“It’s the freedom for me.”
This cringeworthy phrase, now plastered on retail cookout gear and swag, instantly provoked the ire of any person who grew up in Texas who feared what would happen if Juneteenth went mainstream.
Since the racial uprisings of 2020, there’s been an increased national interest in Juneteenth as more people strive to celebrate Black people and our history year-round. The intention of Black people seeking joy during these fraught times is admirable—but impact trumps intention when it comes to the diversity of our culture. As someone who grew up near Galveston, Texas, (via Houston, for most of my childhood), the Juneteenth I remember celebrating has now become whitewashed and/or remixed into something more nationally palpable than what I ever imagined.
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Translation: What’s happening right now isn’t it, and to those who wanted Juneteenth to become this national Black holiday—congratulations, you’re ruining it. Which is why it’s important to remind everyone that Juneteenth has a special relevance for Black Texans and shouldn't be commodified as a national holiday. If we want a national Emancipation Day, that’s fine—but don’t have it on June 19th and don’t call it Juneteenth.
For starters, it’s important to understand how we got here. When the Civil War ended in April 1865, enslaved Black Texans weren’t aware that they were free. That all changed on June 19, 1865, when Major General Gordon Granger marched Union soldiers to Galveston to finally inform them of their emancipation. “Juneteenth” was named after that historic day and first became a Texas state holiday in 1979—even though freed Black Texans had been celebrating it as early as June 1866.
My family treated Juneteenth as a time of reflection and connection. The Juneteenth Parade and accompanying gatherings were more intimate (and Blacker) than your typical holiday celebrations, for good reason. It was about Black people remembering their ancestors, while focusing on what freedom truly meant for them then and us now. Migration from those descendants has influenced Juneteenth celebrations across the country for decades, while still keeping intact the history of what made June 19 special, without losing sight of the Black Texans who were enslaved much longer than others across the country.
Since 2020, the fight for diversity, equity, and inclusion has advanced recognition of Juneteenth without actually respecting its origin and history. Calling it “America’s Freedom Day” and turning it into another opportunity for those to take a day off or host a cookout has cheapened its meaning. Now living in Philadelphia, I have heard people refer to Juneteenth as the “Black Fourth of July,” which only infuriates Texas natives like myself—who know better.
This is what happens when corporate interests overshadow collective understanding. To Black people who are just finding out about Juneteenth, to liken it to the celebrations of White America is to strip our enslaved ancestors down to a pissing match. The goal was to remember their legacy in that particular part of the nation—given the history of slavery in the South, and Texas more specifically. Today, anyone who dares criticize similar initiatives, including those led by other Black people not from Texas, are misguidedly called “gatekeepers” or suppressors of the culture.
But there’s a difference between gatekeeping and reinforcing the facts. When I see organizations incorporate pan-African red, green, and black colors when attempting to celebrate Juneteenth, I can’t help but call out the fact that red, white, and blue are the correct colors to recognize this day. When people declare it as the official emancipation day for all Black Americans, it’s important for me to note that not all Black Americans were freed on the same day, and several states have their own Emancipation Days that recognize when Black people became freedmen in that particular region.
Why does this matter? Because if society is striving to appreciate Black people, it must also mean not letting corporations or grifters hijack the history and origins of our culture. Not everything is for everyone, and that’s OK. There’s a way to appreciate something without appropriating it. When there were debates about whether or not Walmart should have recently discontinued their launch of a Juneteenth flavor of ice cream in their supermarkets—that’s when I knew we were not on the same page.
It’s high time that we let Black Texans, and their descendants who have maintained respective celebrations outside of the state, have Juneteenth for themselves. This is not “America’s Freedom Day,” but theirs. Rather than pout about gatekeeping, others should look up the actual Emancipation Days in their respective state and agitate legislators to make it more official.
For example, Pennsylvania state Rep. Chris Rabb introduced legislation to make Pennsylvania Emancipation Day (which is Feb. 3, the day the state ratified the Thirteenth Amendment in 1865) a state holiday. If it becomes law or not, this would perhaps be the proper opportunity for Black Pennsylvanians to celebrate their freedom with the same fervor as they do Juneteenth.
If there’s something that can be learned from all of this it’s that not all Black people, customs, and histories reside within a monolith—and that’s not a bad thing.
