My Fake Reality

Since it’s Juneteenth, and close to Father’s day. (And my father is dead, and so is my computer) I will put this here.

In honor of Juneteenth,

I have been seeing a lot of people outside of Texas celebrating the Juneteenth holiday. I love this for you, but let’s understand this…

I grew up in a very culturally accepting home. Since this is about my dad we will just focus on him.

My grandfather, Barto, was a truck driver and died when my father was eight years old. After he passed away he spent more time at his grandmother’s house on a plantation in Hugo, Oklahoma.

When someone reads “his grandmother’s house on a plantation”, you would assume that it would be the plantation owner due to the color of my skin. However, this was not the case, part of my ancestry were slaves. All freedman in the end.

My father, his mother and his brothers sat at the feet of actual slaves and listened to their stories. My father told me those stories.

As part of MY culture from Texas, I have been celebrating Juneteenth before I even knew it was about slavery. I celebrated with communities. Cookouts, BBQs, small get togethers…. Not ONE person sat me down, looked me in my face and told me that I didn’t have the right to celebrate.

I have sat down at the foot of many different slaves and their children. I have listened, heard and felt their stories. I wish this generation had the opportunity to do the same. You would have a lot more respect for yourself and others, and that’s just the downright truth.

The stories are all out there, you just have to find them. If you do anything to celebrate today, go read a slave’s testimony, go to a museum, or watch a documentary and really learn what it is to actually celebrate Juneteenth.

Happy Juneteenth!