America, U.S.A.: How Race Shadows the Nation's Anniversaries

by Eddie S. Glaude Jr.

The New York Times bestselling author of Begin Again invites us to confront America’s unfinished story—a blistering reassessment of race, freedom, and the myths that bind us.

Celebrated public intellectual Eddie S. Glaude, Jr. returns with a groundbreaking book about the vicious cycles of American history and the country’s enduring refusal to face its true nature—especially at the moments when national anniversaries steer us back toward the mythology meant to disguise the truth.

America, U.S.A., deliberately formulated and beautifully written, details a heart-wrenching exploration of America’s legacy. It is a magnificently complex combination of voices and lessons that, together, paint a sprawling and honest tableau of the United States, its complicated past, and ever more tenuous future. Glaude’s is a powerful voice of conscience in our tumultuous world, and his writing will undoubtedly leave you reeling yet ready for more. He pulls no punches, calling on us to interrogate our conceptions of innocence and freedom and the stories we tell ourselves about our past and present.

Centered around the major celebrations of America’s birthday across 250 years of history, the book offers a riveting look at the battles over who has a stake in the American story. Devastatingly candid, profoundly moving, and deeply reflective, America, U.S.A. is a shining meditation on how we might reckon with a grim past in order to strive for the better angels of our future.

Genres: History, Nonfiction, Politics, Race, Audiobook, Social Justice, African American

288 pages, Hardcover

First published January 1, 2026

About the author

Eddie S. Glaude Jr. is the James S. McDonnell Distinguished University Professor at Princeton University and author of Democracy in Black.

Reviews

[Clif Hostetler · Rating 3 out of 5]

This book combines history, philosophy, and political critique to expose a "double consciousness" in the United States—an ongoing tension between viewing the country (1) as united on ideas of freedom, liberty, democracy, versus (2) as a republic rooted in racial hierarchy (i.e. White supremacy & Christian). By examining the status of racial conditions at various milestone anniversaries this book shows how the nation's uneven racial progress inevitably led to white rage and backlash.

These celebrations are perceived to be a time of self appraisal and reflection, but in reality the versions of history remembered at such times are the storybook versions free of blemish. This usually means ignoring the existence and contributions of racial minorities yielding a memory of white culture with black and brown life missing.

The 1876 centennial celebration occurred at crucial time in American history when post Civil War Reconstruction was losing momentum, white southerners were regaining political power, and northerners were tired of fighting old battles. Most historians generally date the end of Reconstruction to be a year later in 1877 when the role of federal troops in regional politics was reduced.

The 150th anniversary arrived in 1925 midst a resurgent Ku Klux Klan which was pushing for a more restrictive immigration law aimed at keeping America a "Nordic" nation. It's interesting to note that much of today's calls for reduction of immigration and removal of undocumented person's are eerily similar to the immigration law passed in 1924 that was very much inspired by the Ku Klux Klan.

... quotas restricted entry into the country from southern eastern, and Central Europe—rejecting "the degraded races of Europe." Immigrants from the Pacific were effectively declared "ineligible to citizenship." (Donald Trump's reference to "shithole countries" has historical precedence after all.) This view shaped American immigration policy until Congress passed the Immigration and Nationality Act of 1965. In fact, though it is rarely explicitly stated, much of the political debate on the right around immigration today concerns repealing that 1965 legislation and returning to what we had in 1924—an immigration policy unquestionably shaped by the Ku Klux Klan. (p.122 of 271)

The 1976 Bicentennial occurred after the resurgent 1960s civil rights era thus Black presence on the national scene could not be ignored as it had been in the past. However, it was perceived to be a malaise-ridden time following Vietnam, Watergate, and Nixon's resignation.

Now in 2026 the author shares his despair by dismissing this year's Semiquincentennial as reaching back “to a storybook America that requires either the banishment of Black people from view or the reduction of our role in the country’s history, so as to affirm America’s ongoing quest to be a more perfect union.”

[Traci Thomas · Rating 4 out of 5]

A poetic reflection on the promises not kept by the United States since its founding, framed through historic events during pivotal years and the parallels we see in modern times. Glaude is thoughtful, well-read, and a powerful communicator. His prose are lush and elongated and the passion he has for the history of the country come through loud and clear. There were moments where I really struggled with the overall hopelessness of the book. In places it feels that Glaude is arguing that any progress in America is moot because the country remains deeply racist and hateful. And while yes, this country ain’t shit, I do think that outlook erases strides that have been made and makes me question the audience for this book. I am not even a glass half full person, but this book made me feel pollyannaish at times.

[Betsy Robinson · Rating 5 out of 5]

Eddie Glaude has eloquently and furiously spelled out America's dual personality because of our refusal to reckon with our truth.

I highlighted so much and am sure at some point I will go back through what I've marked—to quote it, remind myself, or just because.

Each chapter opens and closes with musical notation. Together they make up a piece of music which you can hear at 13:14 into this link here. (I have not watched the whole program.) The music is bluesy which is Glaude's final view of the problem in the USA: we are a country, a population with a blues undercurrent, and there is beauty in that, but we still refuse to acknowledge our whole complicated music.

[Freeman Fridie · Rating 5 out of 5]

Professor Glaude tells the other side of the story. Brilliant.

[Courtney Ferriter · Rating 4 out of 5]

** 4 stars **

Weirdly, this book made me feel both depressed AND somewhat more optimistic about our country. Glaude discusses the 250th anniversary of the United States by looking back at the socio-political context and rhetoric surrounding the 100, 150, and 200-year celebrations. As implied by the book's subtitle, his focus is on how race is discussed (or, more to the point, NOT discussed) during the historic and current celebrations of the founding of the United States.

I was depressed by his entirely accurate observation that the United States was founded on hypocrisy: our Founding Fathers wrote into the Declaration of Independence and the Constitution lofty ideals of equality, the rights of men, freedom, and democracy, and yet in practice they allowed and sometimes even encouraged enslavement of people. This led me to wonder that if the U.S. as a nation was founded on hypocrisy, wherein we say "these are our values" but don't uphold them for everyone equally, and we continue to do that to this day, then can we ever really change?

