On Jan. 1, 1863, the Emancipation Proclamation, which was signed by President Abraham Lincoln, became effective. The purpose of the Emancipation Proclamation was to free enslaved people of African descent.
While many enslaved Africans in the Confederate states were declared freed, some were not — especially in Galveston, Texas. They would not learn of their freedom until June 19, 1865, when approximately 2,000 Union soldiers were deployed to deliver the message of freedom. Through the orders of General Gordon Granger, federal soldiers announced to approximately 250,000 enslaved Africans that they were now free. This was the final enforcement of the Emancipation Proclamation and the legal end to slavery. This day is known as Juneteenth and recognized by many as America’s second Independence Day.
The fact that so many Africans were not told of their freedom until two and a half years after others were freed indicated the defiant control of some Confederate states. It also highlighted how slave owners put profit before people.
Hundreds of thousands of people were not told about their freedom, not because of a single point of failure or one selfish person. This situation occurred because of co-conspirators who turned a blind eye and a deaf ear to what was happening around them. Their enslavement continued for more than two years because of coordinated efforts of silence and accomplices in complicity. This colossal humanitarian failure happened because of a collapse in judgment, values, ethics and morals. This happened because there was a breakdown in systems that at their very core were already corrupt or compromised.
There have been other experiences in the United States when African Americans were not informed of life-changing events. While the communication mishaps and weak infrastructure that led to these events were not of malicious intent, many experienced the loss of lives, homes and livelihoods.
In 2005, during Hurricane Katrina, a devastating Category 5 hurricane, there were many forms of communication used to warn residents of the threat, and many of the warnings were shared on cable television and the internet. In communicating a critical message of this magnitude, decision-makers assumed residents had cable or internet access. Yet, the most vulnerable population, primarily African Americans in low-lying areas, did not get the message of Hurricane Katrina’s arrival because they did not have access to cable or could not afford cable or internet access. In some parts of the South, nearly 4 in 10 Black households don’t have internet, part of what’s been called a racial digital divide.
And even when people did know that the storm was bearing down, many could not afford to evacuate. All this contributed to the fact that, as one study found, 62% of the dead and 80% of those stranded on rooftops after the storm were Black.
We are reminded of those in Galveston by those left behind in New Orleans.
More recently, at the start of the COVID-19 pandemic, while Americans sheltered in place, we witnessed another communication blind spot. Some people in urban and rural African American communities were not aware that there was a pandemic spreading across the world — the digital divide at work again. Many African Americans were not aware of the steady stream of alarms and alerts, the precautions and prevention measures to take. They were less likely to know when, where and how to access masks and hand sanitizer.
Again, while there was not intentional exclusion, as in Galveston, the lack of communication resulted in health care disparities and the disproportionate burdens and barriers to which the African American community was subjected.
Today, some African American communities are still overlooked, forgotten, not counted and ignored, like the enslaved people of Galveston who were denied knowledge of their freedom for so long.
The Juneteenth experience was more than a historical tragedy. It was — and is still — an opportunity for us to assess our intentions, our blind spots and our capacity to remember others. In times of foreboding trouble, tumult and turmoil, what will we do to help those who are vulnerable, left out, neglected and unsafe?
Today, Juneteenth is a time for celebration, but it is also a time of reflection and assessment. It is a time to inventory our resources, survey for blind spots and get to know our neighbors. We only need to send a text or add a comment to a social media group to alert others of potential harm. But before sending a text or adding a comment, we must care enough to know our neighbors. They might not need to call on us, but one day we might need to call on them. As we commemorate what happened on June 19 in 1865, let Juneteenth remind us of our obligations to each other.
The Rev. Theresa A. Dear is a national board member of the NAACP and a Deseret News contributor.