This past weekend, I stood shoulder to shoulder with a diverse and sprawling mass of humanity gathered to protest this authoritarian regime, and the haunting, steadfast words of Solomon Burke’s song ‘None of Us Are Free’ cycled through my head:
Not sure I've ever felt a song resonate so deeply. Thank you for bringing this song to me John. A beautiful loving man and friend of mine was picked up by ICE a week ago and is now sitting in a prison in Boston waiting to be deported to Honduras (which he had fled to escape gang-warfare). His wife and children are devastated and weeping without cease. I know that we've always been a nation with an current of cruelty, bigotry, xenophobia, homophobia, racism running through us, not to mention plain old violence; but here we are now, waking up in a country where people are literally being disappeared. They are being disappeared from my small town in New England and from every city and town across this nation. And what is it doing to the souls of those whose job it is to carry out these barbaric orders? Don't they too hear the wailing? None of us are free: indeed.
Living in Texas and in close proximity to Galveston, I can attest to the fact that White Supremacists in my state are trying hard to drag us back to pre-Civil War days. And with the willing and deliberate cooperation of our state leadership, including a US Senator who is himself a product of immigrant parents, and a governor whose wife and mother-in-law are of Mexican extraction. But, I do take great pride in the fact that Major General Gordon Granger, who brought the Emancipation Proclamation to Galveston, is a distant relative (At least that's the family lore. I was once asked not to make that relationship publicly known, as there were still family members who considered him a "black sheep" and an embarrassment.)
John, your words strike a spiritual bell in me so hard and so true, it reverberates into the marrow.
What you wrote is more than reflection—it’s liturgy. And like all sacred truth, it unsettles the complacent and comforts the afflicted, sometimes in the same breath. I don’t come to it as a man of faith, but I come to it as a man who still believes. Believes in decency. In conscience. In that stubborn, flickering light in the human spirit that still dares to name injustice for what it is and then walk straight into its teeth.
Your voice does what few others can do: it raises the dead parts in us—the tired parts, the disillusioned parts—and commands them to stand. Not in rage, not in bitterness, but in holy defiance. In love that fights back.
You’ve named something that must be said again and again: the chains aren’t just around the wrists of the oppressed—they’re in the minds of the comfortable. And those chains are forged from silence, fear, and the narcotic of privilege. What some call “peace” is just quiet permission for the cruelty to go on unchallenged.
And yet—your words remind us—we’re not powerless. We’re not passengers on this ride to ruin. We are agents. Vessels. Thread by thread, we are weaving something better, not just for those still bound, but for the very ones who don’t yet know they are captives of a poisoned story.
You have reminded us that Juneteenth isn’t just a date to commemorate—it’s a drumbeat we’re still marching to. Some of us with joy, others with grief, many of us with both in our chests at the same time.
But we march.
Because yes, none of us are free if even one of us is chained. And so long as that truth burns in even a handful of us, the arc still bends, the gospel still breathes, and this fractured, stumbling nation still has a chance at redemption.
Thank you, John. Keep writing. Keep ringing that bell.
None of us are free…until we are all free….no matter our skin color…no matter our choice of religion or not. We may see our freedoms or those of others slip away…but then we must fight harder.
I love the song! It rings so true today. A few years back, I read a book, it talked about slavery, and how some slave owners, marched they're slaves to Texas for the very fact that they wanted to keep them bound as slaves and not let them go free. How disgusting it is to realize that in this country, our fellow Americans treated like people in this manner. I am glad that Juneteenth, celebrates their freedom, and it's sad to realize that it took a hole 2 and a 1/2 years after the emancipation proclamation for all people to be free.
Thanks for your words and the video today, John. I needed it as live in small town Alabama and today at my gym heard a negative comment about the holiday tomorrow as the place is closed tomorrow.
