“Well, it seems to be a cycle. We were freed, we gained some things. Then we had the area of turmoil with Dr. King and wanting more things. We will gain some things, but then we’ve got the police brutality, the KKK, the all the really rough things that have come again. And this thing is making us realize that we are all in the same boat.” – Dr. Opal Lee, The Mother Of Juneteenth
The other day, I did something different. I went for a run…in the rain…on purpose.
Now, I’m not usually the type to romanticize running in “bad weather.” Sometimes I do it just to test my mettle, but recently I have not been on that type of time. In this instance, it was about testing something I believed in.
I had just bought a hoodie from Actively Black, a brand I’d been watching for a while. They don’t just make clothes, they represent us in my view. I’d seen the work they do outside of apparel, empowering Black communities, amplifying Black voices and putting real meaning behind Black-owned. The hoodie wasn’t cheap like my others ones either. But when it came in the mail, I felt like I got exactly what I paid for. It was top quality.
So I laced up, threw on the hoodie and hit the street for a three-mile run in the pouring rain. The hoodie held up, but something even more powerful happened halfway through.
As I ran, I encountered a young kid, a young African-American boy. I’d guess he was about 12 or 13. He signaled to me. I had my headphones in, so I couldn’t hear what he said. He held up a small sign I couldn’t make out. It was almost like he had yellow writing on white paper. I stopped, pulled my earbuds out to speak to him.
He looked at me smiling innocently and said, “Do you want a water?” Now, I don’t run with money. So I told him I didn’t have anything on me. If I had it, I would have supported. His response?
“It’s all good. Take it anyway.”
That hit me. Hard.
Here I was, out here running in a hoodie made by a Black-owned company that I intentionally supported, and this young Black boy was out here supporting me in this run. Honestly, I’m not certain he was even selling water. He might have been giving them away to people as they walked by.
It stopped me in my tracks and my brain started scrambling inside my skull. That one small moment felt like what Juneteenth is supposed to mean.
It’s not just about honoring our ancestors or marking the day the Black people in Galveston, Texas found out slavery had ended (two-and-a-half years after it was declared illegal). It’s also about how we treat each other and support each other right now. It’s about what we do with our freedom. It’s about creating a culture where we uplift, support and look out for one another.
I told the kid I’d come back after my run and give him some money for his water. Little did he know, I was about to give him some real money. After I finished running, I went straight to the ATM. But when I drove back, he was gone. And I was a little upset about that. I really wanted to bless him for being such a good kid. Not just because he gave me water. This kid gave me hope. Real talk.
Then my mind started spiraling. What if he got scared I was coming back with bad intentions? What if his parents pulled him in? What if I couldn’t even fully trust the water at first? We’re so used to bracing for the worst, having no trust in each other that sometimes we can fall into a cultural spiral.
That exchange was pure. He helped me. I was wearing a hoodie that represented us. And I was out there trying to do better, train harder and level up.
Freedom without unity is hollow and largely superficial.
On this Juneteenth, we have to remember that our power isn’t just in our past. It’s in how we move forward. How we treat each other. How we build each other up, even in the little things. Especially in the little things. Smile. Say “Hi.” Or give water.
Support each other. Trust each other. Look out for one another.
That’s the real celebration.
Epilogue: Much love and respect to Dr. Opal Lee for pushing Juneteenth into being a federal holiday.
