Shell's Pearls of Wisdom: The Cost of Freedom

Today is Juneteenth.

As I sit here in bed this morning, reflecting on what I am most appreciative of, one word keeps coming to mind:

Freedom.

The freedom to be who I want to be.

To wear what I want.To say what I want.To love how I want.To express myself how I want.To live authentically and unapologetically as me.

But freedom comes with a cost.

The cost is knowing that not everyone will like it.

Some people will judge me for it.Some people will talk about me because of it.Some people may even try to hurt me because of it.

Whether that cost is big or small, freedom is rarely free.

Because I still live in a world where many people look at me and see only the color of my skin.

Not my character. Not my heart.Not the words that come out of my mouth.Not the actions I take.

Just the color of my skin.

And depending on who is looking, that color can mean something good, something bad, or something indifferent before I've even had the opportunity to introduce myself.

So today, as we celebrate Juneteenth, I want to first say thank you to those who have reached out, acknowledged the day, and shown support.

But I also want to challenge you.

For just one moment, put yourself in the shoes of a Black person.

Imagine discovering that you were free... long after everyone else already knew.

Juneteenth commemorates June 19, 1865, when Union troops arrived in Galveston, Texas, and informed enslaved African Americans that they were free—more than two years after the Emancipation Proclamation had been signed.

Think about that.

The world knows something life-changing that you don't know.

Freedom has already been declared.

But nobody bothered to tell you.

Then one day, someone finally arrives and says, "You are free."

Can you imagine the emotions?

Joy.Relief.Anger.Confusion.Celebration.Grief.

All existing at the same time.

For many Black Americans, Juneteenth is not just a holiday.

It is remembrance.

It is reflection.

It is understanding that our ancestors carried burdens that many people today will never fully comprehend.

And those stories aren't ancient history.

My own father was a Black Panther.

My own mother was raised by a mammy.

Many of us have grandparents, parents, aunts, uncles, and loved ones who lived through segregation, racial violence, discrimination, and battles for basic civil rights that many people take for granted today.

So if you have someone in your life who is Black-Black, blackity Black Black, and you love them, care about them, or value them, don't just say, "Happy Juneteenth."

Acknowledge them.

Check on them.

Ask questions if you don't understand.

Listen if they're willing to share.

Learn if you're willing to grow.

Because true allyship isn't performative.

True allyship doesn't disappear when conversations become uncomfortable.

It doesn't leave the kitchen when the heat gets turned up.

It stays.

It listens.

It learns.

And it helps carry the weight.

Today, I celebrate freedom.

I celebrate those who fought for it. Those who died for it. Those who continue to protect it.

And I celebrate the freedom to be exactly who I am.

Even when that freedom comes with a cost.

Happy Juneteenth.

— Shell's Pearls of Wisdom