Juneteenth

I’m not sure when I first heard of Juneteenth. Probably when Ralph Ellison’s novel of the same name was published. That was in 1999. God knows, we weren’t taught all that much about black history when I was in school. Having gone to Catholic schools, the bias was towards elevating awareness of missionaries and other Catholics. (Did public schools focus as closely on Junipero Serra as parochial schools did? Does anyone other than Catholic school kids know that John Barry, an Irishman and a Catholic, is the Father of the U.S. Navy?)

Pretty much the only black history I learned was a bit about abolition, the Civil War, Reconstruction, and George Washington Carver.

In college, I learned a bit more. And read W.E.B. DuBois.

A couple of years ago, I finally got around to walking the Black Heritage Trail in Boston.

But Juneteenth? The day in 1865 (June 19th) when the last slaves were freed? Never heard of it until I was well into adulthood.

It’s been a long time since I studied history, but I’m guessing that it hasn’t improved all that much in terms of exposing students to the elements that are less than glorious in our history, that poke a hole or two in our scrim of exceptionalism. The treatment of Native Americans. Systemic racism. WWII internment camps. Turning away Jewish refugees.

Sure, there’s probably a bit more Rosa Parks and Tuskegee Airmen in the history books than there used to be. But probably not enough.

I’ve been thinking about this a lot of late, especially in light of the treatment of African Americans at the hands of the police, and/or at the hands of regular old civilians. Treatment that’s been going on for centuries, but that’s now being recorded and exposed thanks to smartphone cameras.

The latest outrage is a young African-American family in Phoenix who were pulled over for suspicion of shoplifting an inexpensive doll and/or a package of underwear from a Dollar Store. The family – pregnant woman, her fiancé, their baby and their four year old – were surrounded by cops, guns drawn, swearing at them, screaming at them, and threatening to shoot them. Etc.

Even after all we’ve seen, watching this video is a shocking experience.

And it reminds me that as brilliant and exceptional as this country is and has been – our legal institutions (still hanging on…), the freedom from tyranny and autocracy we have enjoyed (so far), our historic ability to absorb immigrants and turn them into Americans (including my very own Ellis Island grandfather who became a prosperous business and property owner, a Republican voter, and a baseball fan) – we still have plenty of work to do.

In a D-Day tweet, Mike Huckabee – former Arkansas governor and father of Sarah Huckabee Sanders – opined:

Must have been an "awkward" moment for Angela Merkel to sit in ceremony as the Allies commemorated D-Day that broke the back of Nazi Germany.

What a snide little clip…

If any country has owned up to its past, it’s Germany. They have acknowledged their responsibility for the Holocaust. They educate their students about it. They’ve made reparations and prosecuted war criminals. They’ve made their country a haven for immigrants. And they’ve built a robust and exemplary democracy.

Whereas we have never faced up to and faced down the racism in our history. Even worse, we have plenty – I’m looking at you, Huck – who glorify in the noble Lost Cause of the sketchy Confederate past. What does that say to our African American brethren?

Sure, we “celebrate” Black History Month. Teach kids about Emmett Till. Cry over those little girls slaughtered in the Birmingham church bombings. Revile Bull Connor and his police dogs. Hell, we even elected a black man. Twice.

But we’ve never done the hard work of grappling with what’s not so glorious in our past, and how it translates into what’s not so glorious in our present – especially if you’re an African American.

Nobody should fear for their life because their four year old may or may not have grabbed a 99 cent fake Barbie, or the man of the family may or may not have lifted a package of cheap undies.

So here we are at Juneteenth.

Not that I have a clue about what to “do” about racism.

But I know what not to do about it, and that’s to deny that it exists, to pretend that we’re in a post-racial society.

I’ve never celebrated Juneteenth, but today I’m ready to do something or other in honor of this day of liberation.

I’ve pulled Colson Whitehead’s Underground Railroad out of my pile of partially-read books. I had started in on it a while back, but had put it down as too painful. But it’s a must read. And I’m going to get back to reading it.

I plan on watching the second episode of Anna DuVernay’s When They See Us, her show about the Central Park Five. A painful but must watch.

And I think I’ll head up to Boston’s Museum of African American History and sit in the Meeting House for a bit. Trying to imagine what the American experience has been like for those who aren’t whiter than white.