Column: Answering the Call for Juneteenth Coverage in Davidson County
Opinion
By Antionette Kerr, Publisher, Davidson Local
Watch the Video Recap by Thomas Martin
In Davidson County, Juneteenth unfolded as both celebration and reckoning—joy, history, and hard truths woven into every event. From Lexington’s cemetery tributes to Thomasville’s “trailride,” the weekend blended remembrance, music, food, and community spirit into something that felt both ancestral and alive. As one organizer put it, the pushback in today’s political climate only makes it more important to show up for freedom—and to do so boldly.
The Annual Juneteenth Freedom Celebration kicked off Thursday afternoon at Arts | Theatre 202 in Uptown Lexington. The alley pulsed with energy as local youth DJs, spoken-word performers, and vendors transformed the space into something between a block party and a homecoming. Small businesses like House of Trelle, Bubba’s Sweet Spot, Soulful Creationz, and Melanin Beauty Bar offered everything from lemonade and desserts to handmade gifts and skincare products.
Dr. Tomogi Jackson delivered more than a talk—it was a communal affirmation. With call-and-response energy and motivational exercises, she reminded the crowd that freedom isn’t just historical—it’s daily. DL team member Chinue Herbert put it plainly: Jackson helped people remember who they are.
Dr. Timoji Jackson {Photo Credit: Chinue Herbert/Davidson Local}
Not everyone celebrates Juneteenth the same way—and that's okay. Some come for the music. Some to reflect. Some with questions. Some choose not to come at all. Organizers made space for all of it, recognizing that freedom delayed leaves marks that still need tending.
This was an honoring of ancestors—something I know my late great-great-grandparents, great-grandparents, grandparents, mother, and father would have wanted me to do. They didn’t always have the freedom to gather like this. But we do. And that responsibility is sacred.
Saturday in Thomasville brought a different rhythm—boots, barbecue, and big love. Mayor Pro Tem JaQuez Johnson, with a long list of community partners, turned Pace Park into something that felt more like a family reunion than a festival. There were horse rides, food trucks, folding chairs, and people reconnecting. The TNT Steppers brought the crowd to its feet with a performance that blended pride with precision.
“This is something the community asked for,” said Johnson. “We’ve heard people say, ‘Don’t just give us a party—give us what’s next.’ That’s what this is.”
Former Thomasville City Council member and current school board member Wendy Sellars echoed that sentiment. “I think the event is amazing. It makes my heart smile,” she said. “JaQuez Johnson did an amazing job. I’m excited to see all the young people out today.”
One of the most meaningful moments came Sunday afternoon, as the skies opened and the community gathered at Lexington City Cemetery to honor the lives of enslaved African Americans—souls once buried without names or markers. What some saw as a rain delay, others recognized as divine timing. “God opened the skies,” one presenter said.
And in that moment, I thought of my favorite quote from Amos—the one Dr. King returned to often: “Let justice roll down like waters, and righteousness like a mighty stream.” Justice rolled down like water. It soaked into the soil where our ancestors rest. The rain didn’t stop the ceremony; it became part of it. A reminder that even long-buried truths can rise. That remembrance is resistance. That we still have work to do.
This memorial was years in the making—brought to life through the vision and persistence of community members, faith leaders, and local donors. Grace Episcopal Church played a key role, along with individuals who refused to let this history remain hidden: Rosalind Baker, Reverend Arnetta Beverly, Robert Craven, Garrett Holloway, Reverend Ed Kelaher, Clarence Hargrave, Tyrone Terry, Chevon Burton, Donetta Roberts, and Chuck Miller. Their efforts turned silence into ceremony—and memory into monument.
After years of planning, committee members gathered at Lexington City Cemetery to dedicate this memorial site honoring the lives of enslaved African Americans. Committee member Rosalind Baker noted that the project will continue.
Tucked away on the outskirts of Lexington, Calabash Farms hosted the IFE African New Year Celebration, one of the weekend’s hidden gems. Organized by the IFE Cultural Arts Center, the event honored African traditions through drumming, dance, jazz, storytelling, and visual art. Guests explored an artist market, watched an African fashion show, and swayed to the sounds of Lion Tracks Reggae Band. Food from across the diaspora—Caribbean, soul, and vegetarian—fed both body and spirit. On those peaceful nine acres, lined with trails and trees, it became clear: Juneteenth can be a bridge to healing as much as history.
With support from Grace Episcopal Church and community members, the once-unmarked burial site now holds benches, flower urns, 32 cross markers, and a granite stone etched with the words: “These are they...” — Revelation 7:14.
The Davidson Local team showed up and showed out this Juneteenth. Over just a few days, we covered ten events across the county—from meaningful memorials to joyful celebrations, from alleyways and farms to churches and cemeteries. We launched our video coverage with the help of teammate Thomas Martin. We weren’t everywhere because it was our job. We were everywhere because it mattered.
They gave me energy. They showed up early and stayed late. They asked questions. They listened. They reported. They danced. They passed the mic. They reminded me why we do this—and what it means to bear witness. And they did it not as outsiders, but as part of the community we serve.
One organizer wrote to say thank you—but this is what community journalism feels like.
And still, the week leading up to Juneteenth reminded me how far we have to go. After Davidson Local published our event coverage and invitations, I answered a phone call filled with hateful speech. I won’t repeat the words I made out, but I’m clear there was profanity—and that it was directed at my stories. I never had a chance to respond. The caller hung up.
Answering the call is what we do—whether it’s community members seeking coverage or critics trying to silence it. We still show up.
Davidson Local was honored to be part of the journey—documenting, celebrating, and walking alongside this community.
And we’ll be there for what comes next.
