For Angela Galbraith, attending Sacramento’s Kwanzaa celebration wasn’t just about observing a holiday; it was about reclaiming a part of herself that had been denied for decades.

“I grew up in the foster system,” Galbraith said. “Because my father was Black, I was abused in white foster homes. I didn’t even know my father was Black until I was older. When I found out, my life finally started to make sense.”

Now 53, Galbraith brought her son to the 27th annual California State Capitol Kwanzaa Celebration on Dec. 29 to instill Black pride in him, something she says she didn’t grow up with.

“I want my son to be proud of being Black,” she said. “I want him to know his heritage, his history, and that Kwanzaa was created for us.”

Uahsuf Shepsuaba shares the seven principles of Kwanzaa with Angela Galbraith and her son Michael Byrum, 12, at the CapitolCapital on Dec. 29. Roberta Alvarado, OBSERVER
Uahsuf Shepsuaba shares the seven principles of Kwanzaa with Angela Galbraith and her son Michael Byrum, 12, at the CapitolCapital on Dec. 29. Roberta Alvarado, OBSERVER

Her story reflects the core purposes of Kwanzaa: cultural reclamation, education, and self-definition.

Kwanzaa was created in 1966 by scholar and activist Dr. Maulana Karenga in the aftermath of the Watts Rebellion, a period marked by racial violence, political upheaval, and the fight for Black liberation during the Civil Rights Movement.

“It’s a seven-day holiday with seven principles and seven symbols,” said Michael Harris, coordinator of the celebration. “And it’s celebrated on all seven continents.”

After centuries of oppression, Karenga believed Black Americans had lost cultural grounding. Kwanzaa was created to help Black people reconnect with African heritage, define themselves outside of white-dominated culture, encourage economic and cultural self-sufficiency, and build pride in Black identity on our own terms.

Kwanzaa was not created to replace Christmas or any religious holiday. Instead, Karenga designed it as a non-religious, cultural holiday that could coexist with Christianity or other faiths.

The name Kwanzaa comes from the Swahili phrase “matunda ya kwanza,” meaning “first fruits of the harvest.” The holiday runs annually Dec. 26-Jan. 1, with each day dedicated to one of the Nguzo Saba, or Seven Principles: unity (umoja), self-determination (kujichagulia), collective work and responsibility (ujima), cooperative economics (ujamaa), purpose (nia), creativity (kuumba), and faith (imani).

“Kwanzaa forces us to ask a basic question,” Harris said. “Who are you, where do you come from, and are you living in alignment with that?”

Angela Galbraith and her son Michael Byrum engage with an item on a table that carries symbolic meaning celebrated during Kwanzaa at the CapitolCapital. Roberta Alvarado, OBSERVER
Angela Galbraith and her son Michael Byrum engage with an item on a table that carries symbolic meaning celebrated during Kwanzaa at the CapitolCapital. Roberta Alvarado, OBSERVER

Harris, who also advocates for Black farmers, said the holiday’s agricultural roots often are overlooked.

“This is a harvest festival,” he said. “It presupposes that you have a farm, that you produce something, and that you put the fruits of your labor on the Kwanzaa table.”

For nearly three decades, Harris has used the Capitol celebration to spotlight the decline of Black farmers in California.

“We’ll pay the drummers, the dancers, the printers,” Harris said. “But at a harvest festival, nobody asks where the farmer is.”

He sees reconnecting Kwanzaa to Black agriculture as essential for true self-sufficiency.

“This is a half-billion-dollar industry,” he said. “Food is insurance, health, economics, and power. And we are nowhere in that system.”

Ujamaa, or cooperative economics, urges communities to build businesses together and benefit from them. Harris said this principle remains mostly unrealized.

“There are no Black cooperatives in Sacramento,” he said. “We practice cooperative economics everywhere else, but not for ourselves.”

Harris argues that without intentional investment in Black-owned systems, especially food systems, celebrations risk becoming symbolic rather than transformative.

Vanessa, left, and Nestor Hatuey share symbolic elements of Kwanzaa with their son, Bakari, 9. Roberta Alvarado, OBSERVER
Vanessa, left, and Nestor Hatuey share symbolic elements of Kwanzaa with their son, Bakari, 9. Roberta Alvarado, OBSERVER

“Kwanzaa isn’t just about lighting candles and eating good food,” he said. “It’s about applying the principles to your life.”

For Galbraith, Kwanzaa represents personal and generational healing.

“Celebrating this is taking back what they took from me when I was little,” she said. “It’s not about skin color or hair texture. Black people are not a monolith. We come in many shades and stories.”

She hopes exposing her son to Kwanzaa helps build confidence and connection.

“Maybe if we teach our kids to be proud of their Blackness,” she said, “we’ll stop harming each other.”

That sense of collective responsibility also resonated with Cheyenne Butcher, a lifelong Sacramento resident attending the event.

“Kwanzaa is about community empowerment,” Butcher said. “It’s a chance for people of all ages to come together, learn the principles, and figure out how we can make our communities better.”