What gave me a bit of hope was Glaude's discussion of how historic anniversaries in the country's founding seem to coalesce around divisive rhetoric and backlash to previous racial progress that has been achieved. As a Millennial, I came of age during a time of technological progress and economic prosperity (1990s and early 2000s), which was followed by a time of gains for LGBTQ+ rights and the historic election of the first Black president of the United States. Now clearly, this progress was followed by a harsh backlash in the MAGA/alt-right movement and the election of You-Know-Who to office twice. But I am more hopeful after reading this book that the pendulum will swing back toward the side of progress again (despite the fact that it oftentimes feels like the U.S. takes one step forward and two steps backward in terms of realizing democracy and equal rights).

Anyway, I would recommend this book if you enjoy nonfiction, especially about the politics of race in the United States.

[Reading · Rating 3 out of 5]

3.5 Having listened to a podcast (On The Media) where the author spoke about the subject in this book I was intrigued and impressed sufficiently enough to order it from the library. No doubt, Mr Glaude is a fantastic writer. The subject matter is upsetting, infuriating, and critical for understanding how we got here and where we are heading, Most importantly this book is thoroughly researched, but unfortunately... despite it being less then 300 pgs it still felt too long and repetitive.

Granted, some of the repetition just goes with the awful fact that the patterns of racial segregation and prejudice he is describing keep repeating. For me I would have preferred this material being presented as a long form magazine article or a shorter book. I find myself wanting to stop reading and read the source material from W.E.B. DuBois and Baldwin.

I don't regret reading but it was moderately disappointing for me.


Sidenote/observation - this author is angry. This is certainly understandable given the state of racial justice, opportunities, representation, etc in the USA. I kinda appreciated that this emotion occasionally was evident in the writing.

[Mr. Mccane · Rating 5 out of 5]

This was one of my most anticipated reads. I read it during the week of Independence Day, and it definitely hit harder because of it. The timing felt especially fitting since the author titled Chapter Two, “What Is the Fourth of July to Us?”

Some of you may think, “We get at least one book on Black history every year,” but that’s honestly the point I’m getting at. So often, we as Black Americans have had awful experiences in this country, so many that there could be a hundred books about our experiences without repeating the same stories.

The author is an educator and the narrator of the audiobook. I immersive-read this book using both the hardcover and the audiobook.

This book discusses how America often receives praise while omitting Black American contributions from its historical accounts. I really enjoyed this book, and I hope I’ll still be alive to see the day when, if ever, this country truly becomes a beacon of freedom.

[Allie Bush · Rating 5 out of 5]

Awesome concept for a book and beautifully written. Invokes a deep-rooted view of America as two nations, split by a “love of country” and the overwhelming desire to return to a classic, storybook tale of a more perfect union. Glaude writes so frankly about decades of presidential leadership.

[Brian Shevory · Rating 5 out of 5]

