What We Choose to Stand For Still Matters

Happy 4th of July, friends.

Today has always held a special significance for me and my family. It’s not just Independence Day, it was also my parents’ wedding anniversary. My dad, an American, married my mom, a Mexican immigrant, and he used to say, “This way the whole country will celebrate with us every year.”

And we did–every year.

My dad has since passed, but that love story lives on. My mom still cries on the 4th. She cheers loudly for the fireworks and yells “God bless America!” with pride in her voice. She’s a naturalized citizen who fought for her place in this country, and she has never once taken it for granted.

And my grandfather, he fought for this country in World War II. He believed in America’s promise enough to risk everything for it. That kind of sacrifice, that kind of patriotism, shaped the generations that followed.

Last year, I attended the July 4th celebration on the White House grounds. It was the first time I had set foot there since the day I resigned from my role in Mike Pence’s office during the first Trump administration. My mom stood beside me, proudly waving the American flag, cheering, even shaking hands with the President and Vice President. But as I stood on the White House lawn in the summer of 2024, I had an unexpected emotional response. I was overwhelmed. The memories of what I had witnessed during my tenure came flooding back. So did the dread of what I feared could come next—the erosion of institutions, the abuse of power, the cruelty I had seen firsthand. I felt the weight of the unknown ahead of another election. Tears welled up. I still cannot go near the White House grounds without that emotion rising again. I carry that weight with me every single day, in a way most will never fully understand. And I hope, someday, it fades.

Yet, even in that moment of heaviness, I was reminded of what I’m fighting for. Of the country, I still believe we can be. Not the version corrupted by fear and power, but the one shaped by courage, compassion, and possibility. I believed in that vision then. And I believe in it even more now, because what we stand to lose, and are already losing, has never been clearer. Now, the fears I carried and the warnings I spoke aloud are no longer abstract to people. They're playing out before our eyes.

That vision, the one defined by courage, compassion, and possibility, isn’t some distant ideal. It’s the America I love. The one that opens its arms. That believes in freedom and opportunity. That says there’s room for you here. That stands up for each other, and for what’s right.

I worry about how immigrants are being targeted. About American citizens being profiled and treated like outsiders in their own country. About how the rule of law is being bent by those who swore to uphold it. I see political violence being normalized, journalists demonized, and voting rights quietly dismantled.

And I’m deeply concerned for the 17 million people who are projected to lose their healthcare under what’s been proudly branded the “Big Beautiful Bill.” Quietly, devastatingly, it's working families who will bear the cost. It devastates me that our fellow Americans in rural communities will be among the most deeply affected, many of whom likely don’t realize the magnitude of the policies being passed in Washington that will reshape their lives. These cuts may not make headlines in their towns, but they will show up in closed clinics, skipped treatments, and lives cut short.

These aren’t just policy debates. They are attacks on the very ideals this country claims to stand for. The world is watching America. And what we choose to stand for matters.

The reality is that there is a declining national pride across our country, especially among young people. I understand why. If you feel disillusioned, you’re not alone. Feeling less proud doesn’t make you unpatriotic. It means you’re paying attention. It means you care. But that doesn’t mean we give up.It means we fight harder to reclaim what’s worth being proud of.

Patriotism isn’t about unquestioning loyalty. It’s about refusing to let those who seek power through division and fear define what this country is or what it can be. This is our country. These are our neighbors. Don’t let those who want control take the best of America away from us. The freedoms. The ideals. The imperfect but enduring dream of a country built for everyone, not just a chosen few.

Today, as we mark this country's birthday, I hope we do more than just light fireworks. I hope we reflect.

Because this country has always been about something bigger than any one person or party, and when our leaders fall short, we can still rise to the challenge. So let’s be brave. Let’s be strong. Let’s carry each other with love, grit, and hope. That’s how I was raised. And I refuse to give up. The future of this country depends on it.

And if you’re reflecting on what it truly means to defend freedom, not just in name, but in principle, I urge you to read this piece by someone I’m honored to call a friend, Judge J. Michael Luttig. His words remind us what is at stake. Thanks to Ryan Lizza for publishing it. You can read it: HERE.

Wishing you peace, strength, and reflection this Independence Day.🇺🇸

-Olivia