On the original Juneteenth – June 19, 1865 – Union General Gordon Granger arrived at Galveston, Texas, and read out General Order No. 3 to a group of African Americans. The order reported the news of the two-year-old Emancipation Proclamation, and officially set free all enslaved people in Texas. It is the United States’ newest national holiday – one with a complicated history and heritage, as Annette Gordon-Reed makes clear in her book On Juneteenth.
Gordon-Reed, a professor of history at Rutgers University, has been one of the most celebrated scholars of Southern U.S. culture since at least 1997, when her book Thomas Jefferson and Sally Hemings: An American Controversy was published. One year before the publication of the scientific study that indicated that Thomas Jefferson and Sally Hemings had children together, Gordon-Reed offered a brilliant exposé of the limitations in the thinking of those who might try to claim that it was somehow “impossible” for Jefferson to have had an intimate relationship with an enslaved woman. Her subsequent work, such as The Hemingses of Monticello: An American Family (2008), shows how much more the discipline of history can teach us when historians set out to tell the whole story, inclusively rather than selectively.
Gordon-Reed grew up in Conroe, Texas, during segregation times, and therefore she is particularly well-suited to discuss the intricacies and contradictions of life in the state where the first Juneteenth took place. She points out that
No other state brings together so many disparate and defining characteristics all in one – a state that shares a border with a foreign nation, a state with a long history of disputes between Europeans and an indigenous population and between Anglo-Europeans and people of Spanish origin, a state that had existed as an independent nation, that had plantation-based slavery and legalized Jim Crow. (p. 27)
As she once sought to clear away the layers of accumulated myth that had gathered around the life of Thomas Jefferson, so Gordon-Reed wants in this book to draw the reader’s attention to uncomfortable truths about Texas’s history.
In spite of the way many Americans in Texas and throughout the Union might want to focus on the Alamo as a tragic tableau at the heart of a fight for liberty, Gordon-Reed writes that “There is no way to get around the fact that, whatever legitimate federalism-based issues were at play, slavery was a central reason Anglo-Texans wanted out of Mexico” (p. 25). She adds further that for Texas’s original white settlers, “The choice for slavery was deliberate, and that reality is hard to square with a desire to present a pristine and heroic origin story about the settlement of Texas. There is no way to do that without suggesting that the lives of African Americans, and their descendants in Texas, did not, and do not, matter” (p. 27).
Gordon-Reed’s purpose in questioning these traditional myths of Texas history is creative, not destructive: “As painful as it may be, recognizing – though not dwelling on – tragedy and the role it plays in our individual lives, and in the life of a state or nation, is, I think, a sign of maturity” (p. 29).
Later in On Juneteenth, Gordon-Reed evokes William Faulkner’s famous statement, in his 1951 novel Requiem for a Nun, that “the past is never dead. It’s not even past”, and then challenges Faulkner’s statement in terms of her own family’s history in Texas: “I believe the Nobel laureate was wrong about that. The past is dead. But, like other formerly living things, echoes of the past remain, leaving their traces in the people and events of the present and future” (p. 32). As always in her work, the focus is on what history can teach us, if we set out to understand the whole story.
Toward that end, Gordon-Reed tells the story of her experiences as the first African American student at formerly all-white Anderson Elementary School in Conroe. Her great-great-aunt from Houston “bought boxes and boxes of dresses, tights, blouses, skirts, and hats from the most upscale department store in the city at the time, Sakowitz”. Gordon-Reed speculates on what her great-great-aunt must have experienced in the “racially repressive and violent society Texas was at the end of the nineteenth century”, and reflects that “Making sure I was dressed to the nines was her contribution to the civil rights movement” (p. 39).
Gordon-Reed also offers thoughtful reflections on the hostility that she felt from some whites, such as a Conroe store owner: “Empowered Black people made the intangible benefits derived from Whiteness less valuable”; for a long time, after all, an unjust social structure had invited any white man to feel as if he was automatically “superior” to any black man. Gordon-Reed adds in that regard that “Patriarchy, which is not only about the subjugation of women but about competition between males, is so central to this story” (p. 45).
Memories of childhood trips to the Six Flags Over Texas amusement park in the Dallas/Fort Worth suburb of Arlington bring up the difficulties and contradictions of Texan – and, by implication, American – identity. Gordon-Reed’s recollection of one particular field trip, when a classmate fell into a pool of water and was rescued by a park employee dressed as a Native American, becomes an occasion for meditating on how, “even at the young age, I had gotten the message that Indians were part of the past….Whatever quaint depiction of Texas this young man was dressed to be a part of, it reinforced the idea of current absence” (p. 78).
That sense of absence was reinforced, for Gordon-Reed, by a childhood viewing of the John Wayne film The Alamo (1960), on the film’s 1967 re-release. While a friend wept over the scene where all of the Texans defending the Alamo willingly step over a line drawn in the sand by Colonel Travis as an indicator of their willingness to die in the Alamo’s defense, Gordon-Reed “recalled being slightly embarrassed by the character who was Jim Bowie’s slave”, for reasons that she subsequently sets forth in greater detail:
I knew by then to flinch, or slightly hold my breath even, whenever Black actors appeared in movies, especially old films. I never knew what was going to happen, but I knew what could happen. Would the Black character be good for Black people, or bad for Black people? I had a strong sense that such things could never just be about that one actor’s characterization. There were so few representations of Blacks in films in those days that every appearance counted. (p. 102)
Toward the end of On Juneteenth, Gordon-Reed returns to General Granger’s Juneteenth proclamation at Galveston in 1865, writing about how African Americans responded: “The idea that the society that oppressed them might be transformed into one based upon equality influenced Black Texans in much the same way that the Declaration of Independence influenced Blacks in the early American Republic” (p. 127). That sense of potential in the midst of trouble is characteristic of this thoughtful and thought-provoking book.