Many thanks to Crown Publishing and NetGalley for sharing an advanced copy of the urgent and necessary new book America, U.S.A.: How Race Shadows the Nation’s Anniversaries by Princeton professor Eddie S. Glaude Jr. I read and thoroughly enjoyed Glaude’s book Begin Again about 5 years ago. I found that book, which uses James Baldwin’s works and ideas as a way to examine race and injustice in America in the 21st century, to be both critical and hopeful in making the case that America has continuously faced issues of racial injustice, but that Baldwin’s writings and ideas can provide useful insight to examine these issues. Glaude never presents the ideas as solutions, but rather uses Baldwin’s life and experiences as like a lens for seeking understanding and contextualizing issues of race, injustice, violence, and inequality that we’ve experienced during the 21st century. I really appreciated how hopeful the book is while maintaining a critical eye on the injustice. Furthermore, I loved how Glaude revisits Baldwin, using literature, essays, and criticism to explore how other great thinkers and writers have navigated challenging times. I wasn’t necessarily expecting the same thing, but America, U.S.A. takes on an entirely different tone and approach in examining the existential questions surrounding the coming semi-quincentennial (250th anniversary) of the founding of the country. Nevertheless, like Begin Again, Glaude turns to other writers, thinkers, and activists, as well as the history of other celebrations of America’s founding, to examine how ideas of history and race have been co-opted, revised, or excluded in order to redefine the idea of America. Although this is a challenging and difficult book to read, it felt like the book I needed to read at this time, as I’ve been inundated with images of flags, stars, stripes, and Uncle Sams presented in a celebratory manner that don’t always seem to reflect my own complicated feelings about the country.
Glaude’s writing is clear and dynamic, not overwrought or dense. It’s not the prose of the book that is challenging, and if anything, the challenge and my own struggles with the book are necessary and contribute to a kind of growth and understanding. One of Glaude’s premises is that 250th celebration of America has been taken over, and with executive orders demanding a fictionalized history that fails to acknowledge the role of racism in the country’s founding, Glaude questions what kind of history and celebration will take place this year. It’s his call to interrogate the past, to reckon with the injustices of slavery that continue to be pushed aside or swept under the rug that plague America, creating a kind of storybook nation that only exists for certain groups of people. To quote spoken word pioneer Gil Scott Heron, this hagiography of history “ain’t no new thing”; it’s been happening since America’s first celebration in 1826, when African Americans couldn’t vote or even petition their representatives, for those who were not enslaved. Glaude examines how America celebrated these varying anniversaries, and how often African Americans and their contributions to the country were often excluded from these celebrations.
Glaude examines the history of these celebrations in Philadelphia, which I found fascinating since I’ve lived in the Philadelphia region my whole life and did not know about some of the events and instances he discussed in the book. Furthermore, it’s important to note that much of Glaude’s analysis examines Frederick Douglass’s seminal speech in 1852 “What to the Slave is the Fourth of July?” to further interrogate how history and celebrations of the ideals of America ring hallow. Douglass is an important figure to me. I graduated from the school where Douglass gave his last speech, and when I returned there a few years ago, I was excited to see a statue on campus memorializing not only his speech, but his contributions to society and Pennsylvania in particular. Glaude’s chapters not only present Douglass’s most famous speech as a reminder of how exclusionary the fourth can be, but also as a way to encourage readers to further interrogate history and the symbolism and meanings of what we sometimes take for granted as a day off to spend with friends and family at a barbecue or down the shore. Both Douglass and Glaude remind readers of how the “more perfect union” has failed to live up to its lofty standards set forth in the Declaration of Independence, where its initial lines clearly state that all men are created equal, endowed by their Creator with certain unalienable rights, including Life, Liberty and the pursuit of Happiness. Glaude also presents a story about how Douglass was denied a seat at the centennial dais in Memorial Hall during the centennial celebration in Philadelphia. Apparently police did not believe that a Black man would have anything to contribute to the celebration. Although he was later allowed to enter the exposition, he was never allowed to speak at the centennial celebration. Glaude presents this story to explore how it is emblematic of how African Americans are often silenced or pushed to the side during these celebrations of America, U.S.A. He later notes instances when Dr. King petitioned Kennedy for more recognition of the contributions of Black Americans, but he and A. Philip Randolph only received an invitation to dinner.
It was also fascinating to learn more about the 1926 celebration in Philadelphia. I’ve visited Memorial Hall, and spent time in the Please Touch Museum’s exhibit about the centennial celebration, but I wasn’t really aware of the 1926 celebrations, probably because, according to Glaude, these were plagued by lower interest and attendance and more funding problems, often related to graft and corruption. Nevertheless, as Glaude documents, it provided an opportunity for A. Philip Randolph to speak, which Glaude notes is an interesting choice since Randolph was the President of the Sleeping Car Porters, who helped to organize key Civil and Labor Rights events. The chapters between these “celebrations” focus on interludes, demonstrating key events that continued to represent the conflict between inclusion and exclusion of African Americans in the portrayal of the history of America. It’s fascinating and important to think about the different ways in which American continued to promote its ideals as it grew to be a global power, yet failed domestically to live up to its standards of liberty and justice for some, but not all. There’s much to unpack here, and I learned much from reading these chapters. However, I think that the book also made me feel so many complicated emotions, and that is even more a reflection of how important and necessary this book is today, especially as we approach a “celebration” that feels so dour and funereal. The last few chapters that focus on the last 50 years are fascinating to read, and I could not put the book down. Part of it is that these are the years which I’ve lived through and learned about through experience. It’s fascinating to learn the different battles and conflicts that have emerged and shaped the ways in which history and our own understandings of the country have been shaped and evolved over time. For me, it was important to know the myths and fairytales we tell about the founding of the country are continuing to erode, and that there are many who are interested in continuing to learn more about and reshape the truth we present to students and others. Yet, it’s also disheartening to know that there are many others who wish to grasp onto the myths and fairytales that we learned as children, and that when confronted with the facts of history, continue to pervert the truth and perpetuate the lies, choosing comfort and complacency over the struggles and challenges of learning and change. Glaude’s book is an important book for many people, but I think that this book is especially important for educators and others working with young people. It’s not only important to learn about the complicated feelings about this nation’s history and why “celebrating” it comes with its own complications and contradictions, but it’s also necessary to learn the kind of propaganda war that is being waged by those with positions of authority and voice in our government and media. It’s important and necessary to recognize the kind of whitewashing they intend in bad faith and disinformation they continue to spew about the diversity in America. Glaude frames this battle as one of consensus versus conflict, where over the past century, America has moved to an idea of consensus about the role of African Americans, and this consensus often neglects the more radical or revolutionary voices, who more often than not, reflect the kind of revolutionary spirit that won freedom from England. Again, it’s part of the complex and complicated nature of our country. However, as Glaude notes, Trump has moved from an idea of consensus that presidents from Reagan to Obama exerted about African American history, to one of imposition and erasure. In the past year, the Trump administration has authored executive orders that sought to erase Black, Indigenous, and other non-white voices and contributions from museums, parks, military libraries, websites, and classrooms. Not only is it a way to shape the history that students learn, but, as Glaude notes, it’s a way to indicate who deserves freedom and citizenship in society. Although Glaude ends the book with the annoyingly whiny words of VP Vance, he also ignites a call for resistance and change, to not only reclaim history, but also to continue to push against the untruths and the unserious and unsettling presentation of the storybook version of America, U.S.A.
There’s more that I need to unpack and examine from this book as it really made me experience a lot of different emotions. There’s much to learn from the book, but I wanted to mention Glaude’s references to DuBois throughout the book as well. Glaude not only includes music to begin each chapter, like DuBois did in Souls of Black Folk, but he also shares DuBois’s acknowledgement that the problem of the 20th century and beyond. DuBois declared that the color-line was the problem of the 20th century, and Glaude acknowledges that this continues to be a problem in the 21st century. It’s also important to call attention to Glaude’s references to DuBois, and that DuBois didn’t frame this as a problem of White people or Black people, but rather the division based on skin color and the oppression that results from this division. However, Glaude notes how DuBois’s color-line problem has evolved to the “desperate avoidance of self-awareness- its refusal to know itself fully, and the deadly consequences for people and the world that follow from that refusal. Ours is a time of shattered mirrors.” This line, and the shattered mirror reference from Baldwin at the end of the book, really resonated with me, and I felt like this demonstrated not only Glaude’s scholarship and references, but also his astute analysis at the ways in which the avoidance of race, injustice, and inequality continue to haunt us, leaving our homes with shattered mirrors that fail to reflect who we really are. Highly recommended and important book!

[Paul Tenorio · Rating 4 out of 5]

The 250th anniversary of the American experiment passed with a sense of disappointment rather than celebration. This book examines how the nation marked its 100th, 150th, 200th, and now 250th anniversaries—moments framed as tributes to “freedom,” even as the country continued to sustain deep inequalities between the white majority and people of color.
Within my own family, there is a clear understanding that the United States is still grappling with its past. In 2026, that struggle feels especially urgent, as the country faces a right-wing presidency that is actively dismantling protections for women, people of color, and the LGBTQ community. The current president, widely criticized for a record of dishonesty and alleged criminal behavior, has used a sweeping number of executive orders to rapidly reshape federal policy and institutions.
What is perhaps most troubling is the continued support he receives from roughly 30 percent of the population, including many Christians who embrace a version of history described in this book—one that emphasizes national triumphs while minimizing or ignoring the realities of injustice and the ongoing need for accountability and repair.

