February 23, 1995
February. Why is the shortest month of the year the one in which to celebrate and commemorate African American history?
Is there a message buried within the reasoning?
Acknowledging our ancestry during this stunted month leaves me with a bittersweet taste upon my palate.
On the sweet side, I ignore the political reasoning for why Black History Month is celebrated in February. Let us glorify, remember and revere the present as well as past struggles of Black people regardless.
On the bitter side, however, this month and the lack of its acknowledgement by society at large compares to the ill treatment inflicted upon an unwanted and abused child. Nobody talks about it; nobody wants to take responsibility for it. Most ignore or are blind to the pain and anguish that the child is feeling.
That child is my people.
A people that were brought here by the hand of not only Europeans, but Africans as well; and who today, walk down the street of any and every major city in the United States, displaced.
We are displaced in a country that did not have us in mind as equal partners in its master plan. We were not the only ones exploited for the gain of Europeans. Native Americans had their land stripped like layers of skin -- peeled back mercilessly by whites with no regard for the sanctity of their land or bodies.
It is 1995, and even today my people are still slaves.
The chains of financial, educational, political and judicial oppression are what keep us in bondage.
The years of discrimination and its debilitating mental and emotional effects are at the root of why many African-American people seem unable to overcome the hardships of today that were inflicted upon our ancestors yesterday.
It's as if there's a tractor beam of pain sucking us back to the days on the plantation when the overseer would yell from his horse, "you niggers ain't never been nothin' and you ain't gonna be."
When I see my brothers killing each other and our women selling themselves short calling each other bitches, I wonder if the words of the overseer sunk in so deeply that we have been unable to shed, like the skin of a snake, the self hatred beaten and whipped into the very fiber of our being.
I wonder if recognizing our history during the shortest month of the year in some way again speaks to the "settling for less" mentality that we had to embrace in order for us to maintain our sanity back on the plantation and on up through desegregation and integration.
Were we duped? Was integration the answer?
When I look at how my people remain clamped in the chains of financial, educational and political bondage, I can't help but wonder: Should we have remained largely independent of white corporate society, building on our already existing pre-integregation businesses and schools, thereby having an African American controlled financial base in which to grow?
From a base such as I mentioned, strands of political power could begin to strengthen and grow through black businesses lobbying for legislation -- thereby enabling our community to gain and retain a measure of national and world-wide respect.
This respect could aid in countering the many stereotypes put on black people. For example, stereotypes have contributed to blacks being disproportionately incarcerated and sentenced to death.
To celebrate Black History Month is to celebrate struggle, courage, perseverance and culture. Twenty-eight days will never suffice, but at least 31 would be nice. Peace, 5000 G.
Editors note: 5000 G means "5000 black legislators by the year 2000. The "G" works as an explanation point," according to the author.