Honoring Freedom
Since 2020, the Fourth of July hasn’t been ringing true in my heart. It began in June of that year, when a conversation about race blazed throughout the country. I was suddenly hit with the realization that I’d spent my entire life trying to conform to a standard of whiteness that I could never reach. This quality had been passed down from my ancestors, who made this decision for their own survival. In one moment, I finally understood that assimilation was no longer required of me. For generations, my ancestors advocated for my right to freedom. In 2020, I was inspired to allow my authentic self to shine through and live the life of freedom I deserve.
Like many Americans, I honored Juneteenth for the first time in 2020. Unlike many Americans, I’d always known the “holiday” existed. But I wasn’t exactly sure of how to honor it. Growing up in Chicago, black churches hosted picnics and celebrations. I never attended those churches, so I didn’t feel welcome there. I’d always lived and gone to school in white neighborhoods, where Juneteenth was NEVER acknowledged. So I just lived with this silent knowing in my heart. Every year, I wondered what I should do, if anything, to honor the day commemorating the freedom of my ancestors.
It was only fitting that the following year, I served as a featured speaker for a virtual conference called, “Honoring Freedom”. My talk title was “Juneteenth Hits Different” and I spoke of how I’d been recently inspired by this holiday. Over the course of the year, my decision to embrace my authenticity led to the end of my marriage. I gave this talk weeks before I was set to leave Los Angeles for an unexpected adventure to Oklahoma City (OKC).
Regardless of my ancestor’s fight for my freedom, my family was less than enthusiastic about my life changes. Moving to OKC after I felt my intuition tell me to “blow up my life and move there” did not sit well with them. They all adored my ex-wife and were concerned about her absence in our family. I felt like they were more concerned about my ex-wife than my imploding life. They all swore they weren’t taking sides. But to me, it felt like they were taking hers.
It doesn’t help that a few years earlier, I made a joke that if my ex and I ever split up, my family wouldn’t let her go. When no one laughed, I was unnerved. But at that time, I felt no real concern that our marriage wouldn’t last. No one saw our divorce coming, including us. My call to adventure in OKC led me straight to Elle, a woman who I believe is my soulmate. Needless to say, my family wasn’t happy about this either. Now it’s 2023 and Elle and I have been married for nine months. We’re experiencing our own happily ever after in OKC, while my relationship with my family in Chicago is still healing. For the last month, I’ve been working remotely at the Centers for Spiritual Living. When I learned that we’d have Juneteenth off, I decided to cash in some miles and head to Chicago.
I didn’t intentionally book this trip for a healing experience. I hosted a conversation about reparations the day before Juneteenth and wondered if that was enough of a celebration of honoring my ancestors and freedom. Thankfully, mom was more proactive. She texted me, suggesting I do some research on Juneteenth events in Chicago. I’m 42 years old and this was the first time we’d ever had that conversation.
I started the morning of Juneteenth with a run, prayer in the shower, a healthy breakfast, a latte, and finishing Jacqueline Woodson’s book, “Red at the Bone”. It’s a beautifully-written, celebratory story about a black family honoring their freedom and healing generational trauma. While waiting for 3pm for our festivities to begin, I took a walk and laid in the grass in the park. It reminded me of the times I worked as an admissions counselor at Columbia College Chicago, taking my lunch breaks in the grass of Millennium Park. I would fantasize about working in Hollywood, naive to the shark tank culture of the industry. I was young, optimistic, and dreamed of using television as a medium to make positive change in the world.
In the 10 years I lived in Los Angeles, I barely made a dent towards making the world a better place. Mainstream Hollywood may be toxic AF, but Black Hollywood is magic. It’s Viola Davis, Oprah Winfrey, Jordan Peele, Tyler Perry, Queen Latifah, Kerry Washington and Byron Allen. They are incredible people who have defied the odds, overcome the highest obstacles, and STILL look fabulous on the red carpet. They work within the system that’s not designed for their success or the content they are attempting to broadcast. And still they persevere. And still they rise.
In my time as a TV Creative Executive at JuVee Productions, the seed was planted that I was worthy of freedom. In “Braving the Wilderness” by Brené Brown, she cites Viola Davis’s four personal rules:
I’m doing the best I can.
I will allow myself to be seen.
Go further. Don’t be afraid. Put it all out there. Don’t leave anything on the floor.
My daughter will know me and I will share my stories of failure, shame, and accomplishment. She will know she’s not alone in that wilderness.
