Dear editor:
Growing up in a middle-class white neighborhood in the 1960s and ’70s, I thought I had a decent handle on African American history. I learned about the Civil War, that …
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Dear editor:
Growing up in a middle-class white neighborhood in the 1960s and ’70s, I thought I had a decent handle on African American history. I learned about the Civil War, that President Lincoln freed the slaves, and that the country began to heal. We heard a little about Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. and Jackie Robinson, and I thought that the big wrongs of the past had been made right and black Americans were in an even place.
But as I’ve gotten older, and hopefully a little wiser, I’ve realized just how much I didn’t know. One of the biggest gaps in my understanding was about Juneteenth. I’m embarrassed to admit that I only learned about its significance a few years ago.
Juneteenth became a federal holiday in 2021 with the signing of the Juneteenth National Independence Day Act. And reflecting its identity as the Equality State, Wyoming was among the first to formally recognize the holiday, doing so in 2003.
The story of Juneteenth traces back to June 19, 1865, when Union troops arrived in Galveston, Texas, and announced that slavery had finally ended, more than two years after the Emancipation Proclamation had been issued.
More than 250,000 black men, women and children in Texas had remained in slavery simply because no one told them they were free. Their white enslavers, many of them educated and well aware of the law, chose to keep it a secret to maintain their power and labor force. It’s a sobering reminder that freedom, even when promised, doesn’t always arrive when it should.
On that day in 1865, Union Major General Gordon Granger arrived by ship with a force of 2,000 Union troops. Texas had been largely untouched by major fighting during the Civil War, and many enslavers had moved there to avoid the reach of Union forces, believing they could hold onto slavery longer. Granger’s mission was to take control of the region and enforce the law.
Shortly after landing, Granger and his men marched through the city, posting “General Order No. 3” in public places and announcing:
“The people of Texas are informed that, in accordance with a proclamation from the Executive of the United States, all slaves are free.”
Can you imagine what that moment must have felt like? Families who had lived their entire lives in bondage suddenly hearing that they were free. After generations of suffering, the news must have felt unbelievable, overwhelming, and life-changing. I picture quiet celebrations with tears, prayer, embraces, private moments of joy as hope broke through years of hardship. It had to be one of the most powerful moments in American history.
But the reaction among the newly freed varied. While many gave thanks in hushed voices, few dared to celebrate openly. Freedom had come, but it came with no promise of protection, shelter, or support. Fear lingered. Most were too cautious to dance in the streets or raise their voices in public celebration. They were free in law, but without resources or support.
Freedom came late, and without a safety net. Many enslavers hung on to their workers as long as they could. Some even refused to acknowledge the order. Black Americans faced steep uphill battles: no land, no money and a society that still didn’t welcome them as equals. Systems like sharecropping and segregation rose up to keep people in second-class status, and for most, the fight for basic rights and dignity stretched on for generations, and continues for many today.
So when we talk about Juneteenth, we should remember it as a celebration, but it’s also a reminder that freedom in this country has often come slowly, and unevenly.
As a 61-year-old white man who’s lived a comfortable life, I was never pushed to confront this side of our history. Over time, I’ve come to understand that learning doesn’t stop, and that it’s just as important to reflect on what I wasn’t taught as what I was. Now, I’m trying to do what I should have started long ago: to listen more closely and be open to seeing things with a fresh perspective.
Juneteenth isn’t just black history. It’s American history. And recognizing it, even in small communities like ours, is a step toward understanding each other more fully. This year, I’ll be thinking about that delayed day of freedom, and how we can keep working toward a country where no one has to wait so long to be seen, heard, or treated fairly.
John M. Bernhisel
Cowley