CARLTON FLETCHER: Longing for a real Black History Month moment

How many roads must a man walk down, Before you call him a man? — Bob Dylan

This is the time of year you hear disgruntled, boorish people whine things like, “Why do they get a Black History Month? We don’t get no White History Month. There shouldn’t be such a thing.”

To a point, I agree. There should be no Black History Month. Because there shouldn’t be a need for one.

But because “We the People” have a tendency to lean on our Constitution when it’s convenient and ignore it when it doesn’t suit our needs, only a person blind to reality could argue that in America, there is precious little evidence that “all men are created equal” and “endowed by their creator with certain inalienable rights.”

There is a Black History Month because throughout the country’s history, a large part of the population has ignored the accomplishments of African Americans or, in so many cases, has gamed the system to claim those accomplishments as their own, reaping the benefits that were not rightfully theirs.

And that claim about there being no “White History Month?” Oh, yes, we have that. We just call it American History.

Sadly, though, our Black History Month “celebrations” are typically relegated to a few Public Service Announcements on TV about “heroes” who have been deemed suitable for white consumption. And, certainly, these larger-than-life individuals are usually worthy of admiration and their place in history.

But there are so many black Americans who, primarily because of their skin color but also their forced poverty, are ignored or forgotten. And their legacies are frequently lost to the generations that have followed.

Many of the Black History Month celebrations are planned by — and benefit — whites who have perfected the art of touching on topics that allow them access to people hungry for the stories of their heroes to be told. The results often are white-washed events that add almost nothing to the conversation and end up lining these greedy individuals’ pockets.

I would be willing to bet that an overwhelming majority of African Americans would gladly do away with Black History Month if the true stories of their past were incorporated into their rightful place in American history. Instead, though, they have to pass these stories down by word-of-mouth to assure that there is a level of accuracy that is negated when they to allow their history to be co-opted by others.

People who have no idea what it is like to suffer — to be physically harmed, to be cheated out of everything from jobs to education to their right to just exist as men and women — simply because of the color of their skin cannot understand the “black experience,” no matter how “enlightened” they proclaim themselves to be when it comes to race relations. So many of these people are quick to point out the number of “black friends” they have, apparently unable to grasp how condescending it is to refer to another human being by skin color rather than his or her humanity.

I too celebrate Black History Month in February, not as some white liberal token response to prove “wokeness.” No, I celebrate the struggle of people I respect and love — people who have openly offered the same in return, people who have overcome the frequent hardship of simply being black in America and proved themselves to be the kind of great Americans we all aspire to be.

I stand amazed that in the year 2023, we still have people for whom judgement of fellow human beings is based on such trivialities as skin color, religious affiliation or accumulated wealth. To these people I recommend that you not donate to this group or that so that you can win some kind of “spirit” or “brotherhood” recognition that looks good on a resume but does absolutely nothing to change hearts. Instead, I suggest you sit and imagine what it’s like to have someone “own” you, to try and comprehend being arrested or harassed because you don’t look like the majority of people around you.

That is a Black History Month moment worth celebrating.