There you have it! 250 years ago, a handful of people bet everything on an idea few thought would…
July 4, 2026 · 0 likes · 0 comments
Defense
There you have it! 250 years ago, a handful of people bet everything on an idea few thought would work.
I came from Marseille on an E-2 visa. And an E-2 is not permanence. It's permission. The United States looks at you and says: "Fine. You can come. You can work. You can build. Your business has to exist. As long as it does, you can stay."
I respected the hell out of that deal.
Most countries on earth don't offer it. You don't need a diploma. You don't need a family name. You need a business and the guts to bet everything on it. America rewards that. So I bet everything.
I moved to Times Square. Not Brooklyn. Not some quiet street where French expats drink wine and complain about American cheese. Times Square. People thought I was insane. I saw the epicenter of the machine — pure, relentless American energy — and I wanted to stand in the middle of it.
The minute I got there, I knew I was never going back. Not "probably not." Not "we'll see." Ever.
You fill out the forms. You study a test on American history that most Americans would fail. You wait. You get the letter. And then you show up at a government building with a hundred other people from fifty different countries, you raise your right hand, and you become American.
My father flew in from France. He didn't tell me. He surprised me. I walked into that room expecting to do it alone — and there was my dad, standing in the back. The man who signed the paperwork for my first company because I was too young to do it myself at 15.
I didn't just choose America.
That morning, America chose me back.
And here's the part I never forget on the Fourth of July:
None of it — not the visa, not the company, not the citizenship, not the freedom to build in the loudest, freest country on earth — exists without the people who guard it.
The warfighters.
The men and women who raise their right hand for a different oath. Who deploy while the rest of us sleep. Who miss the birthdays and the ceremonies and the quiet Tuesdays so that the rest of us get to have them. Who stand on a wall most Americans will never see so a kid from Marseille could chase a dream in Times Square.
I've had the honor of building alongside them at the Pentagon. I've watched what they carry. I've seen what they're willing to give.
So today, on America's 250th birthday, my thank you goes to them first.
Thank you for the country. Thank you for the freedom to build in it. Thank you for defending an idea that let a legal immigrant become a citizen.
Happy Birthday, America. 🇺🇸
You're still the greatest bet on earth. And I'll spend the rest of my life proving it was worth taking.
I came from Marseille on an E-2 visa. And an E-2 is not permanence. It's permission. The United States looks at you and says: "Fine. You can come. You can work. You can build. Your business has to exist. As long as it does, you can stay."
I respected the hell out of that deal.
Most countries on earth don't offer it. You don't need a diploma. You don't need a family name. You need a business and the guts to bet everything on it. America rewards that. So I bet everything.
I moved to Times Square. Not Brooklyn. Not some quiet street where French expats drink wine and complain about American cheese. Times Square. People thought I was insane. I saw the epicenter of the machine — pure, relentless American energy — and I wanted to stand in the middle of it.
The minute I got there, I knew I was never going back. Not "probably not." Not "we'll see." Ever.
You fill out the forms. You study a test on American history that most Americans would fail. You wait. You get the letter. And then you show up at a government building with a hundred other people from fifty different countries, you raise your right hand, and you become American.
My father flew in from France. He didn't tell me. He surprised me. I walked into that room expecting to do it alone — and there was my dad, standing in the back. The man who signed the paperwork for my first company because I was too young to do it myself at 15.
I didn't just choose America.
That morning, America chose me back.
And here's the part I never forget on the Fourth of July:
None of it — not the visa, not the company, not the citizenship, not the freedom to build in the loudest, freest country on earth — exists without the people who guard it.
The warfighters.
The men and women who raise their right hand for a different oath. Who deploy while the rest of us sleep. Who miss the birthdays and the ceremonies and the quiet Tuesdays so that the rest of us get to have them. Who stand on a wall most Americans will never see so a kid from Marseille could chase a dream in Times Square.
I've had the honor of building alongside them at the Pentagon. I've watched what they carry. I've seen what they're willing to give.
So today, on America's 250th birthday, my thank you goes to them first.
Thank you for the country. Thank you for the freedom to build in it. Thank you for defending an idea that let a legal immigrant become a citizen.
Happy Birthday, America. 🇺🇸
You're still the greatest bet on earth. And I'll spend the rest of my life proving it was worth taking.