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Freedom Still Deferred: Honoring Juneteenth Through a Disability Justice Lens

By June 19, 2025One Comment

On June 19, 1865—two and a half years after the Emancipation Proclamation—enslaved Black people in Galveston, Texas were finally informed of their freedom. Juneteenth marks this moment, a delayed liberation that reflects the ongoing nature of struggle and the power of Black resistance.

But what happens when even that freedom doesn’t reach all of us?

As we commemorate Juneteenth today, we must also name a truth too often left out of the conversation: Black disabled people are still fighting for our freedom.

Liberation Isn’t One-Size-Fits-All

Freedom didn’t come all at once in 1865, and it hasn’t come all at once—or at all—for many of us now. The legacy of enslaved people on in systems that disproportionately incarcerate, institutionalize, and neglect Black disabled people. From schools to hospitals to jails, the message remains: we are not meant to thrive.

Disability Justice, a framework created by and for disabled people of color, reminds us that freedom is not just about laws—it’s about living with dignity, autonomy, and access. It’s about being able to show up in our bodies and minds as they are, without being punished or left behind.

Black Disabled People Have Always Been Freedom Fighters

We’ve always been here—organizing, creating, resisting. But the stories of Black disabled leaders are often erased, flattened, or ignored altogether. Harriet Tubman lived with a traumatic brain injury. Fannie Lou Hamer, who endured forced sterilization, was a disabled civil rights icon. And today, Black disabled activists continue to lead movements for justice across the country.

Their stories—and our stories—are not footnotes. They are the blueprint.

Freedom Means More Than Emancipation

When we talk about liberation, we must mean more than just being unshackled. We must talk about:

  • Healthcare that doesn’t discriminate
  • Housing that’s truly accessible
  • Education that embraces disabled learners
  • Crisis response that doesn’t criminalize our bodies
  • A culture that values interdependence, not just independence

Disability Justice invites us to reimagine freedom—not as something individual or transactional, but as collective, embodied, and ongoing.

Where Do We Go From Here?

Celebrating Juneteenth means acknowledging where we’ve been—and where we haven’t yet gone. It’s not enough to wave flags and repost quotes if we’re not centering the most marginalized in our movements.

This Juneteenth, we ask:

  • Who’s still waiting for their freedom?
  • Who’s still being silenced, segregated, or dismissed?
  • How do we build a future where no one gets left behind?

The answers begin with us. Our organizing. Our dreaming. Our refusal to accept a partial freedom.

Because freedom delayed is freedom denied. And Black disabled people deserve more than crumbs from the table—we deserve the table, the meal, and a seat built with access in mind.

What You Can Do

Here are some actionable ways to honor Juneteenth through a Disability Justice lens:

  • Support Black disabled mutual aid and advocacy organizations
    (e.g., Sins Invalid, Harriet Tubman Collective, Disability Justice Culture Club)
  • Learn from Black disabled leaders and content creators
    Share their work, credit their labor, and amplify their voices
  • Organize for systemic change
    Push for accessible housing, inclusive education, healthcare justice, and abolition
  • Start conversations in your community
    Use our reflection questions to spark deeper dialogue at your events or in your circles. Download our Juneteenth discussion guide here.

Resources to Read, Watch, and Share

[Follow on IG: @talilalewis, @blackdisabilitycollective, @jtknoxroxs]

Mary Fashik

Marketing and Programs Coordinator for NAMED Advocates

One Comment

  • Ashley D'Acci says:

    thank you for your leadership. As a white disabled advocate working on policy to uplift disabled BIPOC, I try to move with deep care and humility.

    Lately, I’ve been told that because I’m white, any comment—even one simply thanking a Black leader or affirming the work ahead—is inherently centering and harmful. I was told to stay silent, not speak, not even sit at the table —language that felt deeply ableist and gatekeeping.

    Juneteenth reminds us of how long freedom has been delayed—and how urgently we need to fight for those still unseen. So I ask with respect:
    How do we hold space for accountability and inclusion? How do we name whiteness without demanding silence from those trying to serve with care?

    With gratitude

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