Introduction: Bitterness at the Bottom of the Cup
The introduction of America, U.S.A. appears to frame the book as an argument that U.S. anniversaries are not neutral celebrations but moments when the country’s unresolved racial contradictions come into view. Review and interview material says Glaude begins from the idea that America has a “divided soul,” imagining itself both as a beacon of freedom and as a white republic.
He also seems to use the opening to connect the 250th anniversary to earlier milestones, especially the Bicentennial and other commemorations, to show a recurring pattern: official celebrations often smooth over slavery, exclusion, and racial violence rather than confront them. In that sense, the introduction is less a neutral scene-setting and more a thesis statement about memory, myth, and national self-deception.

Chapter One: Freedom Is the White Man’s Gift
Chapter 1 sets up Glaude’s central argument: America’s anniversaries are moments when the country tells itself a flattering story, even as racial injustice remains unresolved. It uses history not as a neutral timeline, but as evidence that national celebrations often conceal contradiction rather than confront it.
The chapter opens by anchoring the book in the 250th-anniversary moment and then reaching back to earlier milestone years to show a repeating pattern of selective memory.

Chapter Two: What Is the Fourth of July to Us?
Chapter 2 centers on Frederick Douglass’s famous question, “What to the Slave is the Fourth of July?” and uses that lens to show how the holiday exposes the gap between American ideals and Black reality. In other words, the chapter likely asks what Independence Day means when the nation’s founding promise of liberty was not extended to everyone.
The core idea is that the Fourth of July is both celebration and indictment. It celebrates independence from Britain, but Douglass’s framework insists that slavery makes that celebration morally incomplete, because freedom for some rested on unfreedom for others. Glaude appears to use that contradiction to show that national pride often depends on ignoring the people excluded from the story.
The chapter develops a tension between patriotic ritual and historical truth. It asks readers to see the holiday not just as a birthday party for the nation, but as a yearly test of whether America can face its own unfinished business.

Chapter Three: 1876: Centennial
Chapter 3 continues Glaude’s larger argument by showing how the nation’s founding story was built alongside slavery, Native dispossession, and imperial expansion. In a book about anniversaries, that chapter probably matters because it pushes back against the idea that America began as a clean break toward liberty.
The strongest evidence from the available descriptions is that Glaude connects recurring national celebrations to the deeper structure of American power: who is counted as part of the nation, and who is left outside it. Chapter 3 is a part of the book’s pattern of showing how freedom and exclusion were built together from the start.
The chapter argues that America’s “birth” was already morally compromised, so later anniversaries inherit that contradiction rather than solve it which makes the chapter feel less like a standalone lesson and more like another piece of the book’s indictment of national mythology.

Interlude: The Plague Years
“Interlude: The Plague Years” is a pause in the book’s main chronological sweep that uses the plague as a metaphor for social crisis, contagion, and the ways a society responds when its normal order breaks down. In the context of a book about race and American anniversaries, that kind of interlude shifts the focus from celebration to disorder, showing how fear, exclusion, and blame spread alongside illness or crisis.
The section seems to suggest that public emergencies reveal character: who gets protected, who gets abandoned, and whose suffering gets normalized. It also serves as a bridge between chapters, slowing the narrative so the reader can reflect on how national myths persist even in moments of collective vulnerability.

Chapter Four: 1926: Sesquicentennial
Chapter 4, “the sesquicentennial 1926,” is about the 150th anniversary of American independence and the Philadelphia Sesquicentennial Exposition, which was meant to celebrate the nation in 1926. In Glaude’s larger argument, that celebration matters because it shows how America tries to narrate itself as triumphant and unified even when racial exclusion and historical contradiction remain unresolved.
The chapter likely uses 1926 to show the tension between patriotism and denial. The exposition tried to stage a grand patriotic memory of 1776, but accounts of the fair emphasize that it was also shaped by modern anxieties, commercialism, and efforts to control what kind of past Americans would remember. That makes the sesquicentennial less a simple birthday party and more a curated performance of national innocence.
Chapter also highlights how different groups contested that performance. White organizers pushed a selective vision of history, while Black, immigrant, and other marginalized communities used exhibits and pageants to insist that they belonged in the national story too. So the chapter shos that anniversaries are not just about remembrance; they are battlegrounds over whose history counts.
Chapter 4 argues that 1926 was another moment when America celebrated itself while trying to smooth over the people and realities that complicated the celebration which fits the book’s broader theme: anniversaries reveal what the nation wants to hide as much as what it wants to honor.

Interlude: The American Century
“Interlude: The American Century” refers to the 20th-century idea that the United States became the dominant global power and tried to define the world’s political and cultural order. The phrase itself is strongly associated with Henry Luce’s 1941 call for an “American Century,” which argued that the U.S. should accept responsibility for shaping the postwar world.
In Glaude’s book, that interlude serves as a pause to examine how national confidence and global power can hide domestic injustice. The “American Century” was a story of triumph abroad, but it also depended on a carefully managed national image at home, which fits the book’s larger theme of myth versus reality. So the interlude is asking whether a nation can claim moral leadership in the world while failing to reckon honestly with race and democracy inside its own borders.
Put simply, the section uses the rise of U.S. power to deepen the book’s argument: celebrations of America’s greatness often leave out the people and contradictions that made that greatness uneven and contested.

