Freedom. What a beautiful word.

It's the right to pursue one's interests without interference from others. It's what our nation was founded on, and countless Americans have died defending this idea.

Defenders of freedom have been in the news lately. They have been battling an evil -- affirmative action. It's become obvious that the Young Americans for Freedom are against it. Obviously, if they are for freedom and against affirmative action, they must believe the two are incompatible.

There is a grain of truth to their arguments. Affirmative action gives special treatment to minorities, of course at the cost of white Americans. In trying to produce freedom for all, it actually diminishes white America's freedom. It is a self-defeating practice, so therefore it should be stopped. It's an interesting argument. Too bad it's flawed.

If you believe in freedom -- true freedom -- affirmative action is not an attempt to punish whites for all the atrocities they have committed. It isn't about bringing people down. It is about helping people up. It is an attempt to give minorities a fighting chance in our society. Affirmative action isn't against freedom. Affirmative action is the only chance at freedom some people will get.

Let me tell you a story about "freedom." It deals with one of the biggest lessons I've learned in my life, and it started with a craving -- a craving for chicken.

Last summer I lived with my cousin in Philadelphia. He was a student at the University of Pennsylvania and had an apartment in West Philly. It was a great summer -- full of new people, Phillies' games and cheesesteaks. But it was kind of ironic. Living five minutes from Penn's campus, I never thought I would get my biggest lesson of the summer from a fast food restaurant.

I had just gotten off of work, and I was starved. We were sick of cooking spaghetti, and I was tired of Billybob's cheesesteaks. Then it hit us. Chicken. We were craving Colonel Sander's special recipe, and we would not be denied. A quick look through the phone book and we found that there was a Kentucky Fried Chicken at 43rd and Market, only four blocks away -- 15 minutes to gratification.

It was the longest four blocks of my life.

As we started walking away from the campus, we entered a new world. Buildings were gutted. Trash was all over the street and weeds grew out of the poorly-kept sidewalk. I was getting nervous. Ahead of us, standing on the corner, were four middle-aged men. They started yelling at us. They were black.

All I could think was, "I hope they just take my wallet. Please God, don't let them hurt me." I wasn't even listening. All they wanted to know was what time it was. Twenty-one years of telling myself I wasn't prejudiced, and I was reduced to shaking by the sight of four black men standing on a corner. Freedom. They sure as hell weren't free from my prejudices.

We moved on, even though we had lost our appetite. Way ahead, on our right, a housing project rose into the sky. We thought about turning back, but we were cocky and stubborn. We had come for chicken, and we would get it.

The KFC looked normal from the outside, but I quickly saw some differences. First of all, the place was a fortress. Bullet-proof glass separated the customers from the kitchen. After you placed your order, you had to pay through a bullet-proof box that swiveled around. You got your chicken the same way. You couldn't get into the back of that restaurant without a tank.

As I was waiting for my order, I looked around. Beepers were on kids. Kids -- no older than 13 -- were in the drug business. In my hometown, 13-year-olds were playing Little League baseball and were starting to notice the opposite sex for the first time. I don't remember seeing any teens from Towanda, Pa., wearing beepers.

While we were waiting, a woman came in with her two kids. She looked about my age. When I saw her, two words came to mind. Good luck. All I could think was that it would be a miracle to raise two kids in this environment.

Freedom. This woman did not have the freedom to raise her kids in a safe, productive environment. Violence and drugs blocked the future of her children.

When I got home that night, I started to read the paper. I mean, really read the paper. There was a story about a kid who was killed while he was waiting for some Chinese food. He was outside the restaurant when a man asked him for his wallet. The boy panicked and ran. Five bullets were blasted into his back. He bled to death five blocks from where I was living.

Freedom. His had ended. It had bled from the holes in his body. His freedom stained the sidewalk red.

Believe it or not, I oppose affirmative action. I think there's a better way. My solution is simple, but painfully impossible. Make sure every child in America, the land of freedom, is given a good education, enough food and loving parents. Make sure this child will never have to hear the words nigger, spic, slant-eye or any other degrading words when they are growing up.

Guarantee that when this child grows up, he or she will never have to worry about not being hired because some people think white is better than black. My solution is simple -- just even the playing field, which now blatantly is tipped in favor of white Americans, myself included.

But I'm not stubborn. Affirmative action isn't perfect. Neither is American society. Maybe we need to blend the two, but until that happens, I'm willing to use the flawed system of affirmative action.

America is a land of freedom -- that is, on paper. We have to make sure it is in practice as well. Affirmative action is the best attempt that's been placed on the table so far.