Not sure I've ever felt a song resonate so deeply. Thank you for bringing this song to me John. A beautiful loving man and friend of mine was picked up by ICE a week ago and is now sitting in a prison in Boston waiting to be deported to Honduras (which he had fled to escape gang-warfare). His wife and children are devastated and weeping without cease. I know that we've always been a nation with an current of cruelty, bigotry, xenophobia, homophobia, racism running through us, not to mention plain old violence; but here we are now, waking up in a country where people are literally being disappeared. They are being disappeared from my small town in New England and from every city and town across this nation. And what is it doing to the souls of those whose job it is to carry out these barbaric orders? Don't they too hear the wailing? None of us are free: indeed.
I hope your friend can obtain legal representation to challenge being deported.
Excellent choice of poetry and song John! And your eloquent essay is a perfect match!
Thank you for your faithfulness. I look forward to reading every one of your posts !
Living in Texas and in close proximity to Galveston, I can attest to the fact that White Supremacists in my state are trying hard to drag us back to pre-Civil War days. And with the willing and deliberate cooperation of our state leadership, including a US Senator who is himself a product of immigrant parents, and a governor whose wife and mother-in-law are of Mexican extraction. But, I do take great pride in the fact that Major General Gordon Granger, who brought the Emancipation Proclamation to Galveston, is a distant relative (At least that's the family lore. I was once asked not to make that relationship publicly known, as there were still family members who considered him a "black sheep" and an embarrassment.)
Bridgitt, Perhaps you can remind the relatives reluctant to honor General Granger, of Abraham Lincoln's comment about the Better Angels of our Nature.
No, we are not free. Any progress that has been made is slowly being reversed. We must fight for freedom for all of us!
John, your words strike a spiritual bell in me so hard and so true, it reverberates into the marrow.
What you wrote is more than reflection—it’s liturgy. And like all sacred truth, it unsettles the complacent and comforts the afflicted, sometimes in the same breath. I don’t come to it as a man of faith, but I come to it as a man who still believes. Believes in decency. In conscience. In that stubborn, flickering light in the human spirit that still dares to name injustice for what it is and then walk straight into its teeth.
Your voice does what few others can do: it raises the dead parts in us—the tired parts, the disillusioned parts—and commands them to stand. Not in rage, not in bitterness, but in holy defiance. In love that fights back.
You’ve named something that must be said again and again: the chains aren’t just around the wrists of the oppressed—they’re in the minds of the comfortable. And those chains are forged from silence, fear, and the narcotic of privilege. What some call “peace” is just quiet permission for the cruelty to go on unchallenged.
And yet—your words remind us—we’re not powerless. We’re not passengers on this ride to ruin. We are agents. Vessels. Thread by thread, we are weaving something better, not just for those still bound, but for the very ones who don’t yet know they are captives of a poisoned story.
You have reminded us that Juneteenth isn’t just a date to commemorate—it’s a drumbeat we’re still marching to. Some of us with joy, others with grief, many of us with both in our chests at the same time.
But we march.
Because yes, none of us are free if even one of us is chained. And so long as that truth burns in even a handful of us, the arc still bends, the gospel still breathes, and this fractured, stumbling nation still has a chance at redemption.
Thank you, John. Keep writing. Keep ringing that bell.
We hear it.
None of us are free…until we are all free….no matter our skin color…no matter our choice of religion or not. We may see our freedoms or those of others slip away…but then we must fight harder.
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I love the song! It rings so true today. A few years back, I read a book, it talked about slavery, and how some slave owners, marched they're slaves to Texas for the very fact that they wanted to keep them bound as slaves and not let them go free. How disgusting it is to realize that in this country, our fellow Americans treated like people in this manner. I am glad that Juneteenth, celebrates their freedom, and it's sad to realize that it took a hole 2 and a 1/2 years after the emancipation proclamation for all people to be free.
Thanks for this marvelous piece. Shared on FB.
Now this regime is throwing women back as far as they can, especially the pentagon.
Thanks for your words and the video today, John. I needed it as live in small town Alabama and today at my gym heard a negative comment about the holiday tomorrow as the place is closed tomorrow.