Chapter Five: 1976: Bicentennial
Chapter 5, on the 1976 Bicentennial, argues that America’s 200th birthday was both a patriotic spectacle and a crisis of national confidence. The holiday celebrated unity, but it came during the aftermath of Vietnam, Watergate, inflation, and deep distrust in government, so the mood was far more conflicted than the pageantry suggested.
In Glaude’s framework, the Bicentennial matters because it shows how anniversaries can become tools for restoring national myth instead of confronting national damage. The public celebrations—parades, tall ships, fireworks, reenactments, and official ceremonies—projected continuity and innocence, but many critics and Black organizers pointed out that slavery and racial inequality were still unresolved facts of American life. That tension fits the book’s larger theme: the nation keeps marking freedom while avoiding a full reckoning with who was excluded from it.
The chapter also emphasizes contestation. Some groups saw the Bicentennial as an opportunity to demand a different America, not just celebrate the existing one, which is why the anniversary became a battleground over memory and meaning. So Chapter 5 is about the split between official patriotism and public doubt: a moment when the United States tried to celebrate itself while many Americans were asking whether the country had actually lived up to its founding ideals.

Interlude: The After Times
“Interlude: The After Times” means a brief section set between major historical moments, using “after times” to suggest the period that comes after a rupture or ending. In a book like America, U.S.A., that would usually mean the era after a national crisis or anniversary, when the celebratory story has faded and the consequences are still unfolding.
The phrase can also point to a moral or historical aftermath: what happens after the spectacle, after the speeches, after the official memory is over. The interlude asks what remains once the country has finished congratulating itself—who is still waiting for justice, and what truths are still unresolved.
'The After Times' in the narrative looks at the world once the old moment is over and the next one has not yet fully arrived. That makes it a transition section, but also a reflective one.

Chapter Six: 2026: Semiquincentennial
Chapter 6, about the semiquincentennial: the 250th anniversary of American independence. In the book’s larger structure, that makes it the present-day climax of the anniversary cycle, where all the earlier commemorations come together under one question: what does the nation choose to celebrate, and what does it keep avoiding.
The chapter uses 2026 to show that the same old conflict is still alive. Official semiquincentennial planning emphasizes patriotic spectacle—parades, tall ships, fireworks, commemorative coins, and nationwide events—while critics and historians continue to press the harder issue of whether the country can tell the truth about slavery, exclusion, and inequality at the same time. Chapter fits Glaude’s pattern throughout the book: anniversaries are moments when myth and memory compete for control of the national story.
Chapter 6 reads 2026 not as a clean finish line but as a test. The semiquincentennial becomes a final, contemporary example of the book’s argument that America keeps reaching for unity through celebration even when the deeper work of reckoning is unfinished and asks whether 250 years has made the country wiser—or just better at staging itself.

Conclusion: Love and Country
The final chapter, “Love and Country,” shifts from critique to moral possibility. After tracing how anniversaries repeatedly mask racial contradiction, Glaude asks what it would mean to love the country honestly rather than mythically.
The title suggests that patriotism is not simple celebration but a demanding relationship with truth. In that sense, “love” does not mean agreeing with the nation’s self-image; it means caring enough to tell the truth about slavery, exclusion, and the damage those histories continue to do. The chapter frames a mature patriotism as something tied to accountability, not denial.
The ending returns to the book’s central tension: can Americans belong to the nation without surrendering moral judgment? Glaude’s answer appears to be that real love of country requires confronting the country’s failures, because only honest memory makes a better future imaginable .

[booksbymonth · Rating 2 out of 5]

I won this as an ARC so read it. This is not my normal reading material. I won't say I agreed with a lot of it. I also think it was very politically motivated. Everyone is allowed their own opinions though. Do I believe all that I read....no, but it was a different viewpoint.

[Trelani · Rating 4 out of 5]

I feared this would be, as Toni Morrison once called them, another one of those “screw whitey books.” There’s nothing inherently wrong with those books—Toni herself acknowledged their necessity—but they can sometimes feel written with the white gaze sitting heavily on their shoulders. As a Black woman, I often feel like I’m overhearing a conversation I can only occasionally nod along to. That’s not the case here.

Glaude manages to speak to everybody at once. Some books talk to Black folk. Some talk to white folk. This one talks to all of us. He isn’t merely telling readers what happened; he’s showing us. He layers the text with block quotes from figures like Du Bois, Douglass, and Baldwin, alongside lesser-known historical sketches like the story of Moses Gordon in 1797 to build his case.

The structure of the book is especially effective. By examining America’s major anniversaries from the Centennial in 1876, to the Sesquicentennial in 1926, to the Bicentennial in 1976, and now toward the upcoming Semiquincentennial, he forces readers to interrogate what we really mean when we say “progress.” How much has genuinely changed? How much oppression has simply changed faces? Are we a white republic or a beacon of freedom? Because we can’t be both. The book tracks those shifts across institutions, from the state to the church, revealing how deeply race shadows the nation’s self-celebrations.

One of the strongest realizations the book provoked in me was, as another reviewer pointed out, healing begins when we stop protecting the stories that are making us sick. Take the 1920s. Popular imagination remembers the Jazz Age. Eddie reminds us it was also the age of the Ku Klux Klan. During the Sesquicentennial International Exposition celebrating America’s 150th anniversary, the Klan was initially approved to hold its annual convention there. A celebration of the American flag unfolding alongside cross burnings. That contradiction may be the clearest summary of this entire book. And that’s only one example. I learned about multiple atrocities against Black Americans tied to July 4th celebrations throughout history, moments rarely included in the patriotic mythology many of us inherited.

Yet, despite how piercing the book is, it never feels academically cold or emotionally detached. As Eddie recently said in conversation with Imani Perry, this book gives us “the resources to speak back to the lies that these people are going to tell on July 4th.”

My chief disappointment was the absence of Black women’s voices. In a book grappling with lynching, racial terror, and the nation’s mythology, I expected at least some engagement with figures like Ida B. Wells. The absence felt sharp.

Still, this is an important and timely work…one that asks America not simply to celebrate itself, but to finally tell the truth about itself.

[Paula W · Rating 4 out of 5]

Thanks to Crown and Edelweiss for the digital review copy of America, U. S. A. Their generosity did not influence my review in any way.

