what does freedom mean to me

freedom, to me, is a word with blood on it.

as a black and mexican lesbian, i’ve never been handed freedom. not from this country. not from this system. and definitely not from capitalism, which calls my labor valuable but my life disposable. freedom is something they use in speeches but deny in policy. something they print on t-shirts while funding police. something they dangle in front of you just far enough that your arms get tired reaching.

i believe no one is free under capitalism, because how can we be, when everything is a transaction? when my survival depends on how much i produce, how much i sell, how quiet i can make my rage? capitalism doesn’t just own my time, it rents out my future, gentrifies my dreams, and leaves me too exhausted to imagine anything else. so what is freedom to me?

freedom is rest without guilt.
freedom is joy without a price tag.
freedom is safety, not just from violence, but from scarcity.
freedom is loving who i love without fear.
freedom is seeing my people thrive, not just survive.

freedom is the absence of cages, both the literal and the invisible ones. it’s no longer having to shrink myself to fit inside systems that were never built for me. it’s not individual success. it’s collective liberation. because if only a few of us are free, then none of us are.

so no, i don’t think i’ve ever felt true freedom.
but i believe in fighting for it anyway.
not the kind you vote for and wait.
the kind you build from the ground up.

i wish i knew
how it would feel to be free,
nina sang it,
but did she feel it?
did the notes carry her
past the riot of skin and silence,
or just deeper into it?

i hear that song
and think:
freedom must feel like breath
that doesn’t tremble.
like walking in love
without watching your back.
like rest
that doesn’t need to be earned.

i wish i could
break all the chains holding me,
but some of them
look like paychecks.
some of them
sound like praise.

let freedom ring, ill keep on singing