The Black History Month party that made me remember the fine art of silence
The Black History Month party that made me remember the fine art of silence
Trump adds Juneteenth to his horrendous campaigning
A co-worker of mine and I decided we would organize a Black History party. We’d quietly observed the company celebrating birthdays and St. Patrick’s Day and the Fourth of July in prior years. Considering I celebrate Juneteenth instead of the 4th of July — and have been doing so for years — I always wanted to do something for either the 29-day month or the day that the Union soldiers (led by Major General Gordon Granger) arrived in Galveston, Texas to confirm that the Civil War had ended and slaves were free. (Former President Abraham Lincoln’s Emancipation Proclamation of January 1, 1863 was not executed in many regions due to the small amount of Union Troops to enforce it.)
But our company had been bought out by another publishing company, and we all had to leave by April. That made June 19 (Juneteenth) out of the question, so we chose a day in February instead. I remember all the decorations in a conference room, the massive amount of food, the Black History T-shirts pinned to the wall and lots of emails about what to bring. Unfortunately, what I also remember was going into the kitchen to grab something from the fridge. A blonde, white lady walked by me and stopped to talk to her white male co-worker. She asked him, “Are you coming to the party today?” He responded, “I don’t celebrate that.” She laughed and said, “Me either, but the food is gonna be good.” I whipped my head around.
Before I could respond, another co-worker (white, male and the epitome of an ally) started talking over him to me. While I was trying to read the mouth of the non-celebrator telling his friend what his issue was, my motormouth ally not only stood his entire 6'2-body in my way but kept on talking.