Born in a small town near me, this author grew up to become a Princeton professor and a familiar face on the 24 hr news cycle. I followed his career and enjoyed his talking points until he did the most insane thing imaginable during the 2016 presidential election. Despite Bernie Sanders ceding the democratic nomination to Hilary Clinton and vowing to campaign for her, this Bernie Bro publicly stated he would not vote for her because she wasn’t enough of a Democrat, and called for others to just leave that section of their ballots blank in protest. His public statement played a huge part in others refusing to vote for Clinton or even show up to the polls at all, resulting in Trump’s unexpected narrow victory. Glaude lost all credibility in my eyes as a pundit and as a progressive in 2016. I certainly no longer think of him as an intellectual, and his type of loud stupidity has cost the nation a lot. I will, however, listen to him on the topic of this book. He is, after all, a black man experiencing racism in a country founded on the backs of black people. This is something he knows something about.

The book looks at the US anniversary celebrations and the racial tensions occurring at the time. He looks at those tensions being the result of a disingenuous population unable to look plainly at the idea that our nation cannot be called the land of the free when some of us never have been. Anniversary celebrations at a venue inevitably use words like “freedom” when black men have the highest rate of imprisonment, or the word “patriotism” when states are denying voting rights, or “unity” while citizens are being beaten in the parking lots. The author covers each period of time — the post-Civil War era, the years of the “negro problem”, the rise of the KKK, the Civil Rights era, the openly anti-black policies of the Reagan and Bushes-plural administrations, the Clinton and Obama eras of black people being unwilling to be quiet any longer, and the era of the rise of openly white supremacists. And that’s where we are today in 2026, the year of our 250th anniversary. Things have changed but not gotten any better because of our inability to look frankly at our self-deception when it comes to the “American dream” and being “the greatest country in the world”. Things never will change until white America lets go of its ego fragility and becomes willing to share freedom instead of insisting on being the ones to determine who gets it. 3.5 stars

[Richard Propes · Rating 5 out of 5]

There are a couple of things worth noting as I begin my reflection on Eddie S. Glaude Jr.'s "America, U.S.A.: How Race Shadows the Nation's Anniversaries."

First off, if you're seeking a comfortable read look elsewhere. A celebrated public intellectual and the bestselling author of "Begin Again," Glaude is unrelentingly truthful in his storytelling and in his approach to looking at American history and our country's refusal to face its true nature. I wouldn't quite say "no holds barred," but "America, U.S.A." is for the reader willing to be educated, challenged, and even confronted.

Basing his analysis within national anniversaries is both profound and jarring. Glaude pinpoints how national anniversaries fuel mythologies disguising truths and perpetuate false stories and national lies.

As an adult with disabilities, I often challenge people to not approach my existence through a lens of what the disability community calls "inspiration porn." If I inspire you, fine, tell me how I inspire you and what I inspire you to do.

In a similar vein, Glaude convicted me as someone who both related to much of his writing and also couldn't relate to much of his writing. At times, Glaude writes with such a gut-punch that I'd mumble to myself "What is mine to do?" when it comes to breaking the cycle and pointing my own village toward a more honest relationship with this country that is complex yet also one I dearly love.

Glaude draws lessons from the likes of Frederick Douglass, W.E.B. DuBois, and Martin Luther King, Jr. among many others. Along our journey through this nation's 250 years, Glaude paints a powerfully researched and emotionally resonant portrait of the nation's cultural and political influences impacting the stories we tell ourselves about the stories this nation has lived.

In the end, it is both simple yet seemingly impossible. We must reckon with our past if we have a hope of striving for a better future.

"America, U.S.A." isn't an entertaining read. "America, U.S.A." isn't a comfortable read. "America, U.S.A." isn't a quick read or a warm and fuzzy read. "America, U.S.A." is, however, a necessary read and a vital read and a profoundly revealing read that lingers in your mind long after you've closed its pages and realized you can't shake Glaude's stories and how he brings them all to life.

[Andre(Read-A-Lot) · Rating 5 out of 5]

Truth telling at its very best. Mr. Eddie Glaude,Jr. just keeps getting better and clearer with each publication. It is a joy to experience. And so here he is taking America to task as the run up to the 250 year anniversary of America is rapidly approaching. He does this by revisiting and reviewing the other centennial celebrations since America’s founding. And he is unafraid to say the hard part out loud.

“But in America, those feelings and experiences have always been stained by the ugliness of what white people believe about color—that somehow, or in some inscrutable way, the color of one’s skin determines your value. You end up spending much of your life trying to prove to others and to yourself—not because you are obsessed with white people but because you want to live—that you are not a “ni***r”

He looks at the celebrations of 1876, 1926, 1976 and finally the coming July 4, 2026. And always the question is when will America deal with the truth of its’ past? When?

“If America was to be free, Black folk had to be free, which meant that white people would have to give up the idea that their race made them superior.” That idea is holding strong in 2026, and Eddie Glaude is not entirely optimistic that its demise is certain. In critiquing some of the possibilities to hasten that death, Glaude jabs at the raging popularity of the anti-racism movement, seeing it as empty sentimentality, “Sentimentality is intimately connected with the rage that often comes with its failure.”

He doesn’t offer a solution or a way out, other than truth and discarding the fairytale storybook version of America. Throughout the book he liberally allows other voices to opine and sociologist Robert Bellah has a most apt prescription for America’s malaise. “He put it this way: “If we are to free ourselves for the future we must remember what we would rather forget.” Perhaps, one of Mr. Glaude’s students has said it best, ““What remains,” she wrote, “is not hope, but something just as lasting: the insistence on truth, carried by love and lit by rage.” The struggle continues!! A great big thanks to NetGalley and Crown books for an advanced DRC. Book will drop May 26, 2026!!

[Liam Sullivan · Rating 4 out of 5]

The author explores this history of the United States by focusing on how the nation celebrates its anniversaries.  The picture emerges is a consistent effort to define the United States as a nation of, by, and for white people, erasing Black people from the narrative. 

Glaude visits the centennial of 1876, held a decade after the war to end slavery when white people North and South had grown "fatigued" with Reconstruction.  Frederick Douglass was barred from taking his spot on the grandstand until a white man vouched for him. The compromise that ended Reconstruction and enabled Jim Crow segregation would be sealed the following year. 

