Ayanna Pressley in the 119th Congress. Under the Speaker's announced policy of January 3, 2025, Ms. Pressley of Massachusetts is recognized for the remainder of the hour as the designee of the minority leader.) Ms. PRESSLEY.
Full text
Under the Speaker's announced policy of January 3, 2025, Ms. Pressley of Massachusetts is recognized for the remainder of the hour as the designee of the minority leader.)
Ms. PRESSLEY. Mr. Speaker, in 1852, Frederick Douglass, an abolitionist, orator, and formerly enslaved man, delivered one of America's most famous speeches: “What to the Slave Is the Fourth of July?”
millions. With moral clarity and urgency, he exposed the stark contradiction between America's founding ideals and the lived reality of Black people, calling out a democracy that had excluded those who it claimed to liberate.
resonates. Black Americans continue to confront systemic inequities that have been legislated and codified. Douglass' words endure as both a mirror and a mandate, revealing uncomfortable truths while urging us to fight for an America as good as its promise.
this vital tradition through public readings of Douglass' speech across the Commonwealth of Massachusetts, ensuring that its message continues to educate, challenge, and inspire new generations.
“What to the Slave Is the Fourth of July?”
Mr. President, Friends, and Fellow Citizens:
The task before me is one which requires much previous
thought and study for its proper performance. The papers and
placards say that I am to deliver a Fourth of July oration.
This certainly sounds large, and out of the common way, for
it is true that I have often had the privilege to speak in
this beautiful Hall, and to address many who now honor me
with their presence. The fact is, ladies and gentlemen, the
distance between this platform and the slave plantation, from
which I escaped, is considerable—and the difficulties to be
overcome in getting from the latter to the former are by no
means slight. That I am here today is, to me, a matter of
astonishment as well as of gratitude.
This, for the purpose of this celebration, is the Fourth of
July. It is the birthday of your National Independence, and
of your political freedom. This, to you, is what the Passover
was to the emancipated people of God. It carries your minds
back to the day, and to the act of your great deliverance.
This celebration also marks the beginning of another year
of your national life; and reminds you that the Republic of
America is now 76 years old. I am glad, fellow-citizens, that
your nation is so young.
You are, even now, only in the beginning of your national
career, still lingering in the period of childhood. I repeat,
I am glad this is so. There is hope in the thought, and hope
is much needed, under the dark clouds which lower above the
horizon.
Fellow-citizens, the simple story is that, 76 years ago,
the people of this country were British subjects. The style
and title of your “sovereign people” (in which you now
glory) was not then born. You were under the British Crown.
Your fathers esteemed the English Government as the home
government. England as the fatherland, although a
considerable distance from your home, impose, in the exercise
of its parental prerogatives, upon its colonial children such
restraints, burdens and limitations, as, in its mature
judgment, it deemed wise, right, and proper.
But your fathers, who had not adopted the idea of the
infallibility of government, and the absolute character of
its acts, presumed to differ from the home government in
respect to the wisdom and the justice of some of those
burdens and restraints. They went so far as to pronounce the
measures of government unjust, unreasonable, and oppressive,
and altogether such as ought not to be quietly submitted to.
I scarcely need say, fellow-citizens, that my opinion of
those measures fully accords with that of your fathers.
Feeling themselves harshly and unjustly treated by the home
government, your fathers, like men of honesty, and men of
spirit, earnestly sought redress. They petitioned and
remonstrated; they did so in a decorous, respectful, and
loyal manner. This, however, did not answer the purpose. They
saw themselves treated with sovereign indifference, coldness,
and scorn.
Oppression makes a wise man mad. Your fathers became
restive under this treatment. They felt themselves the
victims of grievous wrongs, wholly incurable in their
colonial capacity. With brave men there is always a remedy
for oppression. Just here, the idea of a total separation of
the colonies from the crown was born! It was a startling
idea, much more so, than we, at this distance of time, regard
it. The timid and the prudent of that day, were, of course,
shocked and alarmed by it. Their opposition to the then-
dangerous thought was earnest and powerful; but, amid all
their terror and affrighted vociferations against it, the
alarming and revolutionary idea moved on, and the country
with it.
{time} 1850
On the Second of July, 1776, the old Continental Congress,
to the dismay of the lovers of ease, and the worshippers of
property, clothed that dreadful idea with all the authority
of national sanction. They did so in the form of a
resolution. We seldom hit upon resolutions, drawn up in our
day, whose transparency is at all equal it: “Resolved, That
these united colonies are, and of right, ought to be free and
Independent States; that they are absolved from all
allegiance to the British Crown.”
Citizens, your fathers made good that resolution. They
succeeded; and today you reap the fruits of their success.
