Reflections on Juneteenth
Intent doesn’t override impact
Change starts when we move beyond awareness
By Rosanna Wakley
Knightly News Reporter
What is Juneteenth? Hm.
I didn’t grow up celebrating Juneteenth. In fact, I didn’t even know it existed.
Photo by Gabryelle Breski
Like far too many Americans—especially white Americans—I was raised in a place where history was filtered, edited for comfort.
I grew up in a predominantly white and yes, let’s call it what it was, racist community. It wasn’t debated. It wasn’t challenged. It was just there: quiet, familiar and woven into everyday life. Layered into jokes we were expected to laugh at. Baked into dinner conversations.
I didn’t meet a person of color until eighth grade. And I didn’t understand, until much later, that history came with blind spots, pieces hidden, withheld or reshaped, and that what I was taught had been curated to protect the perspective of those who looked like me.
When I did finally learn about Juneteenth, I was an adult already unlearning years of silent programming, already questioning the “lessons” passed down to me, like the day a family member told my sister and me, so casually but with certainty, “There’s nothing wrong with other races, but it’s better if you don’t mix.”
It was meant to sound open-minded. But it didn’t sit right with me then—and it doesn’t now. That moment didn’t shape my future, but it made me question everything. And it stuck with me. Not as anger, but as a marker of how ignorance often arrives: quietly, politely, wrapped in tradition and delivered with a smile.
Today, my life looks nothing like the worldview I was handed. My family is beautifully diverse, rich in love, culture and connection across color lines. Our love doesn’t come with disclaimers.
Which brings me back to Juneteenth.
What Juneteenth represents
On June 19, 1865—two and a half years after the Emancipation Proclamation—Union troops arrived in Galveston, Texas, and informed the last enslaved Black Americans that they were free.
Slavery had legally ended in 1863. But that freedom was delayed. Strategically. Cruelly. The delay highlights a painful truth: Not everyone has experienced freedom at the same time or in the same way.
Juneteenth—a combination of “June” and “nineteenth”—is more than a date. It’s a symbol of resilience. A day of remembrance. It is also a reflection of pain, perseverance and the long road toward justice that never really ended.
For those of us who grew up unaware of this day, it’s also something else: a mirror, a challenge, a call to action, not center ourselves in it, but to ask: What was I taught to ignore?
What stories never made it into my textbooks?
And what do I want to pass on to the next generation, truth or silence?
Context matters—now more than ever
When Juneteenth became a federal holiday in 2021, it was a long overdue recognition. But in 2025, that recognition feels more complex.
Across the country, conversations around diversity, equity and inclusion are shifting. Some view DEI efforts as essential to building more just communities. Others argue these initiatives have gone too far or that they politicize spaces meant to be neutral.
As a result, some programs have been reduced or removed altogether, from college campuses to government agencies. The motivations vary, but the impacts are being felt. For some, these changes represent a return to “core values.” For others, they represent a loss of support, visibility or acknowledgment.
Regardless of where we stand politically, you must ask: What does it mean to recognize a holiday like Juneteenth, if we’re also pulling back on the efforts that give it meaning? A holiday born out of delay and denial now exists in a country that’s repeating that cycle, where freedom is honored symbolically, yet equity is treated as expendable.
Reflection over reaction
I’m not here to take a side in a debate. I’m not here to speak for experiences I lived. I will not take claim to others’ history or pain. But I believe we can hold space for complex, painful and necessary truth.
Juneteenth invites that kind of reflection: “Freedom delayed is freedom denied.”
It reminds us that freedom isn’t just a moment in history. It’s a promise that hasn’t always been kept. It calls us to notice who still must wait. Who still isn’t heard. Who still doesn’t feel safe or seen.
We will never fully understand the generational weight that this day carries for so many of our neighbors, friends and family members. But we can still honor it. We can still listen. We can still learn.
And perhaps most important, we can choose not to pass down the silence we inherited. These conversations may be uncomfortable, but they are necessary. Most of the time, what looks like hate is really rooted in fear, confusion or simply not knowing what was never taught.
Why it matters to me
So no, I didn’t grow up celebrating Juneteenth. But I am not a reflection of my experience. I’m a reflection of what I choose to carry forward. And what I carry now is awareness. Not certainty. Not perfection. Just a willingness to keep showing up with humility and intention.
Not because I share in the lived Black experience—I don’t.
Not because I understand the depth of the generational trauma that resulted—I can’t.
But because I was never meant to know this story at all. Because I believe we honor this day best by refusing to remain uninformed.
A wise woman once told me, “Intent doesn’t override impact.”
In the family I impact is where I start.
Editor’s note: Central Penn College will be closed on Thursday, June 19, for Juneteenth.
Comment or story idea? Contact [email protected].
Edited by media-club co-adviser and blog editor Professor Michael Lear-Olimpi.
