Growing up, my favorite PBS series was Liberty’s Kids. For a long time, I thought my love for the show stemmed simply from its focus on the Thirteen Colonies’ messy transition to becoming a new nation. I assumed its significance in my life ended there. But as I’ve gotten older, I’ve spent more time considering why I appreciated the show so much as a child.
For those unfamiliar, Liberty’s Kids follows three teenagers—James, Sarah, and Henri—who travel the thirteen colonies, encountering key figures of the Revolutionary War. They serve as apprentice journalists at Ben Franklin’s Pennsylvania Gazette. James is an orphan Franklin took in after his parents died in a fire. Sarah is the daughter of Franklin’s friends, arriving from England to reunite with her father, who is scouting land in the Ohio River Valley. Henri is a French former indentured servant, freed with the help of James and Moses, the Gazette’s supervisor. Moses, a freed Black man, leads the Gazette. His backstory is among the most compelling: kidnapped with his brother Cato, sold into slavery (possibly in Charleston), Moses learns blacksmithing and eventually earns enough to buy his own freedom. This skill often proves useful as he repairs the Gazette’s printing press throughout the series. Cato, Moses’s brother, also plays a significant role, especially in later episodes.
I related to all the characters growing up. Henri was often on the lookout for his next meal—something I did as well, which, in hindsight, makes sense given my later PCOS diagnosis. Like Henri, I was also known for being a bit clumsy. With James, I could relate to his desire to argue his point, even when it didn’t benefit him—my own stubbornness echoed his. However, I relate most to Sarah. She believes she is right, and she often is. Sarah is helpful when needed and can see both sides of the revolution, starting the series as a loyalist from England. Like James, she is argumentative, but her better manners allow her to move through social circles more easily. I connect with her most because she is often conflicted and open to changing her opinions as the series progresses.
What set Liberty’s Kids apart was its willingness to tackle difficult topics. The series addressed the mistreatment of Native Americans, dedicating multiple episodes to their perspective, including one focused on Joseph Brant. It also explored the profound contradiction of a democracy founded alongside the institution of slavery. Thomas Jefferson is depicted as a slave owner, and Sarah’s horror at this fact is portrayed in a way that helps children understand the human cost. Later episodes focus on Cato, who escapes to fight for the British in hopes of securing his freedom, and examines the war’s aftermath for him and others.
By exposing the Founding Fathers’ hypocrisy and the heartbreak of family separation, the series raises essential questions about justice and who the Revolutionary War was truly fought for. Women and children in the show also challenge authority figures and demand answers, modeling critical thinking and advocacy. This demonstrates that a true democracy must allow everyone to participate and question those in power.
What helped me connect to the series the most was seeing myself reflected in the Revolutionary War history they told. I hope many viewers were able to say the same, depending on which episode resonated with them. By highlighting the roles of women, people of color, and individuals I hadn’t heard of before—like Deborah Sampson—the series showed me that meaningful contributions aren’t limited to those with thick biographies written about them centuries later. As I reflect on Liberty’s Kids now, I appreciate not just its historical storytelling, but its courage in presenting complex truths to young audiences. The series encouraged me to ask difficult questions and seek deeper understanding—a legacy that has grown with me into adulthood.
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