Before we got married, my fiancé and I had a conversation about independence.
Yeah, I know it’s kind of a weird topic for two people about to pledge their lives to each other. But it mattered to me. As excited as I was to build a life together, I didn’t want to lose myself in the process. I was all in on a shared life, but I also wanted to remain authentically me.
At the time, I thought I knew what independence meant. Looking back, I’m not so sure.
As the Fourth of July approached, I found myself thinking about that conversation. Not so much in the patriotic sense, but more of a personal one. So, I started asking friends a simple question: What does independence mean to you?
To be honest, the answers surprised me.
Some people immediately equated independence with freedom.
Travis, the lone man in a house with his wife and two little girls, immediately joked, “I do what I want when I want.”
Jay replied with two words: “Bobby Bonilla,” the New York Mets annual poster boy for financial freedom.
A friend from the gym said, “Getting stoned and skiing or mountain biking mid-week when the masses are at work is true freedom.”
“For me, it’s having agency over my own life,” said another. “The ability to make decisions for myself …. The lack of bodily autonomy that women currently experience is the polar opposite of independence.”
I found myself smiling as the text replies rolled in, thinking about how unique each reply was. I realized nobody was trying to define a word. Funny or dead serious, they were describing their lives.
For some, the question seemed to strike a nerve. As Sherri said, “Independence is when you run out of f—ks to give and realize no one gives a f—k anyway.” And Mike: “Do whatever the f—k you want.”
I laughed at how easily the F-bomb was hurled. But underneath the swagger was something surprisingly universal — the relief of no longer having to live up to someone else’s expectations.
Others see independence as freedom from something — bad habits, religion, control. As Mark said, “For me, it’s the state of freedom — of not being in bondage or servitude to an entity, person or habit that has unjust authority over me.”
That intrigued me — the idea of independence as the release of things that hold us back.
For some people, independence was about creativity and self-expression. My artist friend Kent said independence means “the ability to create as I please, to find truth in both sides of a discussion, to love who I want, to travel without worry, to choose my hobbies and beliefs, and to give where I want and can.”
The more I thought about Kent’s words, the more I realized he was describing the freedom to live a life that feels unmistakably his own.
There were those who reminded me that independence isn’t something everyone experiences equally. Like my friend Matt, a writer and a veteran, who views independence as a privilege. “It’s what comes with the ability to be self-sufficient in my white, middle-aged, employed male existence,” he said. “I can pursue the things I value — outdoors, fishing, hunting, writing. I know independence comes from institutional entitlement. … There’s not much I can do to change those roots except be sensitive to that fact, appreciate the opportunity I have and give back as best I can.”
Matt’s was the first reply to introduce the idea of gratitude. He recognized that freedom is about more than personal achievement. It’s also shaped by circumstances we don’t always get to choose. His independence comes from an awareness that not everyone gets to start from the same place.
Perhaps the most moving perspective came from someone who’s had a lifetime to think about the question. My friend Anita said, “At 84 years old, it’s not measured by how fast I walk or how much I can lift. Independence means purpose, continuing to write children’s books, take photographs, sing, learn new things and share my talents with others. As long as I have purpose, I have joy.”
Reading Anita’s words made me realize that independence is measured differently at different times in our lives. When we’re young, it might mean leaving home or making your own decisions. Later, it can become something infinitely more precious — the simple freedom to wake up in a home you love, to continue to do work that makes you happy, and to decide how you spend your day.
But it took my Australian friend Joel to offer the most insightful reflection on the eve of this most American of holidays: “On a broad scale, is independence even possible? Maybe this Fourth of July we can focus on independence and the people we depend on.”
I started out thinking that independence meant being true to myself. But after listening to so many different answers, I realize the question itself is the gift. It’s its own kind of mirror, revealing what matters most to each of us.
We celebrate independence not because we exist apart from one another, but because each of us hopes for the freedom to become more fully ourselves. And then to bring that self back into the lives we share with others.