In 1926, the revived Ku Klux Klan were at the height of their political influence, including at the Sesqui-Centennial Exposition in Philadelphia.  Recent quota-based immigration restrictions emphasized the desire to keep the USA for whites only.  And in 1976, the Bicentennial celebrations were hijacked to promote American unity after the the turmoil of the Civil Rights movement, anti-war protests, and the Watergate scandal troubled the idea of a national consensus.  At this time, Black people were mentioned in the historical narrative, but only in that their freedom from slavery and segregation came through the promise of the Declaration of Independence, not their own efforts.

Which brings us to today.  Glaude published this book before the America 250 debacle in Washington, but recently enough to have analyzed the plans for the event.  A recurring theme throughout this book is the idea of "Storybook America," a narrative of freedom derived from the Founders, continuous progress, and exceptionalism that ignores any of the inconvenient truths of inequality, violence, and slavery.  With the Trump regime attempting to enforce a celebratory historical account of the United States in National Parks, museums, and schools we're facing the danger of "Storybook America" becoming our only curriculum.  Glaude draws on the inspiration of and builds on the work of writers such as W.E.B. Du Bois and James Baldwin, and his work is a fitting addition to the body of cultural critique of race in America.

[Steffany .O (coffee over apples) · Rating 5 out of 5]

❗️I don't know what I need to do to make every american read this but I will never look at any national holiday the same ever again. This is likely going to be my favorite non fiction book of 2026. Thank you so much to the publisher for sending me an advanced copy in exchange for an honest review.

What I thought the book On Tyranny by Timothy Snyder fell short on, Eddie Glaude Jr did here with no hesitation. To me it is obvious that holidays are politically assigned public recognition of white values (this is why we are seeing an attack on juneteenth) but I never had the language to explain why. This book gave me to language to clap back.

Glaude walks us through the various July 4th (American independence day) mile stones that happened over the past 250 years as this year of publication marks the 250th anniversary that has been plagued by right wing propaganda that aims at bringing white supremacy together to showcase white power and reinstall whiteness as the "common sense" imagery of American greatness while erasing black history (last I heard this major celebration is being planned in Idaho among other conservative states? Dunno of that changed but Idaho has moved to eliminate black history within education and juneteenth celebrations) .

During each of these anniversaries, we are given a clear image as to the state of black rights during celebrations. In the end he holds no punches calling out the Trump administration for its direct attack on black communities amongst other proponents of liberal ideology. He shows us how current politicians echo the sentiments of history showing us that white rage has always been under the surface.

PLEASE I BEG OF YOU, READ THIS! 👏🏼

[Skyhorse Jones · Rating 5 out of 5]

Eddie Glaude is angry! And after reading this book and fact-checking some of the history, I don't blame him. He is expected to be so grateful to this country for freedom... that white people have graciously given him. Because freedom, it seems, is something white folks have exclusive access to. We can share it and we can take it away. And for most of the history of this country, we've done the latter. And we're still doing it today.
Mr Glaude says (on page 220-221):
"The arrogance of white men grates on the nerves. [J D] Vance expects gratitude, because he believes that freedom is the white man's gift to give. How could someone like me, for example, born on the coast of Mississippi, who attended Morehouse College and received his PhD from Princeton, and who lives a comfortable life refuse to show gratitude to "the settlers who carved a civilization out of the wilderness"—to the country that "made my life possible"?
"I could remind him of the wounded souls separated from their lands who felled the trees and cleared the swamps here; of those who saw their children sold off to the highest bidders, whose backs bore the sting of the lash of the whip, who took their last breaths without having known freedom... I could tell stories of those who dangled from white oak and poplar trees because they dared to claim freedom as their own; or of my dad and mom, who couldn't eat at the local drive-in because they didn't serve niggers; or the moments when somebody, somewhere in some city wailed because they had to bury their child who was killed by the police. I could go on and on. But Vance and Trump say such talk "inappropriately disparages Americans past and living." Gratitude is demanded, still— especially as the "true Americans" celebrate 250 years of America, U.S.A. They just want us to shut up, smile, be grateful, and disappear."
This book rousted me from my privileged complacency and showed me this country from the viewpoint of someone who comes from a whole other side of life and sees things I hadn't noticed.

[Anthony Cleveland · Rating 3 out of 5]

Difficult to read at times but certainly worth the journey. I’m not really sure what to write about Glaude’s work… I can understand the rage he expresses about the history of racism in America. There is no doubt in my mind at least that Glaude has every right to feel that anger in particular given the current state of politics in America. And the apparent ignorance of our collective past is truly disappointing to me as an educator… I know the truth of the statement those “who don’t
remember their history are doomed to repeat it.” I did find the authors conclusion and his emphasis on love is critical for the future of America was spot on . What I do not expect is perfection in our leadership. As a follower of Jesus of Nazareth I wait on his return when every knee will bow and every tongue will confess he is the Messiah . Only then will we as Americans finally know peace and harmony in our country. But until then, I firmly believe and give thanks to the Almighty for allowing me to be born in this great experiment. Yes we have made mistakes yes we have sinned as a people and as a nation… but even with its messy process what we have done here in this land is the best we as a species have ever done. So … until He returns … let us realize that God is watching and waiting for us to continue the evolutionary process in self government … to look forward and not forgetting the past but to look .., to pray and … to keep the faith. Amen come Lord Jesus…

[Tammy Will · Rating 5 out of 5]

Seeing how Black Americans perceive July 4th and celebrate July 5th will put a different perspective on what you believe to be the founding of our nation.

It reminds me of the words of Atticus Finch when he says,
“You never really understand a person until you consider things from his point of view... until you climb into his skin and walk around in it."

Professor Glaude presents the celebrations of the 100th, 150th, 200th, and 250th anniversaries of the founding of America with the thoughts of noted Black Americans during each era.

The common thread in each celebration is the dismissal, or invisibility of, Black American citizens. This is such a sad testament to the documents that we hold to such high esteem. Those documents that we, as Americans, have never lived up to.

