Juneteenth and the Digital Divide

By Jovan C. Hicks, Executive Chair of the Board of Directors, EveryoneOn

Jovan C. Hicks

For me, Juneteenth has always lived at the intersection of joy and sorrow. It highlights a systemized violation of human rights in our country. It marks a time in our history when Union troops, led by U.S. Major General Gordon Granger, marched into Galveston, Texas and read General Order No. 3, “The People of Texas are informed that, in accordance with the Emancipation Proclamation from the Executive of the United States, all slaves are free.” On that date, June 19, 1865, the Union had fulfilled its duty of notifying residents of Texas, which included over 250,000 enslaved Black people, of their freedom. Unfortunately, that was two and a half years after the Emancipation Proclamation was signed into law. 

Prior to that day, any southern state that did not have a significant Union presence was considered a safe haven for slavery, and being that Texas was a border state that had yet to be occupied by the Union, many slaveowners and their human property moved to Texas. In the ultimate act of defiance and depravity, after General Order No. 3 was read, many slaveowners withheld the Union’s good news of freedom from their slaves until after harvest season, at which time they were freed. For the newly emancipated, a celebration ensued - a visceral outward expression of joy that had been muted for centuries. In honor of their fortitude, we too celebrate Juneteenth with jubilation. 

Many ask how this information could be kept from so many for so long. Throughout history, access to information has always been used as a tool of oppression, with the knowledge that it can also liberate. We know that with information comes power, and with that power a person can change the trajectory of their life. It is fundamental to an individual’s sense of identity, livelihood and belonging. 

A modern form of institutional oppression is digital inequity. Under-resourced communities, often comprised of people of color, don't always have the same access to affordable internet, devices and digital proficiency as in more affluent communities, thus limiting employment opportunities, healthcare, banking, education and social connections.  

The parallels between digital inequity and Juneteenth are undeniable. While information was primarily shared orally among slaves due to laws prohibiting other forms of communication, these griots, or West African storytellers, kept our family history alive and even helped guide some to freedom. Today our griot is digital. As we work toward digital access for all - access to technology along with the skills to use it to our benefit - we take the chains off opportunity and open up the world for individuals, families and communities. 

My family is a prime example of how access can shift life outcomes for generations. 

I recently discovered that the man who enslaved my maternal ancestors was named John W. Bickham. In 1819, he donated 30 acres of his massive land in Washington Parish, Louisiana and arranged to have it surveyed and sub-divided into lots and squares. This would become the city of Franklinton, Louisiana of which he is credited as the founder. On this land he also fathered some of my ancestors - a sobering reality of the trauma many Black Americans faced while living on plantations. 

However, the story of my ancestors doesn’t end in trauma. On March 1, 1878, just 15 years after the signing of the Emancipation Proclamation, Lazar Bickham, the freed son of John Bickham, obtained 81 acres and seventy-three hundredths of one acre through the Southern Homestead Act (SHA). Enacted in 1866 shortly after the end of the Civil War, the SHA was intended to function much like the original Homestead Act signed by President Abraham Lincoln in 1862 by granting up to 160 acres of unoccupied southern land exclusively to African Americans and whites compliant with the laws of the “new south.”  To claim your land, one had to complete a three-part process: first, file a written application. For many former slaves this posed a particular challenge because while in bondage the act of reading and writing was forbidden, thus most were illiterate. Second, improve the land for five years. This too posed a challenge because during Reconstruction many could not afford the tools and resources to turn the land into a profitable enterprise. Third, file the deed of ownership. If a Black person was fortunate enough to complete the first two steps, they were often met with resistance and even murder when filing and claiming their land.   

Southern Homestead Act land grants issued to George W. Bickham on August 9, 1889 and Lazar Bickham on March 1, 1878, signed by Presidents Rutherford B. Hayes and Benjamin Harrison

John Bickham’s standing in the community made way for his Black descendants, though never claimed as kin in official records, to access information and property ownership. After Lazar’s death, his son George W. Bickham acquired the full 160 acres available through the SHA. Outside of freedom, this was the greatest gift Lazar could have received from his father - a gift for generations to come. 

I often wonder what my ancestors endured while enslaved in Franklinton, Louisiana. Like many other Black Americans, it is difficult to trace our ancestry, and if you are lucky enough to find information it is often disjointed when passed down through oral tradition. I am so fortunate to have access to these parts of my family history that will live on through official records, digitally. The property is still in our family today and many of the descendants of Lazar Bickham have profited from the rich natural resources it provides. 

So today, on Juneteenth, I choose to celebrate the legacy of my ancestors and all that they endured so that my son and I, the descendants of American slaves, may live free and thrive. We are our ancestors’ wildest dreams.