Why My Family Skipped Celebrating July 4th this year to Honor July 5th National Bikini Day Instead

By Tom Clancy Jr. A Real American Patriot.

A Real American Patriot

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Everyone should celebrate July 5th, National Bikini Day.

Look, July 4th means something freedom, independence, commemorative Bud Light cans but lately, that “something” has taken a dark, confusing turn. My eldest daughter’s husband, Marco, got deported last week for what we think was either a parking ticket or growing cilantro too confidently. U.S. tariffs have wiped out half my friends’ jobs and most of our church’s side hustles, and to top it off, that one Kennedy tried to make Skittles illegal.

Skittles!

If that’s not a red flag wrapped in a sugarless dystopia, I don’t know what is.

For generations, my family has fought and died for this country, paid a lot of taxes, like ALOT and we celebrated the Fourth of July with all the traditional trappings: flag cakes that looked like an abstract crime scene, Uncle Ron’s annual near-death firework demonstration, and 104-degree backyard tension. We grilled meat to the point of charcoal-based carcinogenesis and listened to people pretend to understand the lyrics of “The Star-Spangled Banner.” America, apple pie, and absolute dehydration.

But that all changed last year when my youngest daughter, Madison, stared blankly at a sparkler and asked, “Father, why are we celebrating with fire if fireworks give Grandma PTSD and none of us really like hot dogs?”

A fair question. A powerful question. And just like that, it hit me: the Fourth of July is kind of… awful. Like, we all agree to sweat through denim shorts, wave at a flag like it owes us money, and feign joy while mosquitoes declare full-scale war on our exposed limbs. That’s not freedom that’s performance art with explosives.

So we made a radical decision. No July 4th this year, were not feeling the love from our government, right now. From now on, the Clancy household celebrates July 5th: National Bikini Day the true holiday of liberty, courage, and questionable tan lines.

Skipped Celebrating July 4th - Why Bikini Day? Why Not, You Coward.

Louis Réard. The father of the Modern bikini. 2nd greatest engineer in history.

Bikini Day commemorates the debut of the modern bikini in 1946 by French engineer Louis Réard, who boldly introduced two triangles and a prayer to polite society. It was scandalous, it was brave, and most importantly it’s not celebrated by people trying to out-burp each other over a cooler of gas station beer.

This is a holiday for real Americans and real western culture. The ones who believe in freedom of movement, SPF 50, and making poor decisions in inflatable flamingo floaties. While other families are suffering through pork-sweat and patriotism, we’re sipping pineapple margaritas and arguing about whether the neighbor’s Speedo counts as a hate crime.

July 5th is about empowerment. Bikinis don’t care if you’re 22 with abs or 72 with regrets. They’re the great equalizer two pieces of fabric that whisper, “Yeah, you’ve got back fat, but it’s your back fat.

Let it breathe, Brenda.”

Freedom from Obligations, Pants, and Firework-Induced Anxiety

Let’s be honest, no one actually enjoys July 4th. You either spend half the day sitting in traffic trying to get to a lake you hate, or you’re trapped in someone’s backyard while a Bluetooth speaker blasts Toby Keith remixes like it’s an act of psychological warfare. Your only escape is pretending to help with the grill, which is just standing near hot metal and coughing politely.

On Bikini Day, there’s no dress code. No pressure to recite the Preamble while holding a sparkler and a hot bratwurst. There’s just sun, skin, and the knowledge that somewhere, Thomas Jefferson is weeping tears of envy into his powdered wig because he never got to see the miracle of a tankini.. or maybe he did (slave owner, had lots of kids.)

You know what Bikini Day doesn’t have? Drunk uncles trying to light an M-80 with a cigarette. It doesn’t have toddlers crying because they ate a glow stick. And it certainly doesn’t have you pretending to be interested in your cousin Brad’s crypto portfolio between the salad and the salmonella.

Tradition, Reimagined: Bikini Day with the Clancy Family

This year, we celebrated our second annual Bikini Day and I have to say it was magical. Grandma wore a one-piece with flamingos and sipped a mai tai from a cup shaped like a dolphin. My wife made red, white, and blue popsicles, which, incidentally, melt slower when you’re not standing in 108-degree heat next to a propane tank with a death wish. The only fire in sight was the collective thirst trap my father-in-law became when he emerged in a 1980s banana hammock and Crocs.

We had freedom-themed float races, a poolside trivia contest (winner got a bottle of sunscreen and lifelong respect), and a bikini fashion show judged by our dog, Chauncey. Plus 50 neighbors and a church choir showed up, all sportin' kini's no one wanted to see. The criteria? Sass, confidence, and who could carry a beach ball with the most patriotic strut.

Even the kids were happier. No screaming. No sticky faces covered in bomb pop residue. Just sunburns in fun shapes and memories that didn’t involve someone vomiting off the porch.

The Future is Bright. And Probably SPF 70.

I know what you’re thinking: “You’re a traitor. You’ve forsaken America’s birthday for a swimsuit-based fiesta.” And to that I say, I didn’t forsake America. I saved her. I gave her a glow-up. I wrapped her in lycra and gave her a piña colada. And trust, America needs a piña colada right now.

If were not open and not free, then why did all our families and generations whether first or 20, sacrifice so much to be here?

This country doesn’t need more barbecue trauma and illegal fireworks. It needs joy. It needs unity. It needs a national day where it’s okay to embrace your inner I'd be naked if they didn't arrest me.. and not have to listen to your great uncle explain the Second Amendment while smothering a scorched kielbasa in mustard.

So this July 5th, do your part. Free yourself from oppressive fabrics. Reject the tyranny of warm potato salad. Step into the sun, the pool, or a mildly chlorinated kiddie splash pad and whisper to your friends and loved ones, “I choose bikini.”

God bless America, and God bless Bikini Day.

Skipped Celebrating July 4th.