It was two and a half years later, in Galveston
Juneteenth must be celebrated by all.
It was two and a half years later on June 19, 1865 that the last freed slaves learned that they were free from 246 years of chattel slavery—in the great nation of America, “land of the free.”
My Great-Great Grandpa, Joe Malone (Malone being His slave name, my Grandma, Doni Malone’s maiden slave name, before She had to also take on Her husband’s family’s slave name, Booker) was a freed slave. Where was He when he found out He was given His freedom, begrudgingly? Who was My Grandma’s real Mother; was it Great-Grandma Cora or Doni’s older Sister, Aurelia, also called, Aunt Rilla? And why did the three of them flee from Coffeeville, Alabama to New Orleans, Louisiana at the speed of wind in the 1930s? Where was my Grandma’s Grandma? Where did She go? Why have I never heard about Her? Who were My African Ancestors? What is Their family name? What did They do? Where did They live? What languages did They speak? What did They go through when They were kidnapped? What were They feeling during Their vile voyage across the middle passage? Did They see any other captives commit suicide by jumping over the ports and starboards? How did Their brains split as Her body was raped for the 419th time? How did Their brains split as She SCEAMED!!! watching Her 76th child pulled from Her arms with a violence that could be tasted in the air? What curse did She put on the mistress when She was made to leave Her nursing babies in the fields to come inside the big house to nurse all those nursing pink and beige babies who were still humans then? So many curses on so many pink and beige demons who hate, enslave, envy, and seek to destroy Us, still. So many curses to come to pass.
And yet. We rise to forgive, again. I don’t think many have asked for Our forgiveness. But once again, We rise to forgive, again. As We protest, march, and renew Our fight for freedom, on this day of jubilee for Our freedom that was hidden from Us until two and a half years after Our Emancipation from this country’s racist, sadistic, violent people and their people’s people and the people of those same people who have remained mostly silent until three weeks ago when George Floyd was murdered by a racist, sadistic, violent cop, named derek.
But today, we stand together, and I believe that in order for all of us to realize the kind of world we crave and fight and Fight and FIGHT!!!! for, then Juneteenth must be celebrated by all.
It was two and a half years later on June 19, 1865 that the last freed slaves learned that they were free from 246 years of chattel slavery—in the great nation of America, “land of the free.”
My Great-Great Grandpa, Joe Malone (Malone being His slave name, my Grandma, Doni Malone’s maiden slave name, before She had to also take on Her husband’s family’s slave name, Booker) was a freed slave. Where was He when he found out He was given His freedom, begrudgingly? Who was My Grandma’s real Mother; was it Great-Grandma Cora or Doni’s older Sister, Aurelia, also called, Aunt Rilla? And why did the three of them flee from Coffeeville, Alabama to New Orleans, Louisiana at the speed of wind in the 1930s? Where was my Grandma’s Grandma? Where did She go? Why have I never heard about Her? Who were My African Ancestors? What is Their family name? What did They do? Where did They live? What languages did They speak? What did They go through when They were kidnapped? What were They feeling during Their vile voyage across the middle passage? Did They see any other captives commit suicide by jumping over the ports and starboards? How did Their brains split as Her body was raped for the 419th time? How did Their brains split as She SCEAMED!!! watching Her 76th child pulled from Her arms with a violence that could be tasted in the air? What curse did She put on the mistress when She was made to leave Her nursing babies in the fields to come inside the big house to nurse all those nursing pink and beige babies who were still humans then? So many curses on so many pink and beige demons who hate, enslave, envy, and seek to destroy Us, still. So many curses to come to pass.
And yet. We rise to forgive, again. I don’t think many have asked for Our forgiveness. But once again, We rise to forgive, again. As We protest, march, and renew Our fight for freedom, on this day of jubilee for Our freedom that was hidden from Us until two and a half years after Our Emancipation from this country’s racist, sadistic, violent people and their people’s people and the people of those same people who have remained mostly silent until three weeks ago when George Floyd was murdered by a racist, sadistic, violent cop, named derek.
But today, we stand together, and I believe that in order for all of us to realize the kind of world we crave and fight and Fight and FIGHT!!!! for, then Juneteenth must be celebrated by all.
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