This is Black History Month. When I was growing up, it was Black History Week, started in 1926 by Carter G. Woodson. All told, Black history recognition is 100 years old this month. 100!
It became a month-long observance in 1976 as part of the U.S. Bicentennial, and Congress officially recognized Black History Month in 1986. After that, in the next 20 or so years, the other celebratory months followed.
All the jokes about “our month” being the shortest are wrong. “Oh, we’re given Black History Month, but they made sure it was the shortest month.” Not true. That narrative takes away from the creativity and innovation behind Black History Week, which spent over 50 years building momentum to become part of the US Bicentennial and to gain legislation recognizing the month—the template for all the other “___ History Months.”
Black History Week was the second week of February, honoring the birthdays of Abraham Lincoln and Frederick Douglass. Over the past week—the traditional Black History Week—I’ve been reflecting on my own Black history. It’s a complicated time for underrepresented minorities. I’m more aware than ever that I’m integrating white spaces one room at a time.
I really lacked the social capital and energy to mingle at a Lunar New Year party. I went, but ultimately sat off in a corner as I passed table after table and groups of revelers, with no one inviting me in. I know what to do—you have to present multiple faces to see which one will fit in—and on Thursday, my code-switching ability was on hiatus.
It’s a lovely thought: “Be yourself.” I’ve lived long enough to know that “be yourself” can mean “be by yourself.” That’s fine, too.
I went to my quarterly happy spot on Friday night, A Beautiful Resistance. One of the questions the host, Jeneé Osterheldt, asked one of her guests, Sheena Collier, was: “What is your responsibility as a transplant to Boston?”
Find your tribe—or create it. My aha moment: going to any kind of lecture, theater, performance, or museum, I’m going to be in the midst of my people, my tribe. Something like A Beautiful Resistance ups the ante—your tribe plus shared history.
It’s been a joyful week: jazz piano class on Monday, a really meaningful conversation on Tuesday after a lecture at the Athenaeum, and Friday night at A Beautiful Resistance, where I got to snap a selfie with a brilliant creator I follow on Instagram. This video—so perfect. I envisioned that one day I would just run into this brilliant kid. Check out Made by Mojo, either on YouTube or Instagram. You want hope for the future? Here it is. Pure joy.
This week, consider social capital and what it means to be yourself. Cheerfully reflect on what energizes you. Maybe think about how you manage the great unknowns, your tribe, and your tribe’s shared history.
Balancing on Unstable Surfaces 