THE OTHER 4TH (AND PASSOVER):

In her slim, affecting volume "On Juneteenth," published last year, historian Annette Gordon-Reed remembered "red soda water," barbecues, and parades in her stretch of East Texas. Gordon-Reed acknowledged feeling a "twinge of possessiveness" when people outside the state started celebrating the holiday. But she came to realize that Texas' history was the nation's. That her celebration was America's.

Whether the country will truly embrace that celebration is yet to be seen. But the Senate vote to make Juneteenth a federal holiday was unanimous, and opposition in the House of Representatives was scant.

Some substantial slice of white America recoils at any mention of critical race theory or The New York Times's "1619 Project." But perhaps an homage to the quintessential American value -- freedom -- could yield a deeper understanding for the bondage that preceded it.

The country, no doubt, could use a deeper understanding. Surveys show Americans know far too little about the history of slavery. And the country doesn't have an especially nuanced view of its lingering effects -- a deep-seated racism and, for too many Black families, a punishing intergenerational poverty.

But the public is more open to the possibility of lingering effects than might be imagined. A Pew Research Center survey from 2019 found that 63 percent of Americans believe the legacy of slavery affects the position of Black people in America today.

Reparations remain a tough sell. But surveys show that millennials and members of Gen Z have significantly more liberal views on race and government intervention in societal problems than their parents and grandparents. A more tolerant and diverse country with a better feel for its history could bend toward justice with a broader understanding for our history and what is required to address it.

A federal holiday alone can't be expected to do the work of social transformation, of course. But it can send a signal.

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