The freedom gained is yours; and you, therefore, may properly
celebrate this anniversary. The Fourth of July is the first
great fact in your nation's history—the very ring-bolt in
the chain of your yet undeveloped destiny.
My business, if I have any here today, is with the present.
The accepted time with God and his cause is the ever-living
now. We have to do with the past only as we can make it
useful to the present and to the future. Now is the time, the
important time. Your fathers have lived, died, and have done
their work, and have done much of it well. You live and must
die, and you must do your work. You have no right to enjoy a
child's share in the labor of your fathers, unless your
children are to be blest by your labors. You have no right to
wear out and waste the hard-earned fame of your fathers to
cover your indolence.
Fellow-citizens, pardon me, allow me to ask, why am I
called upon to speak here today? What have I, or those I
represent, to do with your national independence? Are the
great principles of political freedom and of natural justice,
embodied in that Declaration of Independence, extended to us?
And am I, therefore, called upon to bring our humble offering
to the national altar, and to confess the benefits and
express devout gratitude for the blessings resulting from
your independence to us?
The blessings in which you, this day, rejoice, are not
enjoyed in common. The rich inheritance of justice, liberty,
prosperity and independence, bequeathed by your fathers, is
shared by you, not by me. The sunlight that brought life and
healing to you, has brought stripes and death to me. This
Fourth of July is yours, not mine. You may rejoice; I must
mourn. To drag a man in fetters into the grand illuminated
temple of liberty, and call upon him to join you in joyous
anthems, were inhuman mockery and sacrilegious irony. Do you
mean, citizens, to mock me, by asking me to speak today?
Fellow citizens; above your national, tumultuous joy, I hear
the mournful wail of millions, whose chains, heavy and
grievous yesterday, are, today, rendered more intolerable by
the jubilee shouts that reach them.
My subject, then, fellow-citizens, is American slavery. I
shall see this day and its popular characteristics, from the
slave's point of view. Standing here identified with the
American bondman, making his wrongs mine, I do not hesitate
to declare, with all my soul, that the character and conduct
of this nation never looked blacker to me than on this Fourth
of July! Whether we turn to the declarations of the past, or
to the professions of the present, the conduct of the nation
seems equally hideous and revolting. America is false to the
past, false to the
present, and solemnly binds herself to be false to the
future.
Standing with God and the crushed and bleeding slave on
this occasion, I will, in the name of humanity which is
outraged, in the name of liberty which is fettered, in the
name of the Constitution and the Bible, which are disregarded
and trampled upon, dare to call in question and to denounce,
with all the emphasis I can command, everything that serves
to perpetuate slavery—the great sin and shame of America!
“I will not equivocate; I will not excuse;” I will use the
severest language I can command; and yet not one word shall
escape me that any man, whose judgment is not blinded by
prejudice, or who is not at heart a slaveholder, shall not
confess to be right and just.
I fancy I hear some one of my audience say, it is just in
this circumstance that you and your brother abolitionists
fail to make a favorable impression on the public mind. Would
you argue more, and denounce less, would you persuade more,
and rebuke less, your cause would be much more likely to
succeed. But, I submit, where all is plain there is nothing
to be argued. What point in the anti-slavery creed would you
have me argue?
Must I undertake to prove that the slave is a man? The
slaveholders themselves acknowledge it in the enactment of
laws for their government. They acknowledge it when they
punish disobedience on the part of the slave. There are 72
crimes in the State of Virginia, which, if committed by a
black man, subject him to the punishment of death; while only
two of the same crimes will subject a white man to the like
punishment. What is this but the acknowledgement that the
slave is a moral, intellectual and responsible being?
Southern statute books are covered with enactments
forbidding, under severe fines and penalties, the teaching of
the slave to read or to write. When you can point to any such
laws, in reference to the beasts of the field, then I may
consent to argue the manhood of the slave. When the dogs in
your streets, when the fowls of the air, when the cattle on
your hills, when the fish of the sea, and the reptiles that
crawl, shall be unable to distinguish the slave from a brute,
then will I argue with you that the slave is a man!
For the present, it is enough to affirm the equal manhood
of the Negro race. Is it not astonishing that, while we are
ploughing, planting and reaping, using all kinds of
mechanical tools, erecting houses, constructing bridges,
building ships, working in metals of brass, iron, copper,
silver and gold; that, while we are reading, writing and
cyphering, acting as clerks, merchants and secretaries,
having among us lawyers, doctors, ministers, poets, authors,
editors, orators and teachers; that, while we are engaged in
all manner of enterprises common to other men, digging gold
in California, capturing the whale in the Pacific, feeding
sheep and cattle on the hillside, living, moving, acting,
thinking, planning, living in families as husbands, wives and
children, and, above all, confessing and worshipping the
Christian's God, and looking hopefully for life and
immortality beyond the grave, we are called upon to prove
that we are men!
