Holding Space for Grief on Juneteenth: Honoring the Weight of History Together
Celebrating and Grieving
Each year, Juneteenth offers an opportunity to celebrate a critical milestone in U.S. history: the day in 1865 when the last enslaved African Americans were informed of their freedom—more than two years after the Emancipation Proclamation.
Juneteenth is a day of celebration, resilience, and cultural pride. But for many, it also carries a quieter, deeper emotional truth: grief.
Because while Juneteenth marks the end of legalized slavery, it also reminds us of what was lost, and of how long justice was delayed.
Naming the Grief Beneath the Celebration
For Black Americans, Juneteenth can stir a complex blend of emotions: joy, sorrow, pride, fatigue, anger, and reverence. These feelings are not contradictory. They are layered truths.
Grief may arise from the generations of lives stolen, families separated, cultures erased, and futures denied. It may show up as a sense of exhaustion, numbness, or solemnity even in the midst of celebration. This grief is not weakness; it is witness. It is a sacred honoring of what was endured.
For non-Black individuals, Juneteenth is not yours to grieve in the same way. But it is yours to acknowledge. If you find yourself moved by the history, troubled by its lasting impacts, or unsure how to show up meaningfully, you're not alone.
For Those Who Are Not Black: How to Honor the Grief Without Appropriation
Grief is deeply personal, but it can also be collective, especially when it stems from systemic injustice. If you are not Black, you can still hold space for this day with empathy and humility. Here’s how:
Acknowledge the reality of what Juneteenth represents. It's not just a celebration of freedom; it's a reminder that freedom was delayed—intentionally—for two and a half years after it was legally granted. Sit with what that means.
Practice respectful presence. This might mean attending a Juneteenth event as a listener, not a leader. Let the stories and traditions unfold without inserting yourself into the center.
Learn from voices within the Black community. Read their words, share their work, and engage with the history from those who carry it most directly.
Be mindful of language and symbolism. Juneteenth is not a themed party or a marketing opportunity. It's a day of reflection, reverence, and recognition.
Take responsibility for ongoing justice. Honor Juneteenth by taking real action, advocating for equity, listening with compassion, and interrupting racism wherever it shows up, including within yourself.
Collective Mourning, Collective Responsibility
Juneteenth is a moment to recognize both the progress and the pain in our nation’s story. For Black communities, it is a day of complex emotions, and of celebration intertwined with memory and mourning. For others, it is a day to stand beside that truth in humility and care.
No matter your background, grief invites us all to slow down and listen more deeply. To hold space not just for what was overcome, but for what should never have happened. And in that space, there is room for growth, connection, and real healing.
Ways to Hold Space This Juneteenth
Whether you're grieving personally or bearing witness to others’ grief, here are a few meaningful ways to honor the day:
Light a candle or hold a moment of silence to remember the generations lost to slavery.
Journal or reflect on your own relationship to racial justice, identity, and history.
Attend an educational or community event in a supportive, respectful role.
Support Black-owned businesses, artists, authors, and organizations.
Talk with your children, peers, or colleagues about the meaning of Juneteenth—and the importance of continued progress.
The Power of Grief to Transform
Grief is not something we “get over.” It’s something we learn to carry. With dignity, awareness, and community. On Juneteenth, grief becomes an act of reverence. It is the stillness beneath the music, the truth beneath the joy.
And in honoring it, we don’t diminish the celebration. We give it roots.
Let us grieve. Let us learn. Let us stand together. Not in appropriation, but in accountability, empathy, and hope.