Tea holds a cultural weight far greater than its literal self. As a bedrock of British culture, it is adopted by many colonists as their drink of choice. England assumes it is so indispensable to the colonies that they tax it, and later, they monopolize its importation and distribution to thwart tea smuggling. When colonists board ships in Boston Harbor and dump the tea overboard, the act carries a symbolic meaning beyond a simple act of vandalism. By rejecting a staple of British culture, the colonists also reject Britain in totality—its monarchy, its onerous taxes, the very notion that they need England to survive. Interestingly, many of the colonists are beginning to try a new beverage—coffee—as symbolic evidence of the colonies’ morphing identity. They are no longer expatriate Englishmen but resoundingly, affirmatively American.

One of the greatest points of misunderstanding between England and the colonies is the king and his generals’ assumption that the might of its army will inspire fear and awe, that the revolution will be die merely by intimidation. That assumption is symbolized by the British military uniforms. As the streets of Boston are filled with red coats (“lobster backs” in colonial parlance), the British see a majestic peacekeeping force; the colonists see the oppression of an empire.