Would you have me argue that man is entitled to liberty?
That he is the rightful owner of his own body? You have
already declared it. Must I argue the wrongfulness of
slavery? Is that a question for Republicans? Is it to be
settled by the rules of logic and argumentation, as a matter
beset with great difficulty, involving a doubtful application
of the principle of justice, hard to be understood? How
should I look today, in the presence of Americans, to show
that men have a natural right to freedom? To do so, would be
to make myself ridiculous, and to offer an insult to your
understanding. There is not a man beneath the canopy of
Heaven that does not know that slavery is wrong for him.
{time} 1900
What, am I to argue that it is wrong to make men brutes, to
rob them of their liberty, to work them without wages, to
keep them ignorant of their relations to their fellow men, to
beat them with sticks, to flay their flesh with the lash, to
load their limbs with irons, to hunt them with dogs, to sell
them at auction, to sunder their families, to knock out their
teeth, to burn their flesh, to starve them into obedience and
submission to their masters? Must I argue that a system thus
marked with blood, and stained with pollution, is wrong? No,
I will not. I have better employments for my time and
strength than such arguments would imply.
What, then, remains to be argued? Is it that slavery is not
divine; that God did not establish it; that our doctors of
divinity are mistaken? There is blasphemy in the thought.
That which is inhuman, cannot be divine! Who can reason on
such a proposition? I cannot. The time for such argument is
past.
At a time like this, scorching irony, not convincing
argument, is needed. O! Had I the ability, and could I reach
the Nation's ear, I would, today, pour out a fiery stream of
biting ridicule, blasting reproach, withering sarcasm, and
stern rebuke. For it is not light that is needed, but fire;
it is not the gentle shower, but thunder. We need the storm,
the whirlwind, and the earthquake. The feeling of the Nation
must be quickened; the conscience of the Nation must be
roused; the propriety of the Nation must be startled; the
hypocrisy of the Nation must be exposed; and its crimes
against God and man must be proclaimed and denounced.
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 denunciations 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 these United
States, at this very hour. Go where you may, search where you
will, roam through all the monarchies and despotisms of the
old world, search out every abuse, and when you have found
the last, lay your facts by the side of the everyday
practices of this Nation, and you will say with me, that, for
revolting barbarity and shameless hypocrisy, America reigns
without a rival.
You declare, before the world, and are understood by the
world to declare, that you “hold these truths to be self-
evident, that all men are created equal; and are endowed by
their creator with certain inalienable rights; and that,
among these are, life, liberty, and the pursuit of
happiness;” and yet, you hold securely, in a bondage which,
according to your own Thomas Jefferson, “is worse than ages
of that which your fathers rose in rebellion to oppose,” a
seventh part of the inhabitants of your country.
Fellow citizens! I will not enlarge further on your
national inconsistencies. The existence of slavery in this
country brands your republicanism as a sham, your humanity as
a base pretense, and your Christianity as a lie. It destroys
your moral power abroad; it corrupts your politicians at
home. It saps the foundation of religion; it makes your name
a hissing, and a byword to a mocking Earth. Be warned! A
horrible reptile is coiled up in your Nation's bosom; the
venomous creature is nursing at the tender breast of your
youthful Republic; for the love of God, tear away, and fling
from you the hideous monster, and let the weight of twenty
millions, crush and destroy it forever!
Allow me to say, in conclusion, notwithstanding the dark
picture I have this day presented of the state of the Nation,
I do not despair of this country. There are forces in
operation, which must inevitably work the downfall of
slavery. I, therefore, leave off where I began, with hope.
While drawing encouragement from the Declaration of
Independence, the great principles it contains, and the
genius of American Institutions, my spirit is cheered by the
obvious tendencies of the age. Nations do not now stand in
the same relation to each other that they did ages ago. No
nation can now shut itself up from the surrounding world, and
trot round in the same old path of its fathers without
interference.
The time was when such could be done. But a change has now
come over the affairs of mankind. Walled cities and empires
have become unfashionable. The arm of commerce has borne away
the gates of the strong city. Intelligence is penetrating the
darkest corners of the globe. It makes its pathway over and
under the sea, as well as on the Earth. Wind, steam, and
lightning are its chartered agents. Oceans no longer divide,
but link nations together. From Boston to London is now a
holiday excursion. Space is comparatively annihilated.
Thoughts expressed on one side of the Atlantic, are
distinctly heard on the other. In the fervent aspirations of
William Lloyd Garrison, I say, and let every heart join in
saying it:
God speed the day when human blood shall cease to flow!
In every clime be understood, the claims of human
brotherhood,
And each return for evil, good,
Not blow for blow;
That day will come all feuds to end,
And change into a faithful friend each foe.
Mr. Speaker, I yield back the balance of my time.