Blessings to you all on this Juneteenth.

As a white woman in the United States, Juneteenth was not a holiday I grew up celebrating.  I never heard it mentioned when I was a child or youth, and even though I went to a seminary right next to Harlem in NYC, I didn't learn about Juneteenth until 5 or so years ago when I lived in Boston attending another seminary.  Facebook friends were posting messages wishing people a happy Juneteenth, and I had to look up what they were talking about.  Such a stark example of the blinders white privilege creates and perpetuates.

Juneteenth, also known as Freedom Day, celebrates the day news of the Emancipation Proclamation finally reached Texas, and ended legal slavery in the US (I make the distinction of referring to legal slavery ending because we know that slavery still exists in many forms).  That was June 19, 1865: two and a half years after the Emancipation Proclamation was signed into law.  Two and a half years.  Granted there wasn't social media and email to spread the news back then, but the time between declaration and effect demonstrates that it isn't enough to just change the laws as they are written.  What the law says doesn't matter until it is enforced.

On Juneteenth, I have a few responsibilities as a white woman.  First is to acknowledge my privilege and my own racism.  It feels incredibly uncomfortable to write this, but I know it is true: I am a racist.  I am a white woman raised in the United States, shaped and influenced by racist systems and attitudes that value my white skin more than the black, brown, and Asian skin of other people.  I strive to unlearn my racist prejudices and assumptions, and I want to be held accountable when I mess up and act racially insensitively or down-right racist.  I pray I am correct that my actions are rarely overtly racist, and I acknowledge that I am cannot be the best judge of whether or not that is true.

Second is to pledge and take concrete action to be anti-racist.  This includes working not only on my own racism but also calling out racist remarks or actions I witness and advocating for changes in the racist systems around me.  I promise to work my way through this list of "75 Things White People Can Do For Racial Justice" created by Corinne Shutack.

My third responsibility is to lift up stories and voices that are not my own.  In that spirit, here are a few articles about Juneteenth and current events by people who know much more than me:

"How Companies and Individuals Can Use Juneteenth to Practice Active Allyship" by Kiva Wilson and Dr. Evelyn Carter

"Why Juneteenth is a Celebration of Hope" by Rachel Jones for National Geographic

"Black Lives + TikTok + A Movement NOT A Moment" The African PhD

Today is Thanksgiving Day in the United States, and I have been lucky to spend this day with my family and good friends.  My Thanksgiving has been full of relaxation, food, and love: exactly what American culture has taught me to desire and expect on this day.  I am incredibly grateful for this day and the hard work my parents have put in to building a life where this is possible for our family.  I have enjoyed this opportunity to recharge, to continue old and new traditions, and reflect on the blessings I have.

Blessings are one word for what I experienced today - privilege is another.  I am privileged by my family history (upper-middle class), race (White), education (PhD), and a current job that allows me a day off with pay.  There are many in my community without these privileges, who had to work today, didn't have the money to travel to visit family, or didn't have money for good food.  Most people don't have a family cabin in the woods that can literally and figuratively remove them from their everyday worries and allow them space to gain perspective.

I say all this not as an apology for my privilege, but as an acknowledgment of the responsibility that stems from my place in society.  I have a responsibility to be grateful for what I have and not take it for granted.  I have a responsibility to recognize that my experience is not the only, or even the most common experience.  I have a responsibility to use the privilege I have, the blessings I've inherited and sometimes earned, to create a more equitable future for all people.

So on this Thanksgiving, I want to say that I am very thankful.  I am also ready to turn my gratitude into action that brings forth justice.