"As a boy, I believed freedom for America meant freedom for me. There was a time I believed every word spoken"
About this Quote
There is a particular ache in the way Barry White frames belief as something you grow out of, like a suit that once fit perfectly. He starts with the smallest, most intimate unit of politics: a boy. Not a voter, not a citizen, not a demographic. A kid who takes America at its word. The line turns on that deceptively simple equation - freedom for America equals freedom for me - exposing how national mythology is sold as personal destiny. It is the civics-class promise, internalized so completely it feels like common sense.
Then the second sentence lands like a quiet betrayal: "There was a time I believed every word spoken". Not "every promise made", which would at least imply scrutiny. "Every word" suggests authority itself - teachers, leaders, preachers, broadcasters - and the cultural machinery that asks Black Americans in particular to perform faith in institutions that have rarely returned it. White doesn't need to name race or policy; the subtext does the work. This is the aftertaste of the Civil Rights era and its incomplete victories, the gap between the language of liberty and the lived reality of inequality.
Coming from a musician whose public persona was built on lush romance and confidence, the understatement is striking. It's not a rant; it's a confession. The power is in the tonal shift from patriotic innocence to adult skepticism, compressing a whole education in disillusionment into two plainspoken sentences.
Then the second sentence lands like a quiet betrayal: "There was a time I believed every word spoken". Not "every promise made", which would at least imply scrutiny. "Every word" suggests authority itself - teachers, leaders, preachers, broadcasters - and the cultural machinery that asks Black Americans in particular to perform faith in institutions that have rarely returned it. White doesn't need to name race or policy; the subtext does the work. This is the aftertaste of the Civil Rights era and its incomplete victories, the gap between the language of liberty and the lived reality of inequality.
Coming from a musician whose public persona was built on lush romance and confidence, the understatement is striking. It's not a rant; it's a confession. The power is in the tonal shift from patriotic innocence to adult skepticism, compressing a whole education in disillusionment into two plainspoken sentences.
Quote Details
| Topic | Freedom |
|---|---|
| Source | Help us find the source |
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