Work in Progress #17: Loud as the Rolling Sea

As a nation, the United States engages with its national anthem more than any other country on Earth.  Most of the time, national anthems are customarily played either at events where matters of state and public interest align (military parades and national holidays, for instance), or in events where one country is in direct—usually friendly—sporting competition with one another (the World Cup, international games, or the Olympics).  But we play our anthem before every sporting event, in every city, for every sport, alongside political speeches, national holidays, hell, even some weddings.  It’s historically been played on local TV stations at about 4:00 AM to signify the end of the broadcast day.  Conservatively, we play the anthem an average of 8600 times per year, and that’s just counting televised college and professional sports.  That translates to hearing the song an average of 23.5 times per day.  The Star-Spangled Banner plays roughly once an hour, every hour, every single day.  And heaven help you if you’re not standing with your hat off, hand over heart, every time it’s in earshot.

"And the rocket's red glaaaaaare..."

We interact with this hallowed declaration of our patriotism so frequently that, to my observation, it just lives in the background and people don’t really examine it.  Kind of like how Every Breath You Take by The Police is a cool song to play at a senior prom until you listen to the words.  And when you dissect the song—usually taken from the first verse of Francis Scott Key’s poem The Defence of Fort M’Henry about the Siege of Baltimore in the War of 1812—it’s a bit disturbing.  Where most other countries’ anthems are celebrations of the country or its people, ours is a celebration of war—specifically a war that, for all intents and purposes, we did not win.

In Trevor Noah’s recent Netflix comedy special Where Was I, he likens the anthem to a Michael Bay movie, with missiles flying and stuff exploding all over the place.  You can almost imagine the writer walking through the battlefield in slow-motion (if you didn’t know that he wrote the poem while he and his truce ship were detained by the British Navy).  And if the song you sing as a nation is the first impression a stranger gets of you, what does The Star-Spangled Banner say about us?

Here's where we get controversial, especially in the wake of the brouhaha about the Super Bowl, Taylor Swift, and partisan pearl-clutching: I think a change is in order.  We can, and should, change our national anthem, and I humbly submit Lift Ev’ry Voice and Sing by James Weldon Johnson.

Lift every voice and sing,

'Til earth and heaven ring,

Ring with the harmonies of Liberty;

Let our rejoicing rise

High as the list'ning skies,

Let it resound loud as the rolling sea.

Sing a song full of the faith that the dark past has taught us,

Sing a song full of the hope that the present has brought us;

Facing the rising sun of our new day begun,

Let us march on 'til victory is won.

For those of you unfamiliar with the song it was written at the end of the 19th century as a celebration of emancipation, an acknowledgement that the work wasn’t yet complete, and a statement of resolve to see it through.  The first verse of the song—done complete justice by Andra Day at the Super Bowl—has been known as the Black National Anthem for generations, much to the faux-outrage of people like Matt Gaetz and Megyn Kelly.  It has seen a rise in prominence at sporting events that are heavily populated by, or played by Black people, especially since the very public murder of George Floyd in 2020.  The NFL has played the song before The Star-Spangled Banner­ at the first game of the season as well as at the Super Bowl ever since.  And even though no one can fault you for finding this gesture an insulting half-measure by the NFL given their stance on the subject in the last decade or so—I know I do, and Colin Kaepernick probably agrees with me—you can’t deny that the song’s lyrics promote a more healing kind of mindset.  It encourages people to work together, not in the name of some stubbornly tattered flag, but for the betterment of everyone involved.  And while I acknowledge that this is probably third-grade idealism, especially given our current political climate, if a song has that kind of power, we should let it do that. 

Hand-over-heart is supposed to signify a promise, and what better promise is there than that we face the rising sun together?