I'm certain you're aware that today is Juneteenth. My inbox and social feeds have been flooded with statements about it. In an interview about Juneteenth from 2017, journalist Isabel Wilkerson described most white Americans' understanding of history as "walking into a movie theater in the middle of a movie." And indeed, here we are. We're late.

True, it's better to take our seats late than to glance at the marquee and keep strolling past the theater. But some acknowledgment of our tardiness—and some time to absorb what we missed in the first half of the film—is in order. Case in point: I'm only able to quote the Wilkerson interview today because I went searching for interviews with historians after I saw Juneteenth pop up on my Google calendar two days ago, and realized I needed more education about it.

Part of this broader moment, for me, is about acknowledging the many ways I'm a late and doing the work to catch up. What does it mean for a white person or a predominantly white organization to say "Happy Juneteenth!"? I'm not sure I have a full answer yet, but I do know it involves understanding the first half of the movie—and also exiting the theater and getting to work.

On a related note, on Call Your Girlfriend today we talk about the superficial solidarity statements being issued by everyone from magazines to big-box stores to weapons manufacturers—and what real reckoning might look like.

"Change once painted as impossibly radical is becoming reality." Why this time is different. "I don’t know, I don’t know, I don’t know, son. A prayer, a confession, a warped hymn I can’t just swallow behind my lips: I’ve seen so much, and still I don’t know." On private anxiety in a very public pandemic. The desperation of American workers—and why it didn't have to be this way. How “middlemen minorities” played a role in the death of George Floyd. On finding well-being and Black joy when the world is on fire. WNBA legend Maya Moore's extraordinary quest for justice. On performative allyship at work. We still haven’t fully recognized the art made by 20th-century Black artists. An interview with cinematographer and artist Arthur Jafa. The pandemic as a translation challenge. What does Pride mean now? On cooperatively owned land as a way of building wealth. Women realize their "Live Laugh Love" decor is being mocked online, and decide they like it anyway. "I miss the way a friend’s laugh shifts the atmosphere of a room."

And my personal #BlackoutBestsellerList purchases: A Black Women's History of the United States by Daina Ramey Berry and Kali Nicole Gross, Eve L. Ewing's 1919, and I Don't Want to Die Poor by Michael Arceneaux.

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Miss Juneteenth (watch the trailer here). Recorder, a documentary about activist and archivist Marion Stokes, who recorded American television 24 hours a day for over 30 years. Candyman, an animated short, is "at the intersection of white violence and black pain, is about unwilling martyrs." Nadiya's Time to Eat. And I honestly laughed so hard at this report about "social dis-dancing" at a Dutch club.

Nikole Hannah-Jones on The 1619 Project, which deeply engages with the first half of the movie.

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To do: Take action in solidarity with Black trans people.

To buy: I love this letterpress-printed WTF poster—a whole mood!—by George McCalman.

And as a follow-up to last week's newsletter about doing the work where you are, I've been paying attention to the ways that some of my fellow white media-makers are reckoning with their own work—especially when it comes to editorial outlets that are not explicitly about race or social justice: This episode of Who?Weekly (a podcast about celebrity gossip), this episode of A Thing or Two (a podcast about small business, design, curation), and this post by designer Dylan Lathrop about the sports site Bleacher Report. These more specific assessments of how to de-center whiteness are, to me, much more promising than a general "we have to do better" statement.