Monday, July 14, 2003
TITLE: Is The Celebration Of Black History Month Really Important?
Given the choice, I opt not to celebrate Black History Month. Oh, it's not because I've gone "Uncle Tom" or am struggling with the notion of identifying myself with "the" culture. Rather, it has everything to do with what I've experienced and what I observe often within the black community. Comparatively, Black History Month isn't really anymore important than one's own choice to celebrate Christmas. For example, each December, have you noticed how significantly attitudes change? Meaning - shamefully cruel people suddenly change to being nice. Appalling attitudes magucally transform to being over tolerant. Even grocery store clerks seem to not mind when you get in their 10-item express lanes with thirty items. In other words, the bewitching effect of the yuletide aura is amazing! The month of February is no different.
During Black History Month, blacks seem to adopt a temporary facade of unity; while white people seem to mask a charitable pose of open-mindedness only waiting to exhale a sigh of relief for when it's all over. As a matter of fact, Iknow white people who deliberately find an activity to do with another black person in February, but, joked about it later saying, "I've done my good deed for the month." Then a few months afterwards, I've heard those same white people tell another black person a "nigger" joke. As a result, mixed acquaintanceships that do start out good don't last, eliminating any chance for eventual friendships. It's for those reasons why I strongly feel that genuine interracial "friendships" are mythical. However, proof of that is sadly most evident each week on Sunday mornings. It is the most segregated time in this nation.
Blacks, however, are just as bad. From March to January we talk badly about one another, we're still killing one another, we allow our undisciplined children to disrespect our elderly and the property of others, we are still out of control due to illegal drug activity and alcoholisml, we still boast the highest ratio of this nation's prison population, we still talk loud and act ignorant in public places, and we lead in illiteracy above all other races nationally. What's worse, it's too often the case that foot-shuffling bo-jangled grinning blacks who have their names stampled on the doors of corporate offices, feel less and less the need to reach back and help someone else. So, when I step aside and take inventory of black America, what is there to celebrate? Besides, after the month of March rolls in and then out, what have we accomplished as a result of eating a banquet of fried chicken, peppered chitterlings and corn bread while being entertained by an invited famous speaker as he/she echo false hopes and unreachable promises from a podium? After years of singing "Lift Every Voice And Sing...ringing with the harmonies of liberty", it has become a mere formality.
Don't misunderstand me. I enjoy singing, playing music and take pleasure in my spirit being moved by soul-stirring words while eating "soul" food, too. After all, at least the intent is good. But, the problem I have with it all is that the end result is always the same. Nothing changes. Or, maybe it's that I'm tired of being labeled. Or, maybe it's just that I've gotten to the place where I want to be identified simply as a human being and treated in the same manner.
In any case, regardless of my awakening to feeling less jubilant during the month of February, the reality still remains - we as an entire nation of black, white Asian, Hispanic and Native American folk have a long ways to go before we can hold hands in unity with a triumphant feeling that we've all overcome. And, it doesn't matter how often of what week or month we come together for a common cause; nor does it matter whether white people refuse or accept to come together with us for that cause. The reality is that there is much, too much, for black people to do alone, absent outside intervention, within the realm of our own culture. And the problems that face blacks in America today are not going to be resolved by coming together once a year during Black History Month.
But, as far as racial harmony is concerned, a good start for unification would be for each person to make it a matter of habit to invite someone who do not look like them to churh on Sunday morning. Because, frankly, I get enraged whenever I hear someone, whether black, Hispanic, white, Asian or Native American, call me "Brother" but, do not treat me like a "Brother." And, until we can all join hands and genuinely identify one another as "Brothers" and "Sisters" regardles of race, creed, disabilities or personal choices, and change "Black History Month" to something like "America United For Cultural Awareness Month", I feel no compelling desire to celebrate.
Given the choice, I opt not to celebrate Black History Month. Oh, it's not because I've gone "Uncle Tom" or am struggling with the notion of identifying myself with "the" culture. Rather, it has everything to do with what I've experienced and what I observe often within the black community. Comparatively, Black History Month isn't really anymore important than one's own choice to celebrate Christmas. For example, each December, have you noticed how significantly attitudes change? Meaning - shamefully cruel people suddenly change to being nice. Appalling attitudes magucally transform to being over tolerant. Even grocery store clerks seem to not mind when you get in their 10-item express lanes with thirty items. In other words, the bewitching effect of the yuletide aura is amazing! The month of February is no different.
During Black History Month, blacks seem to adopt a temporary facade of unity; while white people seem to mask a charitable pose of open-mindedness only waiting to exhale a sigh of relief for when it's all over. As a matter of fact, Iknow white people who deliberately find an activity to do with another black person in February, but, joked about it later saying, "I've done my good deed for the month." Then a few months afterwards, I've heard those same white people tell another black person a "nigger" joke. As a result, mixed acquaintanceships that do start out good don't last, eliminating any chance for eventual friendships. It's for those reasons why I strongly feel that genuine interracial "friendships" are mythical. However, proof of that is sadly most evident each week on Sunday mornings. It is the most segregated time in this nation.
Blacks, however, are just as bad. From March to January we talk badly about one another, we're still killing one another, we allow our undisciplined children to disrespect our elderly and the property of others, we are still out of control due to illegal drug activity and alcoholisml, we still boast the highest ratio of this nation's prison population, we still talk loud and act ignorant in public places, and we lead in illiteracy above all other races nationally. What's worse, it's too often the case that foot-shuffling bo-jangled grinning blacks who have their names stampled on the doors of corporate offices, feel less and less the need to reach back and help someone else. So, when I step aside and take inventory of black America, what is there to celebrate? Besides, after the month of March rolls in and then out, what have we accomplished as a result of eating a banquet of fried chicken, peppered chitterlings and corn bread while being entertained by an invited famous speaker as he/she echo false hopes and unreachable promises from a podium? After years of singing "Lift Every Voice And Sing...ringing with the harmonies of liberty", it has become a mere formality.
Don't misunderstand me. I enjoy singing, playing music and take pleasure in my spirit being moved by soul-stirring words while eating "soul" food, too. After all, at least the intent is good. But, the problem I have with it all is that the end result is always the same. Nothing changes. Or, maybe it's that I'm tired of being labeled. Or, maybe it's just that I've gotten to the place where I want to be identified simply as a human being and treated in the same manner.
In any case, regardless of my awakening to feeling less jubilant during the month of February, the reality still remains - we as an entire nation of black, white Asian, Hispanic and Native American folk have a long ways to go before we can hold hands in unity with a triumphant feeling that we've all overcome. And, it doesn't matter how often of what week or month we come together for a common cause; nor does it matter whether white people refuse or accept to come together with us for that cause. The reality is that there is much, too much, for black people to do alone, absent outside intervention, within the realm of our own culture. And the problems that face blacks in America today are not going to be resolved by coming together once a year during Black History Month.
But, as far as racial harmony is concerned, a good start for unification would be for each person to make it a matter of habit to invite someone who do not look like them to churh on Sunday morning. Because, frankly, I get enraged whenever I hear someone, whether black, Hispanic, white, Asian or Native American, call me "Brother" but, do not treat me like a "Brother." And, until we can all join hands and genuinely identify one another as "Brothers" and "Sisters" regardles of race, creed, disabilities or personal choices, and change "Black History Month" to something like "America United For Cultural Awareness Month", I feel no compelling desire to celebrate.
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