Juneteenth 2020

I went looking for any posts in which I'd mentioned, much less observed, Juneteenth.  They were all from this year, with the exception of one from 2017 where I apparently used the word in passing.  I will freely admit that, growing up as a white person in East Texas (the most culturally "Southern" part of Texas, which is not to say the most racist.  I've found racism endemic throughout Texas.  In that way, it mirrors the nation.), I never heard of Juneteenth.  I must have started hearing about it in the late '70's or the '80's, when it became a state holiday in Texas, because I remember hearing the word and thinking somebody had made it up as a racist joke on supposed "black" English.  Yeah, that is still my first memory of it.

This excellent comment in the New Yorker explains part of that.  Juneteenth comes after school is out, and blacks in my hometown were probably celebrating it while I was waiting for July 4th (well, and my June birthday, but that's another matter).  Of course, even if it hadn't been in summer, I wouldn't have heard of it growing up.  The public schools I attended weren't integrated until 1970, my first year of high school.  I didn't grow up with black friends, and didn't make any in high school. Despite being a Texas holiday in origin, even the origin of it wasn't taught to me in history class.

Now, as Annette Gordon-Reed explains, black Texans have spread out across the country, and taken Juneteenth with them.  Just this morning NPR read Lincoln's "Emancipation Proclamation," and I finally understood the legal basis for it.  It was an order to the Union Army, in essence, to consider all slaves to be free persons in those states where the Union Army had a presence or even control.  That detail satisfies my lawyerly mind, but still the day means little to me.  I don't have a claim on the freedom of the slaves.  So far as I know my ancestors were never rich enough to own slaves.  If memory serves, my direct ancestors came to this country after the question was settled, but I may be wrong about that.  I'm quite sure they never enjoyed enough prosperity to own slave labor, but that's not a badge of honor for me.  I accept that I grew up in a racist system, even as my parents taught me we were all God's children.  Their attitude, from their upbringing and their own thoughts, was more like the joke I heard from a black stand-up comic about the integration of the Armed Forces.  He recalled a Marine sargeant telling his assembled troops that there was no color distinction in the Marines, and after the meeting broke up, he wanted some of the "dark green Marines" to police the area for cigarette butts and trash.

Separate, but kinda sorta equal.  And fine distinctions to be drawn between "racists" and (worse) "white supremacists" and people who were "prejudiced" or just "don't want my daughter to marry one."  I am the heir to all that.

But Juneteenth is not about me.  It's not mine, either.  I don't rejoice in it, except as it makes others rejoice.  I don't note it, because in this historical context that would be taking something away from someone more deserving of the celebration.  I may be invited to the feast, but I cannot invite myself.

I suppose it should be a national holiday, as a way of acknowledging slavery, something we have resolutely refused to do since the end of the Civil War.  Taking down the statues would be a start (and why is no one mentioning removal of that gargantuan monstrosity on the capitol grounds in "liberal" Austin?).  Acknowledging a national day that marks, at least informally, the end of slavery (the 13th Amendment, which truly ended slavery, became part of the constitution almost one month shy of 3 years after Lincoln's executive order), is probably in order.  But we don't do national atonement very well, and we don't need another excuse for sales and corporate promotions of "sincerity."

As one of my oldest friends put it to his church today:

June 19th Observance

I am aware as I write this that it is June 19, the day news of the Emancipation Proclamation reached Texas - two years after Lincoln signed it. Coincidentally, it was also my sister's birthday. Rather than pontificate about the issues we all know we are facing, I would urge that we listen to people of color about their experiences today. Hold your tongue, and just listen.But it's not for me to decide, is it?

I buried his sister, who was also a friend of mine.  For me, this should be a day of remembrance, at least.  A reminder that, though I keep saying "I" and "me," it's not about me.