This is the first year that people are observing Juneteenth en masse. Companies are making an effort to show solidarity by giving their employees the day off in observance of this holiday or setting up space to talk about its importance. Great. While Juneteeth is absolutely a historical event to be celebrated and should without question be a federal holiday, it is an event representative of the ills of this country and has until very recently been all but ignored in most states and completely in corporate America. We should not forget the reason behind this oversight — America’s unyielding inability to deal with its bloody history and refusal to acknowledge its part in the systemic oppression of Black Americans.
Juneteenth is something I didn’t even know about until my aunt brought me to a celebration one year at her church when I was in high school. There is where I learned the history of the holiday, what it meant to us as African Americans, and also made me realize that school was a joke when it came to black history in America. Today has me thinking of the ways my family taught me my history and made sure to instill pride in where I came from and hope for the future.
My grandmother made it a point to tell us about her childhood and stories she heard growing up of senseless beatings and killings, so we would understand what it took for us to get here. One story she tells is about her uncle who came to live with them in South Carolina after his father was murdered by a white man for “talking back” to him. This wasn’t a police officer or anyone with authority- not that his position matters, but to put this into context to understand that black people were NOT PROTECTED during that time (or now!!). This was a civilian who murdered my family member because he refused to sell him additional provisions. This psychopath shot him in front of his own son. My grandmother’s uncle, Luscious, witnessed his father’s death and the man who killed him didn’t face any charges whatsoever. That is why he had to go live with them. Understandably, he grew up with a searing resentment for white people. When he was older, living with my grandmother, one evening there were whispers of the Klan, yes, the Ku Klux Klan, riding through their town. Luscious wasn’t having it. He said, let them come, and gathered his shot gun and waited by the window. The Klan made sure to steer clear of the house that night, but Luscious was ready to defend the family with his life. That is just one story. There are countless stories like this that don’t end with everyone being alive in the end. Mind you, this was after slavery ended, so I don’t want to ever hear anyone ever again say “get over it,” because the mentality that black people were allowed, sometimes encouraged to be terrorized without consequence went on long after slavery ended and continues today.
I learned about slavery and the middle passage more extensively in college. Reading slave narratives and visiting museums that didn’t shy away from the gruesome details of the most inhumane practice that continued in this country for hundreds of years. At that point, my mother and I began having involved conversations about the lasting effects slavery had on the black community and how that pain manifests in different ways. She always told me to never let anyone define me or tell me what I’m allowed to become. She always- well, mostly, encouraged my interests and afforded me a space to express myself without judgement. Except when I played Coldplay. She absolutely hated that, but for my 16th birthday she bought me Coldplay tickets. It was one of the best bday gifts anyone has ever given me. Anyway, she really helped me understand that the system is rigged against us, but that should never deter my dreams. I wouldn’t be who I am today without my family’s wisdom and encouragement.
This brings me to a sentiment going around online about how “We are not our ancestors…” followed by something like, we’ll hit you, or we’ll beat your ass, which I guess is supposed to be funny, but really makes me uncomfortable. It implies that our ancestors weren’t defending themselves, but they had to survive and their will to survive is the reason we’re all here! It also implies weakness, but there is nothing but strength in enduring the middle passage in hulls of ships, literally, on top of each other for months with little food and water or any idea of when/where this hellish nightmare ends.
This is is a diagram of how they were to be STORED to travel the east:
Once they got there, they were auctioned off to the highest bidder on auction blocks used for livestock or ones built for humans. There was an auction block still intact in Virginia, which has since been removed recently (IN 2017!!!):
Mind you, they were coming from different tribes, different places, so if they did know each other on the Middle Passage there was a slim to none chance they would stay together. That goes for FAMILIES as well. Children torn from their crying mothers and fathers, spouses separated without thought, families torn apart, and this didn’t just happen once they got off of that slave ship. Family integrity was never promised and often would be ripped apart on a regular basis. Rape. Torture. Beatings. Killings. Death. There was nothing white people could do to slaves that they would be held accountable for. Nothing was sacred during slavery. Nothing. So, when I hear “we are not out ancestors” I think of everything they’ve been through and it enrages me. I am astounded by their fortitude to just get up and live everyday in a society that didn’t see them as people and persevered. I am eternally grateful for their sacrifice, endurance, and willingness to live in some semblance of joy to get through an impossible to comprehend moment in history.
Today I celebrate their freedom. I celebrate our collective exultation. I celebrate our resilience. I celebrate our music. I celebrate our culture. And I celebrate the love that resounds in all of us and has kept us going all these years. We deserve to be happy today and continue to hold onto that happiness as we continue to fight for our equality.
