Juneteenth- A Personal Reflection

Many individuals, of all races and ethnicities do not understand the meaning of Juneteeth. For some it is considered a celebration to appease Black Americans, while for others it is considered just another mechanism to remind everyone of the ugly side of American history. Honestly, it is an accounting of the truth. Regardless of the pain it may bring, the truth is that in 1865 Union soldiers announced the end of slavery in Galveston Texas.

Let's put this date in context. Historians consider the first documented accounting for the start of slavery in the United States to be 1619, when the privateer known as "The White Lion" brought 20 enslaved Africans to Jamestown VA. Consider the impact on an enslaved people, followed by years of Jim Crow, that morphed into engrained policies and laws that still exist today. And sadly, it isn't just laws and policies that remain harmful to the descendants of people forced to serve their captures but the embedded sense of entitlement and betterment that is worn as a security blanket, that some segments of our population and government are willing to protect at all costs.

Through this article, I want to provide a real connectedness to slavery that I have in my life and hopefully help someone understand why we as a people can't "just get over it." This is just one example because I have documented evidence of my enslaved members on all sides of my family.

The photo above is a generational picture. The woman in the center of the photo is my great, great, great grandmother Rose. She was enslaved on the Bryson Plantation in South Carolina. Rose was raped by her enslaver and had a son, John David, my 2nd great grandfather. He is the tall man holding a baby. To his left is my great grandfather Gene. I was 21 when he passed away. He was the patriarch of our family; the glue that held everyone together. The young woman is his sister Marie, and the baby is her daughter, Thelma. My grandfather is not in this picture.

Growing up, we all lived within blocks of each other. My family taught me about our journey for three primary reasons. The first is safety. I needed to know where I would be safe from abuse by White people. To this day, my mother doesn't feel safe to travel to some areas of the US. The second reason is to never forget because if we forget, history is doomed to repeat itself. I needed to be aware and prepared to fight against it. The third reason was for strength. To plant, water, and nurture within me a sense of self-pride, worth, value and belonging that could not be stripped by the bigotry and hatred I would and did face throughout my life.

I have passed these lessons to my children, and now reinforce them as they pass this on to my grandchildren and great grandchildren. There is value and safety in remembering. Juneteenth isn't a celebration; it is a reminder of factual history that should never be forgotten.