𝗧𝗵𝗲 𝗚𝗹𝗼𝗯𝗮𝗹 𝗕𝗲𝗮𝘁 𝗯𝘆 𝗚𝗲𝗿𝗮𝗹𝗱 𝗟𝗮𝗰𝘂𝗮𝗿𝘁𝗮

“𝑻𝒉𝒆 𝒗𝒆𝒓𝒚 𝒆𝒔𝒔𝒆𝒏𝒄𝒆 𝒐𝒇 𝒇𝒓𝒆𝒆𝒅𝒐𝒎 𝒊𝒔 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒂𝒃𝒊𝒍𝒊𝒕𝒚 𝒕𝒐 𝒄𝒉𝒐𝒐𝒔𝒆.” — Jose Rizal

July 4, 2025, Angeles City–As the fireworks illuminate the skies over America today, marking their 249th Fourth of July, a familiar yet complex echo resonates here in the Philippines. For many of us, especially those of us who grew up in the shadow of Clark Air Base, the Fourth of July isn’t just an American holiday; it’s a day deeply etched into the tapestry of our own history, a reminder of the intricate and often paradoxical ties that bind our two nations.

I was born in Angeles City in 1973, a stone’s throw from the gates of what was then a bustling US Air Force installation. My childhood was punctuated by the sights and sounds of American culture – PX goods, American muscle cars in Balibago, and yes, the annual fanfare of the Fourth of July. We saw the parades, heard the speeches, and perhaps, absorbed a bit of the rhetoric about freedom and independence. But even then, there was an underlying awareness that our experience of “freedom” was distinctly different.

My own journey has further complicated this perspective. Half of my adult life was spent in the United States, in New Jersey, where I eventually became a naturalized American citizen. I pledged allegiance to that flag, embraced the freedoms and responsibilities that came with it, and built a life there. So, when the Fourth of July rolls around, it’s not just an observation; it’s my Independence Day too.

The connection between the American Fourth of July and Philippine history is, to put it mildly, complicated. While Americans celebrate their declaration of independence from British rule, our own journey to sovereignty was significantly influenced, and at times, directly shaped, by the very nation celebrating its freedom.

We cannot forget the Philippine-American War, a brutal conflict that followed our declaration of independence from Spain in 1898. The irony is stark: a nation born of revolution and a fight for self-determination then found itself in the position of an imperial power, suppressing another people’s desire for the same. The “Benevolent Assimilation” proclamation, issued by President McKinley, aimed to sugarcoat the reality of American occupation, but the scars of that conflict run deep in our collective memory.

Yet, alongside this painful history, there’s also the undeniable fact of America’s role in our post-war reconstruction and the establishment of many of our democratic institutions. The period of American tutelage, while controversial, also introduced concepts of public education, sanitation, and a legal framework that, in many ways, mirrored their own. The Fourth of July, for many years, was even observed as “Filipino-American Friendship Day” here, a testament to the enduring, if sometimes uneven, relationship.

For my generation, growing up near Clark, the American presence was palpable. It meant jobs, opportunities, and a certain global exposure. But it also meant grappling with the nuances of our sovereignty, the economic dependencies, and the cultural influences that sometimes felt overwhelming. We witnessed firsthand the power dynamics at play, the ebb and flow of a relationship forged in conflict and maintained through various agreements.

Now, having slowly reestablished myself back in the Philippines, I find myself standing on a bridge between two worlds. My heart holds a deep affection for both the land of my birth and the nation that adopted me. This dual identity gives me a unique vantage point on the Fourth of July. It’s a day for me to appreciate the hard-won freedoms of the United States, a country that became my home and offered me so much. But it’s also a powerful reminder of the Philippines’ own enduring struggle for complete self-determination and the complex legacy of our shared past.

My Own Fourth of July Reflection
Today, as the distant thuds of firecrackers reach my ears here in Angeles City, I won’t just be thinking of parades and barbecues on a hot New Jersey summer day.
Instead, I’ll be reflecting on how my identity, born under the Philippine sun and shaped by the American dream, continually navigates these historical currents. This dual citizenship isn’t just about passports; it’s about a constant, personal negotiation of loyalty, memory, and hope.

Jose Rizal’s words, “The very essence of freedom is the ability to choose,” resonate deeply with me on this particular day. For a long time, it felt like the choices for our nation, and even for individuals like myself, were often constrained by larger forces. But as I look back at my journey—from growing up in the shadow of a US base, to choosing to become an American citizen, and then, ultimately, choosing to return and re-root myself here in my homeland—I see the powerful, quiet truth in his statement.

The Fourth of July, for me, has become a mirror reflecting not just America’s past, but also the enduring, evolving spirit of the Philippines, and my own place within that intricate dance. It’s a reminder that true freedom, for nations and individuals alike, is a journey, not a destination, one that I’m still very much on, here, in the place I call home again.