From the African American perspective, Juneteenth is not just a date on the calendar. It is a sacred reminder of a painful truth and a powerful promise. It reminds us that on June 19, 1865, enslaved Africans in Galveston, Texas, finally received the news that they were free—more than two years after the Emancipation Proclamation had been signed.
That delay matters.
It teaches us that freedom announced is not always freedom received. Justice written into law is not always justice lived in everyday life. And equality promised is not always equality experienced.
For African Americans, Juneteenth carries the weight of generations—generations who endured slavery, segregation, discrimination, exclusion, violence, and indignity, yet still held on to faith, family, hope, and the belief that America could one day live up to the true meaning of its creed.
I speak with a voice of an African American, who was born and raised in the swaps of South Alabama. Segregation and Jim Crow were the laws of the land. Separation, inequality, and discrimination were enforced by men dressed in Blue uniforms during the day, and, these same men, draped in a White sheet, a White hood on their head. torch in their hands while riding horseback to inflect terror in the minds and hearts of Black residents.
Juneteenth is a celebration of freedom, but it is also a reminder that freedom has always required courage. It required the courage of enslaved people who never stopped believing in their own humanity. It required the courage of abolitionists, soldiers, teachers, ministers, parents, and ordinary people who refused to accept injustice as normal. It required the courage of those who marched, prayed, organized, voted, served, and sacrificed so that future generations might have opportunities they were denied.
I stand here tonight knowing that I am the beneficiary of that courage.
Like many African Americans, my life has been shaped by the strength of those who came before me — people who worked hard, loved deeply, served faithfully, and believed that education, service, and community could open doors that once were closed.
Juneteenth is not only African American history. It is American history. It is part of the story of who we are as a nation—the painful parts, the proud parts, and the unfinished parts.
That is why Juneteenth proclamations matters.
A proclamation is more than words on paper. It is a public statement of values. It says that this city recognizes the history, honors the struggle, celebrates the contributions of African Americans, and commits itself to building a community where freedom, dignity, fairness, and opportunity are not reserved for some, but extended to all.
As we celebrate Juneteenth, we must also ask ourselves: What does freedom require of us today?
It requires us to listen to one another with humility. It requires us to teach our children the truth about history—not to divide them, but to prepare them to build a better future. It requires us to make sure every child, regardless of race, background, neighborhood, or family income, has the opportunity to learn, grow, feel safe, and succeed.
It requires us to confront disparities where they still exist:
- In education;
- Housing;
- Health;
- Employment;
- Public safety; and
- Access to opportunity.
And it requires us to move beyond symbolic recognition into meaningful action.
But Juneteenth is also a day of joy.
It is a day to celebrate African American culture, resilience, music, faith, food, family, creativity, leadership, and community. It is a day to honor ancestors whose names we may never know, but whose sacrifices made our lives possible. It is a day to celebrate progress, while acknowledging that progress must never be taken for granted.
My hope is that Juneteenth will continue to bring us together—not in guilt, but in truth; not in division, but in understanding; not in anger, but in a shared commitment to justice, dignity, and love of community.
Wally Webster II, Founder and President of the ACCESS Project
The ACCESS Project is a community navigation and coordination model designed to help young people and families move through a fragmented youth mental-health system before problems escalate. The ACCESS Project exists because too many youth and families are not failing because they do not care — they are failing because the system is too hard to see, too hard to enter, and too hard to navigate.
Learn more about Wally Webster II, click here.
COMMENTARY DISCLAIMER: The views and comments expressed are those of the writer and not necessarily those of the Lynnwood Times nor any of its affiliate
Author: Lynnwood Times Contributor
