The Anatomy of a Cliché
Since Juneteenth became a federal holiday in 2021, American media has rushed to create content honoring it. From sitcom episodes to cable news specials, a visual language has quickly emerged, and it almost always culminates in the same way: the montage.
The formula is predictable. Start with grainy photos of enslaved people or stern-faced abolitionists. Mix in footage of Civil Rights marches. Then, pivot to the present: a Black family barbecuing in a park, a father teaching his daughter to ride a bike, a group of friends laughing, all in glorious slow-motion. A gospel choir or a poignant R&B track—think Bill Withers or Sam Cooke—plays over everything, tying it all together. This sequence is designed to be emotionally resonant. It’s a shorthand for progress, a visual essay on the theme of 'Look how far we've come.' The creators aren't malicious; they’re trying to distill 150-plus years of complex history into a digestible, two-minute segment that feels inspiring before the credit roll or commercial break. But in doing so, they've created a cliché that is beginning to feel hollow.
The Comfort of a Clean Narrative
The montage ending is popular because it’s easy. It provides a clean, satisfying narrative arc that American storytelling loves: struggle, perseverance, triumph. It takes the jagged, painful, and often contradictory story of Black freedom and sands it down into a smooth, uplifting package. For a television producer on a deadline, it’s a perfect solution. For a nation still grappling with its racial history, it’s a comforting lie.
The problem is that Juneteenth itself defies this simple arc. The holiday commemorates June 19, 1865, when Union soldiers arrived in Galveston, Texas, to announce that enslaved African Americans were free—a full two and a half years after the Emancipation Proclamation. Its very origin is a story of delayed justice, of freedom deferred. It’s not a clean endpoint but a messy, complicated beginning of a new struggle for citizenship and equality. The montage, with its seamless flow from then to now, erases this fundamental tension. It implies the story is over and that the primary challenges have been overcome.
Juneteenth Isn't a Movie Ending
A good story knows its ending is earned. In film, a triumphant final montage works when the preceding narrative has fully explored the conflict. But when it comes to Juneteenth, the conflict is not resolved. The legacy of that two-and-a-half-year delay in Texas echoes in the systemic inequalities that persist today. The fight for voting rights, economic justice, and equal protection under the law is the continuation of the story that began, in many ways, on Juneteenth.
The feel-good montage neatly sidesteps this inconvenient reality. It allows viewers to experience a catharsis without having to engage with the difficult questions the holiday raises. It turns Juneteenth from a commemoration of a specific, fraught historical moment into a generic 'Black Excellence' celebration. While celebrating Black joy and achievement is vital, using it as a narrative balm to soothe the discomfort of history is a disservice to the holiday’s power. It turns a moment of historical reckoning into a Hallmark card.
Beyond the Montage: Telling Better Stories
So, what’s the alternative? It’s not about avoiding happy endings or refusing to celebrate Black joy. It’s about demanding more specificity and honesty. Instead of a sweeping, generic montage, why not end a special with a single, powerful story? Profile a descendant of one of the people freed in Galveston. Explore the local history of a specific Juneteenth celebration that has been running for over a century. Let a historian or activist talk, uninterrupted, about what the holiday means to them *now*.
These approaches are harder. They require more research, more nuance, and a willingness to leave the audience with questions rather than easy answers. They might not provide the same neat, uplifting closure. But they would offer something more valuable: an authentic connection to the spirit of Juneteenth. They would honor the holiday not by smoothing over its complexities, but by embracing them. The goal shouldn't be to make viewers feel good about the past, but to make them think critically about the present.
