"Redemption Song" (For a Nation That's Lost Its Way)

 

United: A Word, A Vision, A Responsibility

The word united comes from the Latin unitus, the past participle of unire, meaning “to unite” or “to join together.” It signifies a state of being made one—a collection of individuals or groups bound by a shared purpose, despite differences.

Why the United States of America?

When the original 13 colonies declared independence from British rule in 1776, they came together under the name The United States of America, a reflection of their collective defiance and aspiration for unity. The Declaration of Independence and later the Constitution were built on this foundation—a belief that individual liberties and state powers could coexist under a single, united nation. Yet, even from the start, unity was more aspirational than absolute. Slavery, Indigenous displacement, and unequal rights sowed divisions that challenged the very meaning of “united.”

What Would Our Forefathers Say Today?

If Thomas Jefferson could witness America today, he might be both amazed and dismayed. He would likely marvel at the expansion of individual rights and the technological advances that transformed communication, travel, and democracy. 

Yet, he might also express concern over the erosion of civil discourse, political polarization, and the disconnection between citizens and their government. Jefferson, who once wrote, "The care of human life and happiness… is the first and only legitimate object of good government," might warn us against complacency and call for a return to civic responsibility and reasoned debate.

Thomas Jefferson would have a great deal to say if he witnessed America today. Given his deep convictions about liberty, limited government, and the dangers of concentrated power, he would likely issue both a warning and a challenge. Here’s how I imagine Jefferson might express his thoughts, drawing from his own writings and philosophy.

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The preservation of liberty demands vigilance, yet I see a nation grown weary of its own defense

When I declared that ‘the tree of liberty must be refreshed from time to time with the blood of patriots and tyrants,’ I spoke not of reckless violence, but of the perpetual struggle against tyranny. I now see a different form of tyranny emerging—not of monarchs or kings, but of sprawling institutions, where private entities wield the powers once reserved for the people’s government. The consolidation of wealth into the hands of the few has led to the consolidation of power, creating a new form of aristocracy—corporate, faceless, and unchecked by the people’s voice.

I warned you that large governments become corrupt, and indeed they have. Yet, I see the opposite evil as well—a government too feeble to serve its people, its strings pulled by the rich and the ruthless. The influence of private interests upon public policy has made a mockery of representation. When banks and corporations dictate the course of law, when lobbyists pen your legislation, you no longer have a republic—you have a plutocracy.

I once wrote that ‘I am not a friend to a very energetic government,’ and indeed I am not. But I am far less a friend to a government that exists in name only—one ruled not by the people, but by conglomerates of wealth and industry. The great danger is not the presence of government, but the absence of the people in its chambers. You now have elections funded by the rich, policies shaped by the wealthy, and leaders indebted to interests that are neither local nor accountable.

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On Tyranny and the Erosion of Checks and Balances

I behold with sorrow the decline of your institutions, which I designed to safeguard against despotism. The separation of powers—once a mighty wall against tyranny—has been reduced to a crumbling fence, easily trampled by moneyed interests. The executive, once meant to execute the people’s will, has grown swollen with power; the legislative, once the people's voice, is now their broker; and the judiciary, meant to be a steady hand, appears increasingly the instrument of partisanship.

Beware the blurring of the branches. Beware the weakening of oversight. When the three estates no longer hold one another accountable, the people alone must do so. Yet I fear you have grown sluggish, lulled by comfort and spectacle, distracted from your own dispossession. Your news is reduced to entertainment. Your debates, to derision. Your attention, to fleeting outrage. Tyranny does not always arrive with a sword—it often comes quietly, wrapped in apathy and gilded with distraction.

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On Civil Discourse and Polarization

When I spoke of revolution, I spoke of reform—not the burning of cities, but the stirring of minds. I see now a nation divided not by principle, but by contempt. You speak not to persuade, but to conquer. You do not debate—you destroy. I fear the spirit of faction has made you cruel to one another, and cruelty is the enemy of liberty. To despise your fellow citizen is to weaken the foundation of your republic.

You must remember that free speech is not merely the right to speak, but the duty to listen. Disagreement, when conducted with reason, strengthens liberty. But contempt for dialogue invites despotism. The mob and the tyrant have one thing in common—they fear discourse, for it robs them of their power. Do not become the mob. Do not empower the tyrant. Be the citizen.

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On Technology and Its Dangers

I marvel at the genius of your age—the power of your machines, the speed of your commerce, the vastness of your knowledge. Yet I am troubled by the ease with which your liberties are sacrificed upon the altar of convenience. You carry devices that track your every step, surrendering your privacy for trifles. You barter your independence for speed, your agency for ease. Remember, no government ever seized liberty as swiftly as men have surrendered it for the promise of security or entertainment.

Your communication is swift, but is it wise? You now can speak to the entire world, yet you often choose only to hear echoes of yourself. Your technology connects you, but your discourse divides you. Beware a world in which your machines know you better than your neighbors, and your screens shape your mind more than your own judgment.

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Jefferson’s Call to Action

And yet, I do not despair, for the principles upon which your nation was founded remain as firm as ever. The Constitution was not meant to be a relic—it is a living framework. But it will only breathe so long as you breathe life into it. It will only stand if you stand for it.

You ask what must be done? I answer: Restore the people to their government. Let your representatives once again be your servants, not the servants of corporations. Strengthen your local governments, for power closest to the people is the most accountable. Educate your children in the workings of your democracy, lest they inherit its ruins. Demand honesty from your press, integrity from your leaders, and accountability from your courts. Be vigilant, but not vengeful. Be radical in your love of liberty, but steadfast in your practice of justice.

Let no man or institution become so mighty that it can silence you. Let no interest grow so powerful that it governs you without consent. For it is the people—not the kings of commerce or the princes of industry—who are the rightful rulers of this republic.

