Every Month is Black History Month
Most Americans are aware of Black History Month. Children are likely to learn about an annotated PG version of black history, like “treating others as equals” and that Martin Luther King Jr. and Rosa Parks were important people for encouraging others to do what is “right” and spread “kindness”. If you’re an adult you may notice things in your community signifying this month, like street banners, library displays and signage, and perhaps even a tasteless capitalistic sales campaign in retail. At some point or another we all learn this month exists and we know it’s meant to celebrate black history. Is that our sole engagement with this celebrated month? What happens if we continue learning beyond the compact manufactured boxes that we are shoved into?
My first bittersweet taste of real life began as an undergrad student in 2011. After taking multiple art history and history courses, I stumbled into an ethnic studies class that focused on African American history in the United States, post-Reconstruction. That brief yet rich period of time changed my life. I began embracing my black heritage unapologetically and never looked back.
As an Art History major, I couldn’t help but wonder, “where is the representation?” Most history that was covered remained Eurocentric and focused on the fair-skinned cultures, leaving those with darker complexions to fade into the darkness as servants or slaves. This wasn’t an isolated issue in the art history realm, and this theme still reverberates throughout U.S. history books in K-12 curriculum and in higher education textbooks. Limited single-perspective stories have been at the forefront until recently, as society’s social unrest continues to burst at the seams.
In 2015, I began working as a gallery guide at a museum that focused on art, history and culture as related to the African diaspora and African American experience. As election year approached with two of the most controversially disliked candidates in history, our institution quickly became a safe space for those who needed to unload pent-up tension and to express themselves. We welcomed patrons from all over the world to see our small, yet robust exhibits.
One thing I noticed while working there was that foot traffic was extremely slow during the week. Sure, the museum could use a facelift externally, but the permanent collection and loaned pieces were extraordinary gems. The museum boasted sculptures and mixed media from local black artists native to Los Angeles that spanned 5 decades, historically significant paintings from the early 19th century, and African ritual objects and ephemera. Collectively, the museum should’ve been seeing more visitors in a city with such deep black roots such as Los Angeles. Why was the museum only crowded during Black History Month?
One quiet afternoon between tours, a wrinkle-faced Caucasian woman approached the front desk with her husband leisurely following behind her and asked, “Excuse me, where is the feel-good art?” I quickly exchanged sharp glances with the other gallery guide, unable to respond. “I’m sorry…?” the guide asked dumbfoundedly in disbelief of the shrewd woman’s blatantly ignorant question. The woman paused and continued to hold a blank stare. “The art that makes you feel good. This is all kind of sad and depressing, and we’re wondering if there’s anything else here.” The guide so graciously responded, “Not all art is meant to feel good…these are artist’s representations. These are the only galleries we have.” The woman muttered something as she turned around to her husband and left the museum. It was there, between the African masks and the tattered inverted American flag projection, among touring middle school students from South Central and black LA natives, within those sound-proof climate-controlled walls, that I truly respected and championed the notion of black representation in art, art history and history in general.
Art is meant to invoke feeling. There are plenty of art galleries and museums sprinkled throughout Los Angeles that solely focus on “feel good art”. The reality is that the historical and ongoing narrative of people of color is hardly ever rainbows and sunshine. There is bloodshed, oppression and pain buried in each corner and crevice of every page in our history books. These overlooked events and untold stories must be unearthed and discussed if we ever want to begin to wholeheartedly understand the complex, tainted history of our great nation. We must acknowledge the people who built our bustling cities and brought rich and vibrant culture to our theatrical stages and streets. We must recognize the contributions of black culture in our music, our cuisine, our fashion, our language, and to society as a whole.
For many Americans 2020 was a year of turmoil and social unrest. For others it was a period of cultural enlightenment, or a time of proverbial ignorance. What I have noticed above all else, is that more people of all ages and backgrounds are taking a step in acknowledging and speaking out against the systematic oppression that has been embedded within our country for centuries. Although the reality of our nation can be painful, nothing is more painful than actively choosing to turn a cheek and ignore the facts that marginalized peoples have been confronting for so long.
January often signifies new beginnings. February is on the horizon, and so are the countless Martin Luther King Jr. quotes and Rosa Parks portrait cut-outs. Would you believe me if I told you that 92 years before Rosa Parks refused to give up her seat on a bus, women such as Charlotte L. Brown and Mary Ellen Pleasant were denied seats on San Francisco street cars, filed lawsuits and won? Both of their hard-fought cases changed city policy but Pleasant’s bold case was even more remarkable because of the outcome: it went all the way to the California Supreme Court and enacted a ban on streetcar segregation…in 1893!
History can be dense and daunting, but cultural institutes and art museums lend a hand in making that information more tangible and digestible for everyone. Art museums are unique in that artists visually tell their stories, allowing those of any racial background to feel, experience and understand their perspective or ideas. There are many FREE events and lectures available to the public that go beyond the typical hum-drum gallery walk through that not many people take advantage of. Even during museum closures and isolation during the COVID-19 pandemic, most libraries and educational departments and organizations have made momentous efforts to create and provide access to digital content that is readily available at your fingertips.
My experience as a mixed woman of color is different than my beautiful dark-skinned sibling, and is also different than my older Haitian male friend or my black queer colleague. Prominent black artists, inventors, activists, entrepreneurs, musicians, among other fields, all have a diverse set of experiences that are relevant and deserve to occupy space in exhibitions, catalogues, textbooks and conversation, just as their white counterparts have for decades. I encourage you to take the time in January or even March to engage with a black art museum or cultural institution. If you have children, seek out one or two other historical or contemporary figures in February so they can share with their classmates. You don’t need to become a professional historian to learn one or two new things about black culture. If you don’t know where to begin, a used book store or the internet are great starting points. Libraries in metropolitan areas or museums will more than likely have some accessible content available online. Learning one new idea or concept that you can share with someone else is aides in expanding black narratives.
Fear sprouts from ignorance. When we take the time to discuss and celebrate black culture, we create more exposure to those who deny and religiously live to be uninformed, therefore increasing the chances of ceasing hate speech, racism and negativity towards marginalized groups. Awareness is the first step in understanding things we might have not noticed before. We are a melting pot, a single unique nation that is woven from complex and vibrant fabrics. At the end of the day, we are all human and share similar human experiences and feelings. There is indeed precious value in experiencing a brief moment of silence to listen to someone else’s perspective…you never know what you might learn and potentially carry with you in life.
