July 4 means fireworks. Are they a beloved Independence Day tradition or a dreaded one?

Fireworks literally cause me and tons of other spectators trauma. Please make them stop.

_{By Kelly Hartog}

“Light blue touchpaper and stand well clear.”

That was the terminology stamped on the wrappers of fireworks when I was a kid. My dad would yell out these words as we planted little squibs and sparklers in the backyard, back in the days when it was legal to purchase fireworks in England and Australia where I grew up.

We did stand well clear. Even then, the combination of a slightly acrid smell of smoke and the pop-pop-pop of the fireworks going off slightly unnerved me. I knew the stories of the kids who had received third-degree burns, and we’d heard the dogs barking and whining in terror at the sound of the explosions.

Even back then, there was always something slightly sinister about fireworks. And that was before people started taking note of the  environmental pollution caused by fireworks or the damaging psychological effects they have on many, many people.

Then I became one of those people.  

In 2014, my then-boyfriend invited me to watch the July 4 fireworks down at the San Pedro docks in Los Angeles, where his friend owned a boat. We walked to the end of the dock with throngs of others to watch the chrysanthemums and Roman candles light up the sky in a kaleidoscope of patriotic color.

The instant the first firework exploded, I collapsed into a fetal position and could not stop shaking.

What nobody except my boyfriend knew was that 12 years earlier I had survived a suicide bombing while on assignment in Mombasa, Kenya. Thirteen people were killed, dozens maimed. I was one of the lucky ones: I walked away physically intact, though I didn’t escape the post-traumatic stress disorder that came from living through that horror.  

For a dozen years, I had avoided fireworks displays. When I finally braved them again that night at the Los Angeles pier, I was still aware that they could be a hazard to my mental health. But I thought I was taking a calculated risk that they would no longer trigger my PTSD. After all, they were only baby explosions. Not the blast of three suicide bombers driving a car into our hotel lobby and reducing it to rubble. 

But as I learned the hard way, I’m just one of millions with PTSD for whom fireworks will never again be some pretty light show. They’ll always be terrifying, for refugees from war-torn countries, for American veterans, for children who have grown up hearing gunshots in the streets. Why submit people to this trauma? 

And it’s not just humans who suffer. According to the American Society for the Prevention of Cruelty to Animals, nearly 1 in 5 pets go missing July 4 after running away from the sound of fireworks. In addition, many dogs that are safely kept inside bark, cry, whine and try to hide under furniture, shaking and quivering in exactly the same way as traumatized people.

Beyond the psychological toll, the Federal Hazardous Substances Act classifies fireworks as dangerous due to the risk of fire, injury and death from their explosives. According to the Consumer Product Safety Commission’s 2019 fireworks report, at least 12 people died from fireworks incidents that year. There were also an estimated 7,300 fireworks-related injuries between June 21 and July 21 of that year, 200 of which were the result of public fireworks displays. All easily avoidable if we just ended our obsession with death flares.

There’s also the more insidious danger of air pollution. Why, when we’re finally coming to terms with climate change, are we so willing to pour dangerous pollutants into the air? Multicolored fireworks are comprised of explosives that create carbon dioxide, nitrogen and carbon monoxide. Or, as they’re more commonly known, greenhouse gases that are destroying our environment and contributing to climate change.

 A 2015 study in the journal Atmospheric Environment noted that Independence Day fireworks introduce 42 percent more pollutants into the air than the days before and after. Plus, fireworks in America emit around 60,340 metric tons of carbon dioxide every year – the equivalent of 12,000 gas-powered cars. And much like my experience at the San Pedro docks, many fireworks are released above or around water, contaminating and polluting not just those bodies of water, but also the marine life in them.

The American Pyrotechnics Association estimated in 2013 that there are around 14,000 organized Independence Day fireworks displays, events that they promoted by saying they “can add millions of dollars to local economies” and that “sales from backyard fireworks raise significant tax revenue.”

But economics should never trump health and safety. With the advances we’ve made in technology, what’s wrong with computer-generated imaging fireworks displays if we must have them? They can still be shown with accompanying music — just without explosions.

If we care about saving our planet from harmful toxins as well as those who suffer from chronic asthma or pulmonary disease or PTSD, if we value the safety of our pets and want to stop burn units from working overtime every July, then it’s time to stand well clear and stop lighting bluetouch papers.

Kelly Hartog is an award-winning journalist, editor and book coach living in Los Angeles.

Source: | This article originally belongs to Nbcnews.com