Every June 19th, I pause. Not just to celebrate, but to remember. To reflect.
Because Juneteenth isn’t just a historic milestone, it’s personal. As a Black woman and a solo mom, it’s a moment that reminds me how far we’ve come, how far we’ve yet to go, and why I keep showing up for my child and myself.
Juneteenth is freedom. But it’s also a reminder of the fight to claim it.
We weren’t just handed freedom—we were denied it for years, even after it was declared. And mirrors so much of what it feels like to walk through life as a Black woman raising a child on my own. You learn to push forward even when systems weren’t designed with you in mind.
As a solo mom, I carry that legacy.
Of resistance. Of survival. Of grace under pressure.
And on Juneteenth, I make sure my son sees that.
I make sure I see that.
Because it’s easy to get lost in the routine: wake up, hustle, nurture, protect, repeat. But this day reminds me to look up. To say: “We made it. We’re making it. And we are worthy of celebration.”
Here’s how I honor Juneteenth in my home:
We talk. Even though my child is young, I plant seeds. We talk about why this day exists, and why it’s different from the Fourth of July.
We celebrate Black joy. That means music, art, books, food, laughter. Joy is resistance too.
We reflect. On the ancestors. On the progress. On our power. And on God’s grace and mercy.
Juneteenth is a day to reclaim what was stolen, honor what we’ve built, and pour love into ourselves and our babies as a form of protest and pride.
To my fellow Black solo moms: I see you. You are the embodiment of strength, softness, and freedom. Your very existence is powerful.
So this Juneteenth, let’s not just acknowledge the day. Let’s live it. Honor it. And pass it down, with love and pride.