You know, I’m finally starting to put my finger on an issue I’ve always had with “Black History Month.”
Of course no disrespect to it’s creator, Carter G. Woodson. As a matter of fact Woodson is a perfect example of what the month should be; and the fact that he is not a household name is an indictment on what it IS.
To say Woodson was born into a system that was built to dehumanize and discard him is an understatement; his very insistence on life is a testament to his rebellion. But he went a step further. As he made history in his own right, he demanded that the stories of those before him, and the stories of those around him be preserved.
Not the excellent stories.
All of the stories.
I mean that’s what history is right? It’s all of it.
Good.
Bad.
Footnotes.
They all have their place. American history is as much William Henry Harrison as it is Abraham Lincoln. The history of medicine is as much aspirin and ibuprofen as it is opium and penicillin. And Black History is as much my grandmother as it is Martin Luther King Jr. If someone thought it was important enough to write down who was Pope in 1347, it should be important enough to write down the details of the 1873 Colfax massacre (the result of a riot instigated by “anxious whites” who contested the results, and sought to overturn an election btw).
So no, my problem is not with the premise of a month dedicated to Black History.
I think the problem is how the word ‘history’ seems to let us off the hook. I’ll ask a question that every snarky 10th grader has asked (as if they were the first): “Why do we care about history?”
But I mean it? Truly…
Why do we care about history? (Hint: It’s not a trick question)
Context.
History provides context.
Now, here it would be terribly easy to rail against those banning books, demanding they “don’t see race,” refusing to allow CRT (which is not taught in their schools) to be taught in their schools. But the problem lies with the rest of us as well; just differently.
We have all agreed with the premise that Black History Month is about celebrating Black people who are worth celebrating. But it is not. Woodson’s proposition for the celebration (which, during his lifetime the proposition was a week) argued it differently. It was not about “celebrating Black heroes,” a phrase I’ve seen too many times to count.
He once wrote:
"It is not so much a Negro History Week as it is a History Week. We should emphasize not Negro History, but the Negro in History."
So the “first Black X” and the revelation that “a Black person invented Y” are fine, but it’s sort if a Negro History isn’t it? It’s what we were all taught in school…this strange chronology of:
✔ Harriet Tubman
✔ Frederick Douglass
✔ George Washington Carver
✔ Rosa Parks
✔ Martin Luther King
✔ Thurgood Marshall
With the odd Jackie Robinson or Madam C.J. Walker thrown in. Did these people emerge from the throngs of negroes to teach us all a little something about unity?
No!
And what’s more, were they alone?
Certainly not!
But more importantly the “Negro in history” is seemingly forgotten. I said before that Black History is as much my grandmother as it is Martin Luther King Jr. I don’t mean that hyperbolically. She didn’t organize the March on Washington, or farm peanuts, or free any slaves (though her grandmother was born one). But she is 96 years old and is a living piece of history.
My grandmother moved.
She just, packed her bags and literally moved.
Like, 75 years ago.
She moved from Texas to California during The Great Migration, and her experience and motivation provide…
Context.
Not just for me and the backdrop to my life, but for a major movement in U.S. history.
So sure, we should take time to talk about Obama, and Viola Davis, and Steph Curry, and Nikole Hannah-Jones. They are well worth celebration.
But I’d also like to take in the contributions of Black people who grew up with praying aunties listening to gospel music, and Black people who dance when they hear Ying Yang Twins, and Black people who ran for local office, and Black people who remember when Steve Harvey had hair, and Black people who went to HBCU’s, and Black people who create cool shit, and Black people who marched after George Floyd was murdered, and Black people who are making it through the pandemic, and Black people who are quitting their jobs during “The Great Resignation.”
I love hearing about events and accomplishments that were revolutionary, and innovative. But I’d also like to hear about the ones that may be painful, or mundane. A thing doesn’t have to be excellent to make an impact, and it doesn’t have to be good to provide context.
I think our brown siblings got it right by laying claim to Hispanic Heritage Month (fraught though the term Hispanic may be). That’s what I want: Black Heritage.
Black History is a treasure trove.
But Black Heritage is tapestry that we are still weaving.
It has a rich foundation that has already been laid, it provides us with context, and every stitch matters. This distinction may not be meaningful to everyone, but if this month meant embracing BlackNESS and not just BlackPAST it would certainly be more difficult to co-opt by big brands.
As a matter of fact it would be hard to co-opt it as a politician or an activist or a moderate, or a radical, or really anyone. Because we would take the good, the bad, and the footnotes.
We would take the Amanda Gormans and the Issa Raes, but we’d also have to take the Cosbys and the Michael Jacksons.
It’s all context.
It shapes the our world, our culture, our shared stories. All of us.
Am I making some grand call to change Black History Month? No.
Do I think we should stop using one phrase in favor of another? Not necessarily.
I’m naming something that I think worth exploring. Maybe a small change in language is helpful. Maybe no one agrees. Maybe it’s just a pebble in my shoe. But maybe re-framing how we recognize and celebrate can help move us from Negro History to the Negro in History. To an acknowledgement that we’ve been here the whole time. Not in our own timeline like some parallel universe, but our destinies have always been intertwined.