The Power of Third Spaces: A Juneteenth Reflection, 2026

By Jenna Flanagan, Juneteenth Emcee

When I arrived at the fi

eld at Historic Huguenot Street to emcee the Margaret Wade-Lewis Center’s Juneteenth Jubilee, I thought I was stepping into an afternoon of music, dance, stories, and history. And I was. But almost immediately, it became something more.

Emcee Jenna Flanagan, right, with elected officials and MWLC Executive Director, Esi Lewis (center), at the Juneteenth Jubilee, 2026.

Before I even fully settled into the rhythm of the afternoon this past Juneteenth, I was being greeted by people I hadn’t seen in weeks, months, and to my shock, in some cases, years.

There were hugs. Real hugs. The kind that remind you how much a person’s presence matters. The kind that make you realize that the occasional text message, as lovely and convenient as they can be, are simply not enough. Infrequent texting does not a relationship make.

Standing there, surrounded by familiar faces and the sound of community gathering around me, I realized something uncomfortable about my own life: in the grind of working from home, freelancing, building, hustling, and trying to keep up with the constant demands of capitalistic production, I had sacrificed prioritizing time and space for community.

Not intentionally. Not all at once. It happened slowly, as I think it did for a lot of us.

A missed gathering here. A “let’s catch up soon” there. A text instead of a visit. A deadline instead of a conversation. A workday that never quite ends because when your home is also your office, the boundary between being productive and being present can disappear entirely.

And then the Juneteenth Jubilee reminded me what I had been missing. The annual celebration hosted by the Margaret Wade-Lewis Center is, of course, an opportunity for education and reflection. Juneteenth asks us to remember that freedom in this country has never arrived evenly, easily, or all at once. It asks us to sit with the truth of emancipation delayed, justice denied, and liberation still unfinished.

It is also a celebration of survival, culture, creativity, and Black joy.

But this year, what struck me most was that the Jubilee was also something we don’t always name, but desperately need: a third space.

A third space is somewhere that is not home and not work. It is a place where people can gather without being reduced to what they produce, what they purchase, or how efficiently they move through the world. It is where neighbors become familiar, where elders pass down stories, where children see themselves reflected in community, and where connection happens without needing a transaction to justify it.

And those spaces are disappearing. Fast.

So much of modern life is organized around consumption. Coffee shops, restaurants, ticketed events, private memberships, and commercial spaces can all offer connection, but often only for as long as you can afford to keep buying something. At the same time, many of us are more isolated than we realize, than we’ve ever been before, working remotely, moving quickly, managing multiple jobs, caregiving, scrolling, texting, and trying to maintain relationships in fragments.

The result is a quiet loneliness that cuts across age, race, class, and geography. We are more reachable than ever, but not more connected.

That is what made the Margaret Wade-Lewis Center’s Juneteenth Jubilee feel so important. It was the opposite of isolation. It was a field full of people choosing to be together. It was music and dance, but also recognition. It was history, yes, but also fellowship. It was a reminder that community is not something we can simply admire from a distance. It is something we have to show up for.

And there was no expectation that you had to buy your way into belonging. You could come with your family. You could bring a chair. You could sit and listen, learn, laugh, dance, hug someone you hadn’t seen in too long, and stay simply because you were welcome there. That matters.

Juneteenth is a celebration of freedom, but freedom is not only a legal status or a historic milestone. Freedom is also the ability to gather. To remember. To tell the truth. To celebrate openly. To build relationships across generations. To create spaces where people feel seen, rooted, and held. The Margaret Wade-Lewis Center’s Juneteenth Jubilee offered all of that.

The annual event is free to the public, but putting it on is not free. Events like this require planning, labor, permits, equipment, artists, educators, organizers, volunteers, and resources. And if we want more inclusive, celebratory third-space gatherings like Juneteenth and the Margaret Wade-Lewis Center’s upcoming Kwanzaa celebration in December, then we have to help make them possible.

If you are able, please consider donating to the Margaret Wade-Lewis Center to help guarantee the continuation of these community events. Because community does not just happen by accident. Community can only happen when we all participate.

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