We've found ourselves thinking about what the Statue of Liberty has always represented or maybe should have always represented.
It's been an interesting few years to be an American. Like many people, we've wrestled with how to reconcile our love for this country with our hope that it can continue growing into the ideals it has always claimed to stand for. Loving something doesn't mean believing it's perfect. Sometimes it means believing it's worth the work.
Recently, though, we've found ourselves feeling a renewed sense of pride. As visitors have poured into the United States for the World Cup, it's been heartwarming to watch people experience the parts of America we sometimes take for granted: the kindness of strangers, the incredible diversity from one neighborhood to the next, the food, the road trips, the landscapes, the energy of our cities, and the simple excitement of discovering somewhere new. At the same time, New York erupted in celebration as the Knicks won their first NBA Championship in 53 years, reminding us how sports can unite millions of people who otherwise have very little in common.
It feels like people are rediscovering America. Not because we've suddenly become something different, but because they're seeing the best parts of who we've always wanted to be.
That brought us back to Lady Liberty.
Most of us recognize her torch before anything else. We know the words from Emma Lazarus' poem: "Give me your tired, your poor, your huddled masses yearning to breathe free." She has long stood as a promise that America could be a place where people from every background might find opportunity, freedom, and a chance to build a new life.
But there's another detail that's easy to miss.
At her feet lie broken chains.
When sculptor Frédéric Auguste Bartholdi first conceived the monument, he imagined Liberty holding broken chains in her hand as a bold statement about the abolition of slavery and the triumph of freedom. That idea was considered too politically controversial, and the chains were ultimately moved to her feet instead. They're still there, quietly reminding us that liberty isn't simply inherited. It has to be defended, expanded, and extended to more people with every generation.
That story resonates with us because it reminds us that America has always been an aspiration as much as a place. Our greatest symbols don't ask us to believe we've already achieved our ideals. They ask us to keep reaching for them.
We think it's possible to be proud of this country while also believing it can do better. Those ideas aren't in conflict. In fact, they depend on each other.
The Lady Liberty Mini Minder is a small celebration of the America we hope continues to grow into its own promises: a country that welcomes people from around the world, embraces the incredible diversity that makes it unique, and never stops striving toward a fuller understanding of liberty and justice for all.
On this 4th of July, we don’t celebrate the country or government of America, but the people. All of the people, no matter where you or your family are from. The diversity of this country is what makes us great.