Black History Month is nearly 100 years old!  Granted, it began as Black History Week, on February 7, 1926, and didn’t become Black History Month until February 10, 1976.  My father, a Native Southern Son, was born in the same month and year, eight days later.

My father grew up in the segregated South.  As a teenager, he was drafted into the segregated U.S. Army to serve during World War II.  A couple of years after his discharge from the segregated U.S. Army in 1946, my father would make his way to Brooklyn, New York. During his lifetime, there were basically two reasons why Black folk left the South.  One, they were fleeing white violence or the threat of it, or two, they were seeking a better life.  Most times, it was a combination of the two.

My father never talked about his life growing up in the segregated South.  He was born in North Carolina and later would move to Virginia.  (I imagine he saw his share of disrespect and violence perpetrated by white folk against Black folk.)  Once he moved North, every year he would get in his Cadillac and travel down South around the Fourth of July weekend.  And although Frederick Douglass eloquently articulated what the Fourth of July meant to the Negro – not the glory of the stars and stripes, for which Black people fought without hesitation, from the very beginning of the founding of the nation, during the Revolutionary War – there was always hope that the nation would live up to her ideals.  Even W.E.B. DuBois believed that white folk would have to give Black folk their due because they put skin in the game, that is, fought with brave distinction in the Great Wars, but he was soon disillusioned and “went back to Africa.”

Africa was probably always calling DuBois to come home.  America has miserably failed in respecting Black humanity.  Given this white mindset, and the miseducation of the Negro, it was astonishing that Carter G. Woodson had the vision to celebrate the history and contributions of Black people in America, a mere 61 years after the end of the Civil War.  And what Black people accomplished was astonishing in light of all the forces mustered by white supremacists and segregationists to hold on to the way of life of the “Lost Cause,” and to keep Black people subjugated and “in their place.”

I often wonder if America will ever be a safe place for Black people.  I know it’s impossible for the divestiture of Black people’s gifts to America, the gift of sweat and brawn, the gift of story and song, and the gift of the spirit.  As Martin Luther King Jr. once dreamed, maybe one day the majority of white people will see that not only are Black folk the conscience of the nation, but Black folk are also the heart and soul of America.  These are among the many reasons to celebrate Black History Month, every month.

Happy Birthday to Black History Month!