As the American government undergoes significant changes, we risk undoing the hard work and dedication that many Americans have invested in honoring our history. Although textbooks proclaim that slavery ended with the Emancipation Proclamation on January 1, 1863, freedom wasn’t realized for everyone until June 19, 1865—over two years later. That day gave birth to what we now know as Juneteenth.
On June 17, 2021, President Biden signed legislation making Juneteenth National Independence Day a federal holiday. But just a few years later, recent developments raise concerns that progress toward racial equity may be unraveling. Despite its federal status, Juneteenth—along with other vital cultural observances—has come under threat.
Recently, social media has erupted in response to reports that the Defense Intelligence Agency ordered a pause on all events related to Black History Month, Martin Luther King Jr. Day, LGBTQ+ Pride Month, Holocaust Remembrance Day, and Juneteenth. How can this be seen as progress when we have barely scratched the surface of dismantling the ignorance that still runs rampant in this country? These decisions impact not only the Black community, but every group working to honor cultures and communities shaped by struggle, resistance, and resilience.
It raises a deeper, more urgent question: what will future generations inherit in light of these restrictions?
According to YouGov, awareness of Juneteenth has increased since 2022—but can that momentum survive? Could new policy rollbacks undo decades of work to educate, celebrate, and advocate for our ancestors?
The silencing of these observances is more than a calendar change—it’s an erasure. And when these efforts are sidelined, so are the stories of people who’ve fought for visibility across gender, race, and identity. Many remember former President Trump’s 2020 executive order attempting to limit diversity, equity, and inclusion (DEI) initiatives. That mindset is now echoing again—seen in the cancellation of DEI programs, boards, and policies across the federal government. And it leaves us wondering: will these decisions challenge inequality in the workplace, or will they deepen it?
Before Juneteenth became widely recognized, most Americans didn’t know it existed. A YouGov report revealed that 75% of those who’d heard of it had never celebrated, and Gallup News found that more than one-third knew little to nothing about its meaning. Now that it is recognized, we have to ask: will Juneteenth be remembered a decade from now—or slowly pushed aside under the weight of silence and red tape?
The 2020 murder of George Floyd reopened deep wounds for Black Americans and redefined what “freedom” really means. It sparked a collective call for justice and amplified conversations around race, policing, and equity that many had tried to ignore. That same urgency pushed Juneteenth to the forefront—and now, it’s at risk again.
While making Juneteenth a federal holiday was a symbolic step forward, for many, it felt hollow. America appeared more interested in marketing the holiday than meaningfully supporting the Black community. A report from YouGov revealed that 37% of Black consumers believe brands celebrating Juneteenth don’t actually care about the holiday—they just want to be seen. That performative pattern is all too familiar: visibility without investment, profit without purpose.
Still, some strides have been made. The U.S. Treasury Department increased federal contracts to Black-owned businesses by 60% in the last two years. Gen Z and Millennial organizers have continued pushing forward, preserving the heart of Juneteenth through education, advocacy, and creative activism. But even these wins feel fragile. Will these efforts be erased by the government’s shifting agenda? Will the next generation be forced to fight for recognition all over again?
We can’t afford to lose momentum. Now more than ever, we need to challenge the status quo by uplifting Black-owned and minority-owned businesses, preserving our cultural traditions, and amplifying the voices of those pushing for true equality.
Even Dr. Opal Lee—the “Grandmother of Juneteenth”—has voiced concern. She’s publicly requested a meeting with President Trump to discuss the future of this holiday and the impact of these policies. “What is his reason?” she asked. “I just need to know why and see if I can’t talk him into understanding how much this means to us.” Her granddaughter, Dione Sims, echoed her resolve: “We are going to have to work to keep the status quo just to stay where we are and get out our oars and row against the current, against the tide.”
And that’s exactly what we must do.
In the face of uncertainty, we hold tight to community. We remember that Juneteenth was never just a date on a calendar—it’s a living legacy. We preserve it by collecting stories from our elders, by honoring our ancestors, and by teaching future generations the truth about where we come from and what we’re still fighting for.
Black History and Juneteenth are not canceled. They are necessary, they are alive, and they are reaffirmed.