This op-ed is the first in a series on Black History Month.

While most black students at Harvard experience more racial tension than Harvard’s “Kum-bay-yah” image would suggest, even the most skeptical among us must acknowledge that the racial climate at Harvard is much improved from the times of our parents’ generation, and is a far cry from the negative realities that many less privileged black people face all over the world.

Yet the increasingly accepting racial attitudes at Harvard and elsewhere still affect black students in several unintended ways. For many, such attitudes reduce the importance of, or need for, the black community. While I have often been approached by those outside our community in awe of our seemingly impenetrable solidarity, in reality, that monolith—diverse as it is—only represents a fraction of black students at Harvard. No longer denied social and extracurricular opportunities within the greater Harvard community, many black students feel little need to associate with other blacks. This dynamic creates a schism within the mainstream, meeting-going, event-attending black community, which debates how hard it should work to include such individuals.

Of course, other points of tension remain, such as the concept of black identity, especially now that Harvard’s black students come from every corner of the African Diaspora and level of the socioeconomic ladder. Celebrating Black History Month is no longer as simple as paying homage to a few Black American leaders or addressing the problems of urban America, because those issues are no longer of universal significance within the black community, as many feel unable to relate to a “shared” experience of historical struggle. At Harvard, an increasing number of students are wealthy elites, whose immense privilege has insulated them from suffering due to race, or first- and second-generation African immigrants, who possess ties to a different history and different problems.

But even the most privileged among us cannot escape the realities facing black communities worldwide: AIDS in Botswana and Baltimore, huge incarceration rates of black males in America, or depressed economies and failed governments in Haiti. Each of these issues sparks dialogue and debate, forcing us to consider our responsibility as the black intellectual elite to help solve these problems. Notions of W.E.B. DuBois’ “talented tenth” persist, and every academic year starts with a prerequisite discussion of our great obligation as black Harvard students to effect change.

Despite endless discussion, however, internal skepticism still remains about our intention to address the problems of the black community. The grassroots activists among us question the motives of those who seek opportunities in the corporate world, while the pragmatists argue that only by accessing the levers of power can we have real impact. After countless debates, we have resigned ourselves to the fact that each will choose his or her own path in advancing the cause.

Yet even this individualist ethos frustrates some, who mourn the loss of black solidarity and dream instead of the impact we could have if we united around one plan to improve our community. Still others reject this brand of political activism entirely and contend that the black community should refrain from any political stance, lest we alienate those who differ from the mainstream.

Despite these myriad disagreements within the community, February marks a moment of unity for blacks on campus, as we collaborate for Black History Month to produce a series of lectures, dinners, screenings, discussions, and of course, celebrations, on topics as diverse as Nile river reclamation, politics in Liberia, black media and consumerism, misogyny in hip-hop, and increased faculty diversity.

Our effort to address the diverse and complex issues of the black community will certainly begin to dispel the myth of the monolith, but it also will spark more questions, conversations, and debate about who our identity and relation to world around us. And these questions gain special significance during this month—Black History Month—when we recommit ourselves to working towards a day when black history, culture, and the black experience(s) are discussed 365 days a year, not just by us, but by everyone in the Harvard community.

The diversity and dynamism of the black community warrants consideration not just to counter notions of its homogeneity, but also because black students—as your peers, your classmates, your student leaders, and your future faculty, businessman, and world leaders—are fundamentally connected to students from the myriad other communities on Harvard’s campus. And is a connection that we hope that all students—not just within the black community—will begin to explore.

Jason C. B. Lee ’08 is an economics concentrator in Leverett House. He is president of the Harvard Black Students Association.