By Lawrence Adjah

and Senait Tesfai

During a recent conversation with a classmate about the approaching Black History Month, I was asked, “Why does history have to be color-coded?” I responded, “It isn’t, nor it does it have to be, but since a major portion of our history went unaccounted on the basis of a group of people’s color, it is only right to fill in the blank white space with the black that should have inhabited it a while ago.” This person’s question did not surprise me. It just confirmed my belief that the history of black people has too often been seen as separate from the history of our nation, and, subsequently, skin color has indicated propriety over history when, in fact, all American history is equally all of Americans’ history.

History is defined as a chronological record of significant events. Yet the definition of history has changed due to the changing perceptions of what we deem significant. Unfortunately, black history has been placed more ornamentally at the surface then within the core of history. In the early 20th century, Dr. Carter G. Woodson, often referred to as the father of black history, believed that the Africana experience was worthy of inclusion within the annals of history, and he dedicated his life to validating the lives and achievements of black Americans. At a time when the black race was studied only as a burden to the nation, Woodson established the groundwork for the development of an analytical holism that justified the crafting of a methodology about the historical and cultural black experience. Still, the importance of his work did not lie latent in the study of the body historic. Its eminence existed in its willingness to question the tangential position of black humanity globally and highlight the racist motivations behind their peri-societal standing.

One of the major canvases of Woodson’s critique was the American education system. In one of his most influential pieces, The Miseducation of the Negro, he writes that it was not structured in a manner complimentary to the social condition of African-Americans. From the high-class educational institutions to the burgeoning “Negro” schools, the “Negro” was a nonentity. Thus, students, black and white, were “educated” to view blacks as inferior because they were not worth consideration in all the realms of their academic experience. From history to philosophy, anti-black propaganda took root, and black worth withered. This system of education festered on the grounds of educational authority, so it was difficult to perceive the negative effect of this system for blacks collectively. As more students were encouraged to make their “Marx” in the classroom, a subtle devaluation of black worth occurred alongside a hoisting of white life on the pedestal of social consciousness. This was a zero-sum game that reaffirmed the superior/inferior binary nature of the races. It was not only that the cultural and historical experiences of blacks were devalued; it was that this devaluation resulted in the displacement and segregation of black life and thought outside of the realms of what people deemed “American.”

Today, unfortunately, this displacement lives on in many ways. One of Woodson’s most telling comments is that the “mere imparting of information is not education.” Education is not a victim of history; instead, it has the power to mold ideas, values, beliefs and perceptions. Because most academic disciplines were developed when blacks were seen as subhuman and unworthy of consideration, much of the content we read today has grown out of that context and cannot be divorced from it. A people whose history had almost been completely overlooked by scholars and has slowly struggled to find its place within educational discourse still does not warrant the “common knowledge” stamp from many people today.

For example, if one looks at the Harvard College Curricular Review and the discourse leading up to it there has been little to no discussion about making the courses and the curricula of African and African-American studies central to every student’s experience at this university. Ironically, Woodson received his Ph.D. in history from Harvard. He was the second African-American to receive a Ph.D. from this University, and one of the few black Ph.Ds of his time. For that, and his work following his time here, there is no marker of it here on this campus., I probably would not have known he even attended Harvard unless I stumbled across it in a book—I guess his history here did not warrant much recognition from our University either.

Black History Month is both a gift and a curse. It pays proper respect to the distinct history of blacks within America, but it feeds into the delusional perception that black history is not American history. Even with Black History Month’s widespread recognition, we have not yet realized Woodson’s vision for America if not all Americans embrace black history as their own history. It is not about having a tributary course or a month to pacify concerned Black Americans. It is not about justifying or proving black history’s importance. Rather, the goal is to restore the grains of truth within the hourglass of our time as our true history continues to struggle to justify its existence. Each of us holds the pen of today, and we have the power to right our history as we will see it tomorrow. Black History Is Your History.

Lawrence Adjah ’06 is a social anthropology concentrator in Currier House. Senait Tesfai ’07 is a sociology concentrator in Cabot House. They are the president and the political action chair of the Black Students Association, respectively.