Forty three years ago, in my home country of Spain, chaos was everywhere. Francisco Franco installed a dictatorship and everyone had a tape around their mouths. Life was miserable. A woman couldn’t feed her children because she didn’t have food. War took everything from my people. And Spain wasn’t free.

Right now, the Middle East struggles, suffering, crying for help. War is everywhere, and people can’t escape it. They can’t speak their minds and if they do, they might lose their lives. A man works in a market. He doesn’t have enough money to travel and move to another country. And the Middle East isn’t free.

Venezuela is a mess, there’s no money, and too much poverty. Citizens are furious with the government but they can’t say anything. A woman cries when she sees her husband kick her son to the street because they can’t afford him. And Venezuela isn’t free.

North Korea is in a dictatorship, where people can’t speak against their leaders or express their beliefs. The streets are quiet. Their country is like a prison.  A mom always tells her kids to be careful with what they say outside their house. The mom and children live in fear. And North Korea isn’t free.

I am a Spaniard, living as a foreign exchange student in America. Even though I am not in my country with my family, I feel like this is my home now. America is where I can speak and share my ideas. So here I am standing, while tears and liberty fill my face: In America we are free and I am free. This is freedom of speech to me.