Juneteenth? Meh.

Juneteenth is finally recognized as a national holiday and I feel meh. I should be thrilled—the first new and BLACK holiday since Martin Luther King Day. However, somehow nationally recognizing it takes away some of its specialness for me. It was small intimate affairs that when you told your white friends what you were doing and why, frankly, it confused them. Now, Walmart Juneteenth Ice Cream? The holiday’s speed to commodification is staggering. In ten years, will white people wear dashikis like they wear sombreros for Cinco De Mayo? I think so because they still won’t know the reason for either holiday, but use it as a reason to have a cookout and get shitcanned drunk.

On the other hand, recognition for this important moments in American history is crucial to reminding America that American history can also be Black history. I say “can also be” because Black history extends to the entire diaspora. Funny, this is the first year that I didn’t attend a single party, festival, or soiree. I feel bad about that, but I think I need this one to pass so I can rethink how I want to celebrate my ancestors for Juneteenth.

Maybe next year. For now, I’ll honor them daily as I always have. Still, I see the Atlanta “Juneteenth” episode in our future though, and I get chills in 90+ weather.