On June 19, 1865, two and a half years after the Emancipation Proclamation was signed, Union General Gordon Granger arrived in Galveston, Texas, and read aloud General Order No. 3. The message was simple but powerful: The Civil War ended, and all enslaved people in Texas were now free. For the estimated 250,000 Black people still held in bondage across the state, it was a turning point — not because they hadn’t heard rumors of freedom, but because, this time, it was enforced by armed federal troops.
That day would come to be known as Juneteenth. And while many now treat it as a celebration of Black freedom, the holiday’s roots are tied just as deeply to delay, resistance, and the fight to make liberation real.
The Emancipation Proclamation didn’t free everyone
When President Abraham Lincoln issued the Emancipation Proclamation on January 1, 1863, it declared enslaved people in Confederate states to be legally free. But the proclamation only applied to areas under Confederate control, and without Union troops on the ground, it had no real power in places like Texas.
Texas was geographically isolated and saw little fighting during the Civil War. As a result, it became a haven for enslavers who relocated westward to avoid Union armies and hold onto their labor force. Thousands of enslaved people were forcibly moved to Texas during the war, creating a concentration of Black labor that remained untouched by emancipation until after the Confederacy’s collapse.
By the time Granger arrived in Galveston, the Civil War was over, and Lincoln had been assassinated. His reading of General Order No. 3 on June 19 made emancipation official in Texas, but even that moment was layered with contradiction. The order informed enslaved people they were free but also told them to remain where they were and work for wages. Freedom had arrived, but Black autonomy was still being controlled.
While General Order No. 3 announced that “all slaves are free,” it also included a stark clause instructing freed people to remain “at their present homes” and “work for wages.” In essence, it discouraged movement and reinforced the plantation system under a new name. That contradiction — freedom offered with limits — foreshadowed the struggle Black Americans would face for generations: Being technically free, but never fully free.
Freedom was claimed, not just given
The reaction to General Order No. 3 varied. Some enslaved people left plantations immediately, celebrating in the streets. Others were kept in the dark by their enslavers or forced to keep working through the end of harvest season. Some faced violent retaliation for trying to leave.
In some parts of Texas, former enslavers delayed announcing the news until after one final cotton harvest. Others refused to comply at all. Freedmen’s Bureau reports and oral histories, such as those collected in the Texas Slave Narratives, document cases where Black people were beaten or killed for asserting their freedom in the days and weeks following Juneteenth.
While Juneteenth signaled the beginning of a new chapter in Texas, legal slavery in the United States didn’t officially end until December 6, 1865, when the 13th Amendment was ratified. That amendment abolished slavery and involuntary servitude “except as punishment for crime” — language that would later justify convict leasing and mass incarceration. For many, the transition from slavery to freedom was neither immediate nor safe.
And yet, newly freed Texans began to build lives out of the chaos. They founded churches, established schools and created their own communities. In 1872, a group of Black ministers in Houston pooled their money to buy land specifically for Juneteenth celebrations. That land became Emancipation Park, one of the first in Texas purchased and owned by Black people.
Juneteenth traditions took root in Texas
While other states had their own emancipation days based on when Union troops arrived (for example, D.C. celebrates April 16 and Florida celebrates May 20), Texas is the birthplace of Juneteenth. It was in Texas where the holiday first took hold, with food, prayer, song and storytelling becoming the cornerstones of the tradition.
Early celebrations included readings of the Emancipation Proclamation, parades and dress-up days to reclaim dignity denied under slavery. Barbecue pits, gospel music and horse-riding contests (sometimes called “Juneteenth rodeos”) became key features. Even during Jim Crow, when public gatherings were often dangerous, Black Texans kept Juneteenth alive in churches and rural gatherings.
The holiday spread beyond the state thanks to the Great Migration. As Black Texans moved to cities like Los Angeles, Oakland and Chicago, they brought Juneteenth with them. But outside of Texas, it remained largely informal for decades.
The fight to make Juneteenth official
In 1980, Texas became the first state to make Juneteenth an official holiday, thanks to the work of State Representative Al Edwards. But it would take over 40 years for the rest of the country to follow.
One of the loudest voices in that movement was Opal Lee, a retired teacher and activist from Fort Worth. In 2016, at 89 years old, she began walking from her hometown to Washington, D.C., in hopes of securing federal recognition. Renewed knowledge of her journey gained momentum alongside the racial justice uprisings of 2020, sparked by the murder of George Floyd. That year, companies began recognizing Juneteenth, and more states passed legislation to honor it.
On June 17, 2021, President Joe Biden signed the Juneteenth National Independence Day Act, making it a federal holiday. Lee was present at the signing.
Juneteenth is more than a celebration
Today, Juneteenth is marked by festivals, concerts, cookouts, teach-ins and calls for justice. But its power lies not just in celebration, but in remembrance. It asks Americans to confront how long freedom was delayed and how often it still is.
For Black communities, Juneteenth is a moment of reflection as much as it is joy. It honors the resilience of those who waited, resisted and built a future after bondage. It reminds us that emancipation isn’t a one-time act — it’s a long, unfinished struggle for true liberation.
As the holiday and its origins gain visibility in pop culture, corporate marketing and government calendars, there’s also a responsibility to protect its roots. The risk of commercialization is real. When Juneteenth becomes another branded t-shirt or social media hashtag, its radical history can get lost. Honoring Juneteenth means telling the truth about what was denied, what was taken and what still hasn’t been repaired.