Freedom... to me

Freedom. What does it mean? I have been asked this question many a time in my life, though most often rhetorically so. Each time I give it thought, another piece fits in to the puzzle of what it means to be free, at least for me.

I was fortunate enough to be born in a country that enshrines at least an element of freedom within its constitution. I could go into the history of our founding documents, and perhaps I will sometime, but that is another discourse altogether. I grew up in a home, a world that espoused the ideals of freedom, but I didn’t really understand it.

One of the first lessons I was taught about freedom, is that it does not come freely, that it is paid for in blood. But again, it was a lesson I didn’t really understand, not until my teenage years, when my friends began going off to an unwinnable war. How can blood shed and innocence lost be justified by such an abstract idea as freedom? I saw so many hollowed out souls return that I lost what belief I had in blood-bought freedom. But now, with all that is happening in our world, I must once again question my prior assumptions.

The right to live with self-determination, I think that is the essence of what freedom means to me. To pursue the livelihood I want. To wake up each morning, not fearing death or incarceration because of my political beliefs. To follow whatever religion of my choice, without fear of persecution. To love the person of my choosing, regardless of race or gender. These are the core fundamentals of what freedom means to me.

This understanding of freedom has developed because of the many life lessons I have had to face over the years. Let me explain. Although my adolescence was surrounded by the rhetoric of freedom, in many ways that’s all it was: rhetoric. Growing up, I was taught that my country of origin, the United States of America, is the greatest place in the world. That our freedom of speech and right to bear arms set us far above anywhere else in the world, and in many ways they do. However, just because something is legal, doesn’t mean it’s right or good. Similarly, just because something is considered illegal doesn’t make it bad. For example, during World War II and the Holocaust, hiding and/or protecting Jews and other minorities was illegal in Nazi Germany and its territories, but it was the right thing to do. Unfortunately, what’s good versus what’s not isn’t generally so blatantly obvious. Life isn’t black and white, it exists in shades of grey. Ideally, we are far beyond the era of WWII, but in actuality we really aren’t, the stage has simply changed, the players shifted.

I might have grown up with the idea of freedom, but I lived in fear. Anyone who can control what you fear, can control you. I was afraid of death and persecution, both for political and religious reasons, albeit unnecessarily so. The first time I fell in love, I was afraid of going to hell, because relationships lead to sin, which leads to damnation. (That should be read, dripping with sarcasm.) I thought I was inherently evil because, you know, Eve in the garden (again, sarcasm), and of course because I got in trouble for quoting Yoda in Sunday school (not sarcastic, actually happened). As I got older and started seriously questioning the religious beliefs I’d grown up with, a whole new level of fear was instilled in me. The primary difference here being that I began to act and think in spite of it.

For all the rhetorical ideology of freedom that was prevalent in the conservative evangelical sub-culture I grew up in, I was not free to be me. Now, I feel it’s important to note that not all conservative evangelicals are this way, this was simply my overwhelming experience growing up. There are plenty who are truly, genuinely wonderful people that I’ve met as an adult. This isn’t about their ideology, it’s about my understanding of freedom.

For me, freedom can be boiled down to self-determination apart from fear, choice without reprisal. The ability to choose my political beliefs and party, whether that be democratic, republican, or something else. The ability to pursue a profession I’m passionate about, not just something that’s ‘appropriate.’ To be able to choose my own spiritual path, whether that be Christian, Pagan, Buddhist, or something else entirely. To be able to love for love’s sake, not because it is proper or religiously/culturally permissible. To think and reason for myself.

In this sense, my understanding of freedom is intrinsically connected to the idea of self-determinism. Ironically, self-determinism is, historically speaking, a very American ideology, it just wasn’t extended to everyone. But again, that’s another discussion entirely.