a few days, we are expected to let freedom ring across the nation. Which brings us back to the Fourth of July. My mother’s first day as a Grenadian immigrant in our city was the Fourth of July. I can’t imagine what was going through her head as an 18 year old, dropped into this celebration of a nation she was new to, a place she chose to come because it promised a life of liberty and the pursuit of happiness. I’ve wondered whether at that moment she, a young Black woman, felt some new sense of patriotism. I know in some spaces, that word is dirty. It’s been corrupted as conservative. And I understand why. I know that when I walk down a street lined in red white and blue, I feel anxious. I know I’m not alone in that, and I know I have good reason. But I also know that I refuse to let the idea of patriotism be repurposed for prejudice. Because patriotism shouldn’t be equated with nationalism, it isn't jingoism, and it isn't blind loyalty. Patriotism can be a sense of service. Of purpose. Of love for one’s community and commitment to those within it. Of the never-ending work of improving the nation for the sake of its people. Of demanding that this country live up to the promises spoken to my mother and many like her. I find my patriotism in public service and in protest. Surely a nation founded on revolution can understand that. For Black Americans, for any people who this country’s leaders or laws have subjugated, patriotism can be an act of defiance against those who would abuse it. 250 years since that revolution, I hold these truths to be self-evident. America is not automatic. America is not assumed good by its mere existence. Not by the history repeated nor the fable fabricated. When it is good, it is made so by its people, its principles, and its purpose. And I believe that is possible to celebrate. But if white America is to celebrate what makes America great, there has to be an honest reckoning with the cost of that greatness. Consider the unpaid debt run to yield the well-manicured lawn where you now host a picnic to celebrate independence. The Fourth of July celebrates a freedom that people who look like me didn’t have 400 years ago, or 250 years ago. And Black Americans today are still waiting to move from the notion of freedom to true liberation. Liberation is freedom from oppression. Freedom from fear. Freedom from violence in our streets and our systems. Liberation tears down systems of injustice propped up by the powerful. We stand on Wall Street, the purest evidence of those unjust systems – towering overhead long after Black Wall Street burned. I know this, and still I try to search for that feeling that brought my mother here, brought so many to these streets where we cross new cultural borders at every corner. What to Black America is the Fourth of July? Maybe it’s a desire to make this country one we can be proud of without reservation. Maybe it’s a search for a reason for patriotism. Not because we owe it, but because we deserve it. If you know me, you know I’ve never been one to sing anthems to America. Yet I was struck recently listening to Ray Charles' rendition of America, the Beautiful. Because throughout America’s states and story, there is beauty to celebrate. Not in the emptiness of spacious skies or waves of grain, but as Charles sings it — O beautiful for heroes proved In liberating strife Who more than self their country loved And mercy more than life. Those heroes proved in liberating strife include Frederick Douglass himself. They include Harriet Tubman and Sojourner Truth and Dr. King and Malcolm X and Claudette Colvin and Rosa Parks and John Lewis and Marsha P Johnson and Angela Davis. America! America! – God shed His grace on thee Till selfish gain no longer strain The banner of the free Nor the joy of the liberated.