History needs to be told correctly. Especially in this day and time in the year of our Lord 2025. Not watered down or simplified, but with all its flaky layers. It’s like my mom’s peach cobbler which is my FAV dessert she makes.
Juneteenth is a holiday that is so ingrained in me that I never noticed it until I realized the story was being told incorrectly. A story that’s not told correctly is like a dish made with the wrong or bad ingredients. Just like my mom’s peach cobbler is layered I want to take us on a layered journey on how Juneteenth set us on the path to a sweet, juicy dose of flaky truth.
People literally say “Hallelujah” and “Amen” after that first bite. It’s a sermon and a celebration, layered like the very history we fight to preserve. I had my mom make two pans of peach cobbler for a meeting I was hosting a while ago. A lady walked up to get some while I was mid-sentence and shouted. I thought something had happened then someone said, ‘oh she just took a bite’. We all laughed and kept it moving. Another time I brought three pans to a company potluck. One of my coworkers took one bite and offered to pay me $50 to take one whole pan home to his family while we ate from the other two. Yea, I took that money and sent it to my mom. She earned that. When people taste something that just stirs their soul they want that sensation or memory to linger just a little while longer. So they have something to talk about later.
That’s how I want people to understand Juneteenth and why it’s entangled into the souls of Black Texans.
This is the inside look of the crust I tried to recreate. As younger generations try to step up, lead, take charge or do it our way, without the guidance of an elder we usually don’t have the same results. Things may go well but the results sometimes fall short of what we grew up seeing. Just like following a recipe from memory without knowing all the steps, we can’t move our community forward without learning how we got here from the people who brought us this far. It is time to share those recipes because it’s okay for older generations to sit down and watch their legacy while on this side of the dirt. Just saying. Now let’s get back to how my mom’s cobbler encapsulates the essence of Juneteenth to me.
The crust on my mom’s peach cobbler is my FAV part. She has multiple layers of crust. Okay, y’all it’s just layers upon layers of goodness. It’s what holds the whole thing together. That’s the role of the elders in our community—the ones who decided Juneteenth was worth remembering and protecting. They are the ones who made Juneteenth not just a moment, but a movement, a promise to every generation to come. We still see Ms. Opal Lee is out there walking so we keep Juneteenth in the forefront of people’s minds.
And my mom doesn’t play when it comes to her crust—she uses real butter. True foodies know. Our historians are like butter to the crust. They’re the ones who dig into the past, uncover the real stories, and help us see the pride and strength in our roots. Like the real butter my mom uses, the historians are seeking our truth. Because we know the substitutes distort the flavor combination. Just like disinformation, lies and mistruths mar our history when others tell it from a perspective that benefits them.
As much as I love the crust, it wouldn’t be much without the filling. The peaches represent the current and future generations the elders are holding together. Our strength, survival, and spirit melds together just like the peaches when they touch the crust. The peaches or next generations are only as good as the soil they are grown in. And just like peaches need good soil to grow, our people need a strong foundation. That foundation came from places like the Black church. When your soil is nurtured & watered then you have plump juicy peaches. And when our people are fed right, our community can withstand many storms.
Can’t make a peach cobbler without the spices. I won’t share what she adds. But you may know if you ever get to try one. The spices are our joys and wounds, our songs and scars. Our experiences. They make each of our communities unique, just like each cobbler is a little different. Each experience is folded in to remind this country:
We are not just a footnote. We are the flavor America can’t forget.
My mom’s cobbler is sweet, but not too sweet. And like my mom’s peach cobbler, Juneteenth deserves to be made right. It deserves to be remembered fully, honestly, and with love.
Because when you know what went into it—you understand why it matters. And we’ll keep serving it, generation after generation, until every table knows its name and where it came from.
My family hails from Louisiana. My mom makes the best cobbler. This article is truly beautiful
Thank you for reading. And I love a good peach cobbler.
Just beautiful! I like the comparison of your mom’s a delicious peach cobbler. May we always be thankful and find reasons to celebrate Juneteenth.
Thank you for reading Mrs. Cynthia. And yes, there’s always reasons to celebrate Juneteenth.