I'll Take Mine Black, Thank You!

And here we are once again celebrating Black History Month.

There are some Black people that are not fans of black history month. Some complain that it's the shortest month of the year. Others feel that we, as Black people don't need the attention and we should just move on—assimilation complete. Then there are those like actor, Morgan Freeman, who feel that it's "an insult" framing it as a way of confining Black Americans history to one month. He believes our history should be recognized as a part of the full national story.

I get what Morgan and others are saying, and I agree. Blacks are a part of American history. It should just simply be: history. The problem is the authors. Those who keep track of the history. And sadly, those who rewrite history. Editors abound, unfortunately.

Years ago I was with my mother when she received an early copy of a history text book to be used in high schools. (I forget which province). My mother was asked to write a Forward. She flipped through the pages. When she got to a section where she should have seen her name and her feat of running for the leadership of the National New Democratic Party...there was nothing. She nearly won the nomination. She would have been the first Black woman to do so. That would have put my mother in line with running for Prime Minister of the country! But in the book, that would teach the youngest and brightest, and perhaps tomorrow's leaders...zip...zilch...nothing about my mother, Rosemary Brown.

She spoke slowly but with force, "You see son, this is what they do. They rewrite history, and this time they're writing me out of it. It starts with textbooks, then other books, universities and so on. That is why we can never stop reminding people, writing it down and marching and shouting about our accomplishments. Our achievements. Your generation must keep it going after mine is gone. Do not ever let them write us out of history."

My mother and I were quiet for a very long time after that. She sighed heavily, and pulled her glasses off. I remember her pinching the bridge of her nose. I felt helpless. Helpless and angry. These are my people. This is me. And this is my mother, god damn it. I was furious! And to think these fools had asked her for a Forward!

My mother, later sent an eloquent letter pointing out the error. Memory escapes how it played out, but the message stuck to me like glue. Although I agree with M. Freeman and others, I personally will take February, or any month as Black History Month. It comes around once a year and works, at the very least, like a notification on your phone. "Say pal, don't forget about us," said the month of February. One month is a start. A place holder, and we need it. If we bullet Black History Month, ain't nuthin' gonna be remembered within twenty minutes. Are you kidding me? In this time of short attention span and lack of interest? I'll take February. Let's keep it.

It's honored in different ways across this great nation. Libraries do their part, museums, there are parades, talks, replays of Martin Luther King's, "I Have A Dream Speech," and more. One month...a healthy reminder. Let's hang on to it, because it's incredibly easy to be washed from the books, rewritten on the web and simply forgotten by new generations. That's my hot, yet no so heavy take on Black History Month. Thanks for reading!