دانلود رمان انگلیسی “کمیته‌ای متشکل از یک نفر”

I did not grow up with Juneteenth. I had never even heard of the date nor the holiday until I was a thirty-year-old living on the West Coast. I had moved for work to the whitest major city in the nation and that city, inexplicably, introduced me to Juneteenth. I had been a student of Black history most of my life and even earned a degree in African American studies. And yet, somehow, I had never been introduced to the story of Galveston, General Order No. 3, and this regional commemoration of slavery. Intrigued, I began researching the holiday and the historical circumstances that necessitated it. And in doing so, I came to understand—as is often the case—that the reason I did not know this history was due to yet another intentional act of erasure. I discovered that the United States was one of the few countries in our hemisphere that did not officially recognize the end of chattel slavery with an Emancipation Day. That fact revealed so much about the determination to obscure our past. Ours was a nation so ashamed that it was founded on ideals of liberty while enslaving one fifth of the population, that it could not even celebrate the day that hypocrisy ended.