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We set aside one month each year to honor, recognize and celebrate Black history. It’s an opportunity to highlight the accomplishments of the Black community in a country where Black history is otherwise so often centered on Black pain, struggle and trauma.
This foregrounding of our pain has so many touch points in America, from what is taught in schools, to what is reported on the news, and what is created, monetized and consumed for entertainment. Recently I’ve been thinking a lot about the Black community’s history in this country and why I believe Black people have not received the empathy, recognition or reparations for which we have fought over the last hundred and fifty years. While we have made significant progress, there is one thing that has struck me: we as a collective do not and cannot have the documentation of what happened to our ancestors. There is simply no one around to confirm the truth.
My dad grew up on a plantation in Mississippi during World War II. He has told me what he remembers about his family history, but at a certain point his memories reach their limit and nothing else tangible exists that he can reference. This is the reality for the majority of Black Americans. While some journals have been uncovered, it pales in comparison to others’ genealogies. We as a community may never see the peace and acknowledgement we deserve because we have nothing to corroborate the atrocities that we know were committed. And while the accounts we do have are limited, personal testimonies can easily be refuted by someone who wants to erase the history that our ancestors actually lived.
I also realized that this is why so many people don’t respect plantations and the history that took place there. When the land where humans were owned, beaten, sold and treated like animals now regularly hosts weddings and get-togethers, it bears the question: does the history of this land matter? If so, why is it not preserved and honored with respect?
With the dismantling of DEI initiatives, the threat of having public school funding revoked if a school teaches history in a way this administration doesn’t like, and people refusing to atone for the past so we can move on, I have to ask: What does our future look like, how will our past be taught, and how will history remember us in this moment?
#WeNeedToTalk is a reader-supported publication. To receive new posts and support my work, consider becoming a free or paid subscriber.
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We set aside one month each year to honor, recognize and celebrate Black history. It’s an opportunity to highlight the accomplishments of the Black community in a country where Black history is otherwise so often centered on Black pain, struggle and trauma.
This foregrounding of our pain has so many touch points in America, from what is taught in schools, to what is reported on the news, and what is created, monetized and consumed for entertainment. Recently I’ve been thinking a lot about the Black community’s history in this country and why I believe Black people have not received the empathy, recognition or reparations for which we have fought over the last hundred and fifty years. While we have made significant progress, there is one thing that has struck me: we as a collective do not and cannot have the documentation of what happened to our ancestors. There is simply no one around to confirm the truth.
My dad grew up on a plantation in Mississippi during World War II. He has told me what he remembers about his family history, but at a certain point his memories reach their limit and nothing else tangible exists that he can reference. This is the reality for the majority of Black Americans. While some journals have been uncovered, it pales in comparison to others’ genealogies. We as a community may never see the peace and acknowledgement we deserve because we have nothing to corroborate the atrocities that we know were committed. And while the accounts we do have are limited, personal testimonies can easily be refuted by someone who wants to erase the history that our ancestors actually lived.
I also realized that this is why so many people don’t respect plantations and the history that took place there. When the land where humans were owned, beaten, sold and treated like animals now regularly hosts weddings and get-togethers, it bears the question: does the history of this land matter? If so, why is it not preserved and honored with respect?
With the dismantling of DEI initiatives, the threat of having public school funding revoked if a school teaches history in a way this administration doesn’t like, and people refusing to atone for the past so we can move on, I have to ask: What does our future look like, how will our past be taught, and how will history remember us in this moment?
#WeNeedToTalk is a reader-supported publication. To receive new posts and support my work, consider becoming a free or paid subscriber.