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This article was originally published by Newsweek
Each year on June 19, we commemorate Juneteenth, the day in 1865 when Union troops arrived in Galveston, Texas, and announced the end of slavery. Their announcement was directed to people who had remained enslaved more than two years after the Emancipation Proclamation had been issued.
This is a story of freedom delayed but not denied. It is a story of liberation, persistence, and the enduring determination of people who refused to accept bondage as their permanent condition. It is a reminder that we need not embrace that which has been offered as permanent if our spirit yearns – indeed demands - something more.
For many (North) Americans, Juneteenth is a celebration. For others, it is a solemn reminder of the distance we continue to bridge between our aspirations and our reality. In truth, our existence, has always been both.
Black people have never had the luxury of choosing between celebration and resistance. We have always done both. We have celebrated every hard-won advance while continuing to struggle against every force that sought to reverse, diminish, or deny our humanity. We have found ways to rejoice in advance, anticipating the victory, taking our charge from the familiar gospel refrain written by Walter Hawkins: "Don't wait 'til the battle is over, shout now—you know in the end you're gonna win."
We have learned to celebrate possibility even while confronting adversity, to grieve and dream, to survive and build. That is why I believe Juneteenth invites us to do more than remember. It invites us to imagine.
Not imagination as fantasy. Not imagination as escapism.
Imagination as a practice of emancipation.
The Brazilian theologian and educator Rubem Alves wrote in 1972, "In the long run, control of the imagination is much more effective than the use of violence."
His words reveal a profound truth. Every system of oppression attempts to narrow the imagination. It seeks to convince people that the world as it is, must remain as it is. It teaches limits before possibilities. It conditions resignation before action.
Liberation works in the opposite direction.
Long before freedom is written into law, it must be imagined. Long before institutions change, someone must envision a different future. Long before people organize, vote, march, litigate, build, or govern, they must first believe another reality is possible.
Our ancestors understood and modeled this well. But how are we faring in this regard?
It’s understandable to question the path forward and to question if the ‘Lord will make a way somehow.’ However, this sentiment is the start of transformation not the end result. We must remember that pause and possibility can coexist. Power and possibility are available.
To do this, it is appropriate, in this moment of remembrance and celebration to recount the example of those who came before us. Even in their darkest hour, our ancestors – foot soldiers in the fight for liberation – mentally mapped strategies to secure their, and our, liberation.
There are documented stories of formerly enslaved people courageously and creatively setting the course of history. Some used their imagination to navigate the Underground Railroad. Others clandestinely communicated with one another, in song, word and deed. All forged bonds of love and care, when something entirely different was modeled. Chasing worlds yet to manifest, they imagined possibilities that are our realities today.
This legacy of possibility has been passed down from generation to generation. In fact,
every major protest movement in the United States began with imagining that which was different from what was offered. The question before us, is whether we have the capacity to see that which hasn’t unfolded.
Indeed, Juneteenth is a perfect opportunity to consider the areas in which freedom abounds and the spaces where it appears to be contracting. I know mass media will promulgate messages that inspire fear. But this is a moment to abandon fear, reject prevailing narratives and imagine.
I submit to you that in addition to marking your plans to indulge in foods colored red, green and black (the hue of Juneteenth), that you also grab friends and family, and dream with intention. Don’t ask whether your goal is possible; ask what it would take to make it possible.
We are invited, indeed compelled to imagine, and then create something new. If we practice communal imagination, we can respond versus react. If we creatively imagine, we will fuel future generations to do the same. Isn’t that what this is all about?
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