At JuVee, Viola taught me these lessons with her actions. Though I am not her daughter, she openly shared stories of failure, shame and accomplishment in every meeting I had the pleasure of attending with her. Viola is outchea doing big things, so she doesn’t have time to run the ins and outs of a production company. She trusts her husband, Julius Tennon, to serve as an extension of her voice. Brené Brown quotes Viola saying this about Julius: “I got married to an amazing man who really saw me. He was my gift for working so hard on myself. He was kind and I was finally vulnerable and open to that.”
It should come as no surprise that working at a company run by this power couple was a HEALING experience. Their support, strength, and courage inspired me to follow my heart and move on from that job. I am still moved by their example to do all I can to help make this world a kinder and loving place. Working with them also helped shine a light on all of my unhealed, internalized racism.
Since I left JuVee, I’ve done a lot of healing work. The “New Thoughts On…Reparations” virtual event that I hosted the day before Juneteenth is an example of how I’ve put what I’ve learned into practice. Even though I’m mixed race and my mother was black, we never had a conversation about race until 2020. A nationwide explosive conversation about race inspired us to do our healing work together. We even shared one of these conversations publicly at a Spirit Uncensored “Sunday Night Live” virtual event. In 2021, we co-hosted a book study on “The Mis-Education of the Negro” by Carter G. Woodson through the Ahiah Center for Spiritual Living.
Now, my mother and I were celebrating our first Juneteenth together. Our first event was a festival in Promontory Point. My mother had never been to this nationally historic landmark beach on Chicago’s south side, down the street from Hyde Park where the Obama family occasionally resides. The normally dazzling skyline was hidden behind clouds, but Lake Michigan glimmered a turquoise blue that almost looked tropical. Almost. On our walk along the lakefront path, my mother revealed that she hadn’t said, “Happy Juneteenth” to anyone.
She wondered aloud if it was even appropriate to wish someone a happy Juneteenth. The universe responded quickly as a black woman walking in the other direction. “Happy Juneteenth!” the stranger cheered. We greeted her back. Somehow, my mother and I never found that Juneteenth festival. We gave up, hitting my favorite downtown restaurant, The Gage, for a cheese plate and cocktails.
After a lovely snack from The Gage, my mother and I floated off to a Juneteenth sound bath meditation nearby. She had no idea what a sound bath meditation was, but was open to getting us the tickets and finding out. As a New Thought minister, I had a wonderful time. She didn’t like laying on the floor and has no interest in ever going to another sound bath again.
It didn’t matter what Juneteenth events we attended. We were given the gift of time together on a PERFECT summer day. Chicagoans know just what a treat that is. We hadn’t excluded our spouses from joining us. There was no plan to someday honor Juneteenth together. We simply enjoyed a beautiful, healing day together on a day off of work.
My trip to Chicago ended on the summer solstice. That day, my mother and I had lunch with my aunt and uncle at Pearl’s, a soul food restaurant on Chicago’s south side. Pearl’s is down the street from the Indiana Avenue Pentecostal Church of God, the church where my grandmother served as a central figure when she was alive. Even though her time came to an end about 40 years ago, people still talk about her every time I step into the family church. We met my aunt for lunch after her bible study group. She has been the music director there since she was 16 years old.
The food at Pearl’s was incredible. The walls were adorned with images of black music legends, like Billie Holiday, Lena Horne and Louis Armstrong. Someone at the table next to us was celebrating a birthday. The servers ran in, bumping music and singing Stevie Wonder’s version of “Happy Birthday”. The ENTIRE restaurant sang along. Then they played some other version of a birthday song that my mom and I didn’t recognize. It’s clear that neither of us spend a lot of time in places like Pearl’s. We had a pleasant lunch filled with smiles and laughter.
I now realize that I never need to be concerned about the best way to honor Juneteenth. It’s a spiritual holiday. When I choose to stay present and allow myself to be divinely guided, I am healing and renewing my soul. This is exactly how my ancestors would have wanted me to celebrate. Feeling free, spiritually-fed, HEALED, and connected with my roots. Maybe I should plan to go back to Chicago to celebrate with my family next year.
As for the Fourth of July, I see this day as an opportunity to honor my own freedom. I arrived in Oklahoma City on that date in 2021. I stood on the porch of my AirBNB watching families on all three corners of the street popping fireworks. I had no clue what brought me to Oklahoma or what I would do next. At that moment, I realized that this was my day of independence.
