Freedom Ain't Soft

Freedom Ain’t Soft

People talk about freedom like it’s a silk scarf floating in the breeze. Light. Easy. Added beauty to an otherwise beautiful day. The problem is, there is no weight in a silk scarf. It can’ stop the rain or hold the cold out. And the concept of freedom is starting to become just as impotent at times.

Real freedom has calluses. It has a backbone. It asks you hard questions and it waits while you squirm for honest answers. It doesn’t hand you a ribbon for participation. It hands you a shovel and says, start digging.

Now let me play devil’s advocate for a minute.

If we’re being honest, a whole lot of people who cry the loudest about “my freedom” aren’t talking about liberty at all. They’re talking about license. The freedom to do whatever they want, whenever they want, without cost, correction, or consequence. Their motto of “Free to Be Me”, takes no others into consideration. And if that interferes with my freedom, then the problem is me, not them.

Don’t tell me no.
Don’t expect anything from me.
Don’t hold me accountable.
Don’t make me uncomfortable.

That isn’t freedom. That’s a toddler in a grown body lying in the grocery store aisle kicking their heels.

And this is where people confuse freedom with anarchy.

Anarchy is no order, no structure, no shared agreement on right and wrong. Everybody a law unto themselves. Sounds bold on a poster. In real life, it means the strongest, loudest, or most ruthless run the show. The weak get trampled. The quiet get erased. The vulnerable get eaten alive. That isn’t liberation. That’s survival of the cruel.

Freedom needs structure. It needs agreed-upon rules. It needs accountability. Not to cage people, but to keep the strong from preying on the weak and the foolish from burning the house down. A fence isn’t always a prison. Sometimes it’s the only thing keeping the wolves out. And we have this in actuality – it’s called the Constitution. And for when people can’t agree on what the Constitution says, then we have laws that interpret those ideas, humane concepts, better known as inalienable right and when respected – freedom.

Tear down every fence in the name of freedom and don’t act surprised when your garden gets wrecked and your peace gets stolen. Order is not the enemy of liberty. It’s the frame that holds it upright.

Most folks don’t actually want freedom. They want exemption. Exemption from responsibility. Exemption from effort. Exemption from consequences. Bless their hearts, they want a universe where they get to swing the bat but never strike out, eat the cake but never gain the weight, speak their mind but never lose a relationship.

That world doesn’t exist.

There’s external freedom. The right to speak, move, build, walk away. That matters. That’s worth defending. But if that’s all you’ve got, you’re still standing in the doorway of the house, not living in it.

Internal freedom is where the real work starts. Not being ruled by your temper. Not being steered by fear. Not begging for approval like a dog waiting for table scraps. A person who can’t govern themselves is not free. They’re just unmanaged.

Then there’s moral freedom. The rare kind. Choosing what’s right when it costs you. When no one’s clapping. When it would be easier to lie, dodge, fold, or blame. That’s the freedom of a grown soul. And it’s scarce. It’s simply doing what’s right just because it’s right. And who decides that? Well it’s not you all beside yourself. Refer back to the Constitution, the laws and if you have trouble interpreting those, then you hire an attorney who trained for such a thing.

So here’s the truth that sticks in people’s throats.

Freedom and comfort don’t share a kitchen. Comfort says, sit down, stay quiet, don’t rock the boat. Freedom says, stand up, choose your road, and carry the weight. You don’t get both. Not for long.

Every choice is a trade. Every road charges a toll. You don’t get endless options. You get to pick your burden. That’s adulthood. That’s reality.

And consequences aren’t punishment. They’re physics. Moral gravity. Step off the roof, you fall. No use screaming that gravity is unfair.

I’ve lived long enough to know this.

Freedom isn’t doing whatever I please.
It’s knowing who I am.
Choosing my direction.
And shouldering the outcome without whining about the weight.

That kind of freedom doesn’t need a slogan.
Doesn’t need a protest sign.
Doesn’t need a crowd chanting its name.

It just stands there.

Steady.
Clear-eyed.
Unbought.
Unbowed.

Because in the end, real freedom isn’t something you claim — it’s something you prove by how you live.