He refers to the whitewashed American history as a “storybook version” repeatedly. I don’t disagree.

I struggled with the chapter on the 250th celebration of our nation because it was about Donald trump. I don’t want to read about him anywhere. But, Professor Glaude followed up that chapter with one on love and country. He admits in the author’s note how much he struggled writing about the current office holder. That was redeeming for me.

[Edward · Rating 4 out of 5]

Just in time for the Semiquincentennial, America, U.S.A. by Eddie S. Glaude Jr. examines how national celebrations of our country's founding often celebrate America's greatness while overlooking the contradictions at the heart of its history, particularly regarding race.

One passage especially resonated with me:

"What matters here, what has always mattered in America, U.S.A., is that the country simultaneously remains a beacon of freedom and a white nation. But since the beginning, the presence of Black people (and Native peoples) has unmasked the lies that hide the doubleness. That deceit became the source of our national suffering, because white Americans had to lie to themselves and to the world about their commitment to liberty and equality for all."

Glaude shows how America has often made progress and then taken painful steps backward. He argues that the country is still struggling to live up to its founding ideals, and the book encourages readers to think about the gap between America’s ideals and its history.

.

[Kim Hollstein · Rating 5 out of 5]

Note to self not a Review. This man is one of my favorite people. I grew to admire him while watching him on MS NOW. His writing isn’t stellar, but since he pours his soul into it, it’s really really good. This book felt at times like I was reading book reviews, but after reading the author’s note, I saw that his intent was to weave parts of books into the narrative so now it makes sense. I love how honest he is regarding his hopelessness that Black folk will ever get equality. And that refers to this country as a white nation because of it. I also appreciated his honesty about his despair, fury, and love for this country. His demonstration that all three could live simultaneously in such an ethical and erudite man was also impressive. This book inspired me to read all of Baldwin, W. E. B. Du Bois, Langston, Hughes and Imani Perry. Just glancing at his selected bibliography I also came up with about 20 other books. I’d love to read. Oh, to be able to be a fast reader, what a gift that would be.

[Em · Rating 5 out of 5]

America, U.S.A. by Eddie S. Glaude Jr. is one of the most emotionally honest books I’ve read about this country in a long time. Glaude challenges the mythology of American innocence and asks readers to confront the violence, racism, and contradictions embedded in the nation’s foundation especially during moments when patriotism encourages collective

I really enjoyed how literary and reflective this book feels. Through voices like T. S. Eliot, W. E. B. Du Bois, and Martin Luther King Jr., Glaude reminds us that truth-telling is not cynicism but a necessary act of care. As a therapist, I kept thinking about how healing begins when we stop protecting the stories that are making us sick. This is a challenging, urgent, and deeply humane read. I love the embedded poetry and music scores included in the text, too!

[Kami · Rating 5 out of 5]

Really great. Glaude walks through the start of the nation and then marks each 50 years by explaining the landscape of America at that time and the impact socially and politically to African Americans and other minorities in the country, all the way to today's 250th Anniversary. Heavy on quotes and perspectives from Fredrick Douglas and James Baldwin which I loved. I have had an almost dread as we approach the fourth of July this year and Glaude really helped frame and add context to my overall sentiment. History is so important. Glaude articulates the history of America we all need to know and just maybe learn from.

[Lynn · Rating 3 out of 5]

This book analyses the state of race relations in America at the marker dates of July 4 1876, 1926, 197 6and 2026. Needless to say, it is all dismal. Part of me understands where the author is coming from. Our racial history is certainly fraught and in the Age of Trump it is terrible (though perhaps not as bad as the lynchi9ngs of 1876 and 1926. And I understand the author's passion. Trump's anti-EI push basically says a man like him should not be a professor at Princeton. Still, it is hard to find any incidents in the book of White people doing anything right and Black peo0le doing anything wrong. Divioding us into victims and victimizers is probably painting with too broad a brush.

[lovelifeandbooks · Rating 4 out of 5]

Eddie S. Glaude Jr. does not present new ideas or arguments in this novel. Because they are not needed, he makes it a point to remind us that we have the information and we must process (not just acknowledge) the past. When we make the active choice to “misremember” for the sake of being palatable to a certain demographics, we make the choice to remain stagnant and hurt Black folk. It is a bit disorienting to see how much money and creativity is wasted just to exclude the truth, and we do it at every significant marker.

[Mark · Rating 5 out of 5]

Powerful, compelling book that examins United States history through the centennial celebrations. Glaude lays bare the challenges we faced in the founding of the united States and the events surrounding the various centennials including 1876, 1926, 1976, 2026. Glaude does not mince words in presenting his argument that when we gloss over race, slavery, we have unfinished business. Rather than celebrate a finished product, we should explore how best to continue to evolve and face the reality of our history.

[Lucretia · Rating 5 out of 5]

If only all Americans could read Glaude's book, America, U.S.A.! The next step would be to peacefully meet and discuss how we can move forward bravely to make our country a true democracy. Glaude's writing is brilliant as he focuses on the July 4 anniversaries since 1876 and the failure to confront the tragedy of slavery, the repeated efforts to disenfranchise black citizens in the last 150 years and the huge challenges that we face in 2026. There is great sadness in this book, but also a galvanizing message to claim and promote the truth of our history. Highly recommended.

[Monica · Rating 4 out of 5]

America continually throughout history celebrates its anniversaries and strides but the fact remains that as a society we have not moved forward to recognize all of America's citizens. Racism is still an issue much as it was in 1876. Eddie S. Glaude Jr. tells us that we need to embrace our fellow humans and love them. The tone is not preachy nor academic, just the facts. This book is for everyone to read and appreciate the truth of what he is saying.

@crownpublishing
@esgaude

[Colleen · Rating 4 out of 5]

A moving contemplation of the lie that is “Independence Day” for Black Americans. I find myself, with all my privilege, struggling with the holiday these days, and I cannot fathom how half the population must feel under the yoke of systemic oppression that predates the founding and continues all these centuries later. This is why sitting with experiences outside your own is so vitally important…because we’ve failed to do that, we find ourselves unable to move forward.