By Barrett Holman Leak in San Diego
The concept of time in Jewish tradition is elastic. When we sit at the Pesach Seder, we do not merely look back at history; we declare B’chol dor vador—in every generation, each person must see themselves as if they personally went forth from Egypt. Today, Friday, June 19, 2026, our nation pauses to observe Juneteenth, a celebration that demands a similar, radical leap of historical empathy and present-day commitment.
Officially recognized as a federal and California state holiday, Juneteenth commemorates June 19, 1865. On that day—more than two years after the Emancipation Proclamation was signed—Union General Gordon Granger arrived in Galveston, Texas, to deliver General Order No. 3, declaring that “all slaves are free” and establishing a status of “absolute equality of personal rights.”
Across California and right here in San Diego, the weekend is alive with this history. From the Cooper Family Foundation’s legacy celebration at Memorial Community Park (56 years!) to the vibrant sounds of Afrobeats and R&B at Waterfront Park’s Kinfolk Fest, the community is gathering to elevate Black joy, art, and culture.
I will be at the Juneteenth Freedom Festival in Memorial Park as usual on Saturday June 20, hosting the Playing Together Project Jewish solidarity tent. Every Juneteenth, we share to the thousands of attendees about Jews of Color, the history of the African American/ American Jewish Civil Rights Alliance and where we are heading. I also hand out flyers for various organizations in Jewish Federation of San Diego and this year some in Los Angeles, like Challah and Soul. I have even compiled a cookbook of Afro-Jewish recipes to hand out. Come visit us and if you like, you can help staff the tent. If you come – wear WHITE!
For Afro/Black Jews like me, this intersection is not a meeting of two separate worlds. It is the lived reality of a single, unified soul. The journey from the narrow straits of Mitzrayim (Egypt) to the shores of Galveston forms a singular tapestry of resilience. To be a person of African heritage and a Jewess is to hold a deep, ancestral understanding of what it means to be pulled from the depths, to celebrate a hard-won liberty, and to remain fiercely determined to stay free.
The pride of this identity—carried in the skin, inherited from kings and weavers, and anchored in an eternal covenant—is a beautiful, radical testament to survival.
Masterpiece of the Diaspora
I am the daughter of a vast and sweeping line,
A tapestry woven by a Hand Divine.
Look upon my skin, this rich and radiant hue,
The shelter where the ancient meets the new.
I am a Jewess, fierce and full of light,
Walking in the joy of my Creator’s sight.
My blood sings with the rhythms of the earth,
Ghana’s golden shores gave my spirit birth.
The Igbo drums of Nigeria beat strong within my chest,
A lineage of resilience, beautifully confessed.
I hold the proud nobility my family deep instilled,
A sacred vessel with their stories filled.
And down the winding paths of time, the golden threads unwind,
Through Sephardic songs and prayers that the centuries aligned.
Across European winters and the spaces in between,
To the deep Indigenous roots where the ancient forests lean.
Every shore, every mountain, every prayer, every scar,
Made me exactly who and whose I am.
I look into the mirror and I see the holy spark,
Radiant in the morning, shining through the dark.
Glad that the chains of the past could not hold,
Glad that my freedom is a wealth untold.
No yoke will ever bind me, no walls will confine,
The liberty I carry is eternal and divine.
Baruch Hashem for the strength in my stride,
For the beautiful Black woman standing in her pride.
A daughter of Torah, of the soil, of the free,
Determined to remain exactly who I’m born to be.
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Barrett Holman Leak is a freelance writer based in San Diego.