As Black History Awareness Month progresses, our country ought to reflect with pride on the advances that have been made in creating opportunities for African-Americans. Today, less than 50 years after Dr. Martin Luther King Jr.’s resounding call to action, our nation has responded with unprecedented efforts to narrow the racial divide in educational opportunities, revitalize inner-city neighborhoods, and encourage minorities to participate in government. Indeed, it is expected that on Feb. 10, Senator Barack H. Obama will formally announce his candidacy for the White House, possibly paving the way for the first African-American to receive a major political party’s nomination for president.

Yet, despite our considerable progress, my recent experience volunteering along the Mississippi Gulf Coast has confirmed for me that our work on the racial front is hardly complete. In Biloxi, Gulfport, and throughout the entire Gulf Coast, the differences between racial groups in terms of outlook, opportunities, and outcomes are striking and dramatic. Throughout the month of January, I spent time volunteering in Biloxi, Mississippi, modestly helping this devastated Gulf Coast community redevelop, a year and a half after Hurricane Katrina.

The Gulf Coast that I saw was one where the wealthy slowly rebuild, while the poor (who overwhelmingly are racial minorities) watch helplessly from their makeshift FEMA trailers—their own solution to the housing crisis that still exists. This is a land where wealthy speculators purchase coastal land at upwards of one million dollars an acre, and where—just a few miles away—public housing recipients fend off efforts by local and state officials to dislodge them from their homes. This is a place where redeveloped casinos—opened only months after Katrina—glitter along the coastline and reap profits off eager gamblers, while rural African American residents still struggle to replace the schools that were destroyed by Katrina.

Unfortunately, the Gulf Coast is not unique in this plight of the "Two Americas." If the Gulf Coast is distinctive, it is so only in that the region has attracted media attention in the wake of Katrina. Yet, despite the rhetoric about advances over the past 50 years, the problems of discrepant opportunities and resources still run rampant. In this vein, educational and employment opportunities for racial minorities still lag well behind those available to the privileged.

Perhaps no point shows the plight of the two Americas better than this: In 1920, black Americans owned 20 million acres of farm land. Today, black Americans in the south own one million acres of land. That corresponds to a 95 percent loss of land in three generations. While arguments can be made that these residents simply "got up and left," the impetus for this move is obviously connected to local racism for some, and for others, to a lack of financial support at the local and state level by governments which favored white landowners, especially farmers.

My recent experience along the Gulf Coast has reconfirmed for me that we, as a united nation, have much work ahead if we truly dream of an America where all people have a chance to succeed. It is simply untenable to believe that the disparities in opportunity across racial lines will be eradicated by wishful thinking, or even by the election of a black president—which according to a recent Newsweek poll, only 56 percent of registered voters think is possible. In the end, the responsibility to equalize race in America, however difficult or humbling, lies upon us all.

In this regard, legislators ought to harness the momentum of Black History Month to find funding for vocational education programs, ensure inner-city schools have adequate facilities, and provide recovery grants for those still reeling from Katrina. Our nation’s corporate leaders should do their part by providing incentives for employees to improve their education levels by offering vocational programs, and should seek to create a meaningful diverse work environment. The highest educational institutions in this country should harness the power of their faculty and students to find innovative solutions to one of our most vexing and pervasive problems.

But, most importantly, the responsibility in addressing this problem lies with us, as individuals. We—especially as members of Harvard University—should volunteer our time and energy to local causes. I have witnessed firsthand the awe that the name Harvard University inspires in communities and community leaders. The name and mystique of Harvard invokes thoughts of what was previously unthinkable. For example, in Biloxi, organizations that had given up on "impossible" projects suddenly became much more invigorated about the project’s prospects just knowing that Harvard students would be volunteering their time. By offering our services, we can empower these communities and make a lasting imprint.

The spirit of volunteerism can make tremendous headway in addressing and solving some of the most basic disparities between racial groups. In this vein, we ought to recognize February—and the message behind Black History Awareness month—by planning the work ahead of ourselves, rather than only appreciating our past achievements.

Jason P. Mehta is a third-year student at Harvard Law School. In January, he volunteered at the Mississippi Center for Justice in Biloxi, Mississippi.