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Jefferson, ever the advocate for liberty and vigilance, would no doubt be both scathing and instructive. His message would be a warning against corporate tyranny, political corruption, and apathy, but also a call to restore civic responsibility and revive the spirit of self-governance.

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Frederick Douglass, the fiery abolitionist and statesman, would undoubtedly offer sharp but hopeful criticism. He once said, "The life of the nation is secure only while the nation is honest, truthful, and virtuous." 

Frederick Douglass' July 5, 1852 speech, “What to the Slave is the Fourth of July?”—one of the most scathing indictments of American hypocrisy ever delivered:

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"What, to the American slave, is your Fourth of July? I answer: a day that reveals to him, more than all other days in the year, the gross injustice and cruelty to which he is the constant victim. To him, your celebration is a sham; your boasted liberty, an unholy license; your national greatness, swelling vanity; your sounds of rejoicing are empty and heartless; your denunciation of tyrants, brass-fronted impudence; your shouts of liberty and equality, hollow mockery; your prayers and hymns, your sermons and thanksgivings, with all your religious parade and solemnity, are, to him, mere bombast, fraud, deception, impiety, and hypocrisy—a thin veil to cover up crimes which would disgrace a nation of savages.

There is not a nation on the earth guilty of practices more shocking and bloody than are the people of the United States, at this very hour."

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In this searing passage, Douglass doesn’t merely criticize—he exposes the deep contradiction between the ideals of freedom America claimed to represent and the brutal reality of slavery. He speaks not only to the physical bondage of Black Americans but also to the moral hypocrisy of a nation celebrating independence while denying it to millions.

Throughout the speech, Douglass also expresses hope—though not a naive one. He believes in the potential of America but warns that true freedom requires action, not empty rhetoric.

It’s easy to imagine that if he were here today, he would bring the same unflinching honesty, condemning America’s ongoing racial injustices while still urging its people to fight for the country’s unfulfilled promises.

Douglass would likely challenge us to live up to the ideals we profess—demanding action over words, courage over complacency, and equity over performative unity. He might say something along these lines:

Fictional Speech: What to the American citizen is the word United?

I am not here to celebrate sentiment, but to summon you to conscience. You drape yourselves in the word united while walking in disunion. You pledge allegiance to liberty while tolerating its betrayal. I see a nation swollen with wealth but impoverished in spirit—a land where justice is still rationed by the color of one’s skin, where the descendants of the enslaved fight still for full humanity.

When I spoke on July 5, 1852, I asked what the Fourth of July meant to the enslaved. Today, I ask: what does United mean to the disenfranchised, the Black mother mourning her son, the immigrant caged at your borders, or the indigenous elder watching his land devoured by greed? To them, United is a word unfulfilled—a promise unkept. You celebrate a union still fractured by the cruelty of systemic racism, the greed of the powerful, and the apathy of the comfortable.

You sing of freedom while gerrymandering democracy into fragments. You preach equality while defending systems that choke the life from Black bodies and build cages for brown children. I see a nation where voting rights are still bartered and equity is still debated as though it were a privilege, not a birthright. You cry out for unity, but you fear truth. There can be no unity without justice, no peace without accountability.

And yet, I do not despair. No, I will not yield to despair, for I have seen what the human spirit, when stirred by righteousness, can achieve. I remind you that this is not the first time this nation has staggered under the weight of its own hypocrisy. I remind you that even when the lash tore flesh from bone, my people sang of freedom. I remind you that justice is not the fruit of comfort, but of struggle. You can be united—but not through silence, not through feigned civility. Unity must be forged in truth. It must be carved by hard hands and fearless hearts.

Do not ask for shallow reconciliation. Ask for repair. Do not call for unity without first calling for justice. And know this: the future will belong not to those who cower behind flags and fences but to those who dare to wield the plow and the pen—the worker and the poet, the mother and the marcher, the young who demand more and the elders who remember why they marched before.

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Douglass' words would no doubt be blistering—a rebuke to complacency and a challenge to courage. His call would not be for a false, comfortable unity, but for one forged in the fires of justice, demanding America finally live up to its founding ideals.

How Do We Reclaim Unity?

To reclaim the feeling of being the United States of America, it will take intentional action at every level—government, community, schools, and families.

As Citizens:

• Practice civic engagement: Attend town halls, vote in local elections, and hold representatives accountable.

• Commit to dialogue: Engage with those who hold different perspectives. Civil discourse and active listening are the foundation of understanding.

• Serve locally: Volunteer and participate in community service projects that foster empathy and cooperation.

In Schools (K-12):

• Curriculum that promotes civic literacy: Schools should incorporate lessons on government, civil rights, and advocacy, not just in history classes but through service-learning projects.

• Collaborative problem-solving projects: Encourage students to work on real-world issues, fostering teamwork and empathy.

• Empathy-building activities: Use books, art, and discussion to explore diverse perspectives, helping students see the humanity in one another.

• Student-led initiatives: Create platforms for student voices—debates, peer mediation programs, and student government forums—empowering the next generation to engage meaningfully.

For Parents:

• Model respectful dialogue: Children learn how to treat others by observing their parents. Demonstrate empathy and respect in discussions, even during disagreements.

• Teach civic responsibility: Involve children in community activities, such as volunteering or attending local meetings.

• Promote media literacy: Help children discern credible news sources and think critically about the information they consume.

Moving Forward

Unity doesn’t mean uniformity—it means holding space for differences while still working toward common goals. It’s time to revive the spirit of collaboration, empathy, and shared responsibility. Let’s not just be called the United States—let’s live as the United States.

XOXO,

Whimsey Jenny