Let America’s chorus ring

The first rendition of the Fourth of July, sung in 1776 from the script that was the Declaration of Independence, was written for a small choir. Not included in the vocal arrangements and never intending to be given any leads were the voices of darker brothers and sisters, the Indigenous brothers and sisters, and the white sisters.

Brilliant men capable of imagining an ingenious, if imperfect, form of government couldn’t imagine the richness and talent of the voices they were excluding or that races and genders different from their own should be heard.

But such was the system they created that through suffering and struggle, resistance and revolution, tenacity and talent, those voices forced their way on stage, expanding and making better and more equitable the democratic chorus that is America. These voices ringing out across the land have accents, lilts, brogues and inflections carrying the melodies of regions and the shadings of culture and heritage.

I, too, sing America.

I am the darker brother

They send me to eat in the kitchen When company comes,

But I laugh,

And eat well,

And grow strong.

Yet having to suffer, struggle and resist so often, seeing so many heroes, heroines and allies die to be included in the choir, is tiring and tests your allegiances and desire to sing. Decisions made by presidents, governors, legislatures and courts that put restrictions on your voice, encroach on your freedom and endanger you can shake you till you fall on your knees — and keep you kneeling on one in protest.

Still, we rise and still we sing, finding new and creative ways to interpret and expand the two great American songbooks of democracy so their lyrics have deeper meaning for all our lives.

Before a 1968 World Series game in Detroit, the Puerto Rican singer-songwriter JoséFeliciano sang a Latin-infused

Tomorrow,

I’ll be at the table When company comes. Nobody’ll dare

Say to me,

“Eat in the kitchen,” version of “The Star-Spangled Banner,” performing it with soulful and aching emotion. His performance was meant as a tribute and show of gratitude to a nation that had given him the opportunities to become a star, but it generated outrage, condemnation and death threats from those believing their national anthem should be performed in only the conventional

Then.

Besides,

They’ll see how beautiful I am And be ashamed—

I, too, am America. way.

Before the 1983 NBA All-Star Game, Marvin Gaye delivered the greatest rendition of the national anthem, layering the song with a Caribbean rhythm that transformed it into a sensual hymn, a love song to America, which had the players swaying and fans clapping with joy. It was less controversial than Feliciano’s, but was still offsetting to those who believed it should be performed only one way.

The Fourth of July is about the many different voices that make up the democratic chorus of America. Voices that interpret the country’s history, tell its many stories — good and bad — through their own experiences, melodies and rhythms.

But this Fourth of July arrives as many Americans feel their voices are being ignored or targeted for silence, and the democracy we celebrate has never seemed so fragile, literally under attack.

This Fourth of July arrives with knowledge of how far a sitting president of the United States and his mob were willing to go to overturn an election and the collective voice of American voters.

This Fourth of July arrives with a continued assault on voting rights.

This Fourth of July arrives with women, more than half of the population of the United States, having fewer rights and say over their bodies than they did last Fourth of July.

This is a Fourth of July not only for celebration but for reflection and rededicating ourselves for what it is we’re supposed to be celebrating.

This is a Fourth of July for finding and raising our voices and securing our inclusion in America’s democratic chorus.