Don’t celebrate black history this month

Shane Wade
Opinion Editor

I’m more excited about being able to buy Girl Scout cookies this month than it being Black History Month.

Ever since elementary school, I never felt comfortable with Black History Month. Morning disc jockeys would shoot out fast facts for me to later forget; all the posters in the classroom would be substituted with black historial figures; the morning announcements would be accompanied by a rhythmic drumming and another fact about a little-known African-American. It all felt artificial, forced and even oppressive.

Black History Month is a fading relic. Its foundation by Carter Woodson (as just a week) in 1926 was born out of a justified fear that the history of African-Americans and contributions of slaves would be forgotten by students. But now, we should question its relevance.

The argument in favor of a Black History Month draws back to the origins of its foundations. It predicates on the fear that if black history were integrated into American history, it would become abbreviated and dishonestly told.

But that fear doesn’t recognize the awkward offense left in the mouths of black schoolchildren when a teacher casts a side-glance at them when asking about a black inventor. It ignores the token aftertaste of spoon-fed facts about obscure African-Americans. Furthermore, that legitimate fear hasn’t grown to recognize the emerging fact that all of American history is becoming inappropriately abbreviated.

Our public school systems are, and historically have been, inefficient at educating students to levels of proficiency in history. An NPR article from June of last year recounts how a news story appears every 10 years demarking American students for their poor performance in history class. The most recent report found that a “federal test revealed only 20 percent of fourth graders were ‘proficient’ in history.

By definition, black history is American history. Without Blacks, there would be no America. Black slaves literally and figuratively built America, economically and structurally. To separate the two histories would be akin to re-dividing a nation and misremembering an ugly history that involved the worst kind of human suffering.

It is nonsense to devote a separate month to a conjoined history. The best method of teaching history is to teach it as a chronological, inclusive story, not as segmented parts, divisible for monthly discussion.

Pandering and paternalistic observances like Black History Month don’t help to end racism or repair the racial rifts still apparent in America; instead they perpetuate and give breath to a dying history. It awkwardly reminds us of our “differences” and rarely brings about discussions that positively work to improve race relations in America. It’s debatable whether ignoring issues of race will improve racial tensions, but constant reminders weaken the ties we build. There’s more to me than the color of my skin, and I don’t need to be reminded of it in order to remember my ancestral history.

Emphasizing the remarkable and praiseworthy accomplishments of African-Americans should not be limited to a month. That leads to us becoming lax in our treatment of the subject once the month is over.

I would have the celebratory month not ended, but rather extended and better incorporated into current public school curriculum. Just as every student must learn about every war America has fought, every economic crisis, every Constitutional amendment, so must they learn about the other side of American history.

Teach them about the Tulsa Race Riots. Educate them about how inventions by Black Americans supplemented industries. Tell them of how men and women struggled, sacrificed and died for the inalienable rights given to them by a Creator, but denied to them by a government.

Just like Dr. King, Black History Month’s founder Carter G. Woodson had a dream: He hoped that “the history of African-Americans would become an integral part of American history and would be observed throughout the year.” His dream has been forestalled long enough. I don’t want to be put on a special pedestal once a year; I just want to be on the same level as everyone else, year-round.

Girl Scout cookies come once a year; celebrating the history of Black Americans shouldn’t.