America’s second independence day
I thought this was a nice thought for this holiday:
There are little joys to be found in overheard conversations, like this recent gem on an Acela train. A couple of young professional dude-bros sat behind me and were discussing why they couldn’t reschedule something for the 19th of June. “Because it’s Juneteenth — we get it off this year,” one said. And after a beat or two too long, the other replied, “Oh yeah. What’s it for anyways? Like, I know for Black people but …”
The first gave a pitying chuckle and returned with, “It’s when America freed the slaves” — followed by an incredulous, “C’mon man.”
I mean, well, yes. Juneteenth commemorates the day when — more than two months after Robert E. Lee’s surrender to Ulysses S. Grant and more than two years after Abraham Lincoln’s Proclamation — a Union army finally reached South Texas with news of emancipation. But I was far less interested in historical accuracy than I was in the fact that these two guys were having a casual Juneteenth civics conversation. Five years ago, that exchange would’ve been unimaginable. Most Americans had little clue what Juneteenth was until it became a federal holiday in 2021.
The newness of the holiday for much of the country means that there’s no shared set of traditions associated with it yet. Without ritual and mythology, things do not stick to the culture. We need to decide what the holiday will mean for us and for posterity.
This doesn’t happen without thought and effort. Labor Day, for example, has become an end-of-summer milestone rather than an homage to the American worker. So I cringed to see social media last year fill with pictures of Juneteenth-themed party supplies and T-shirts in red, black, green and gold. These were clearly the product of a marketing shortcut: Nothing says Black people like kente cloth or the Pan-African red, black and green.
But in America, to mark something as explicitly Black is to understand that some will interpret that as exclusively Black. So robing Juneteenth in those colors and patterns will naturally cause many to think that the holiday is “for Black people,” rather than an observation of a vital story for all Americans. Given this marketing, it wouldn’t have surprised me to hear from my fellow train passengers that “Juneteenth is kind of like a summer Kwanzaa.” A mishmash of cultural understanding, perhaps, but serviceable.
Don’t get me wrong. An occasion to mark the mythical Black American Cookout (with its specific instructions of who can bring what and its notoriously stingy invitation list) is always welcome.
But Juneteenth must be a national and inclusive holiday with a narrative to match. It symbolizes how the emancipation of Black people initiated a new beginning for a nation that had fallen short of its founding ideals. It recalls the important truth that emancipation was not a gift; it was hard won by perhaps the greatest multiracial coalition the nation has ever assembled — with Black Americans actively engaged in the taking. The promise of America is clearest in the resulting Reconstruction amendments.
Juneteenth represents the ushering in of this new nation, and a glimpse of its potential. For Independence Day to have any meaning that connects to the founding ideals, Juneteenth must exist. Without a shared celebration of June 19, there is no reason for fireworks on July 4. It’s for this reason that the initiating legislation was titled the Juneteenth National Independence Day Act. At its core, the holiday observes the nation’s rebirth, its second founding.
The colors on the Juneteenth flag are red, white and blue; they must be. It is an American holiday, not a Pan-African one. When Lincoln and various organizations proposed exporting enslaved Black Americans to freedom on distant shores, Black folks almost universally refused. Their goal was not just freedom — but freedom here, in the country they helped shape and build. Imagine the national pride required to fight so hard and for so long to improve a place and become fully part of it.
Our national story urges every American to remember both a past in which our forebears were excluded and their battle for inclusion. This is the common thread in the story of every American, no matter their race, ethnicity or nation of origin. Juneteenth has the potential to represent that shared narrative better than any other civic observance. It comes just a few weeks after Memorial Day and a couple weeks before Independence Day. After a solemn remembrance of those who have given their lives in service to the country, but before celebrating another year of existence, Juneteenth represents the pride and resolve necessary to keep the nation moving forward. It admonishes us not to squander the sacrifices of previous generations. In this moment of divisive indictments and a looming presidential election, it is a hopeful project to shape the holiday’s meaning and traditions.
For now, I’m content to know that more of us are learning of an official holiday to mark the end of slavery in the United States. This is a big deal and something we should all be proud of. Before the summer Kwanzaa commercialization takes permanent control, however, there is still a chance to replace it with an annual reaffirmation of a commitment to build an inclusive democracy. We can still dream.
Indeed we can. And we must.