To Truly Address Today's Racism, We Must First Face Our Past

For me, learning Black history wasn’t just about discovering what happened in the past. It was about understanding my present reality and predicting my future.

Based on the stats, I shouldn't have even graduated high school, let alone attended college on a full scholarship, gone on to get an MBA and become a college professor. That shouldn't have been in my future at all.

My high school was 91% Black. 88% of the students were considered economically disadvantaged and 83% qualified for free lunch. I was in that 83%. I barely managed to score the 1000 on the SAT I needed to gain admission to the University of Florida. But my GPA was over 4.0 and I graduated fifth in a class of over 200. I attended UF on a full academic merit scholarship.

My teachers instilled in me the confidence that I could do anything. And I believed them. Regardless of the ragged, torn textbooks in our classrooms or the drug dealers on the corner outside the school, our teachers told us we were descendants of kings and queens. I believed that, too!

During my junior year of high school, I took an African American studies class. I read books that opened my mind and my spirit: “The Autobiography of Malcolm X” as told to Alex Haley, “I Know Why the Caged Bird Sings” by Maya Angelou, and “The Miseducation of the Negro” by Carter G. Woodson.

But two books in particular had the most impact on me: “The Isis Papers” by Frances Cress Welsing and “The African Origin of Civilization” by Cheikh Anta Diop. Those books changed my life.

Seeing pictures of ancient African civilizations as old as time itself helped me to reflect on myself for the very first time in a way I never had before. Who was I? Where was I really from? I asked myself those questions and realized I didn’t really know. I knew my address. But what was my ancestry?

Learning the truth about my history set me free from a narrative I had believed my entire life based on my surroundings: that life would always be harder for me and that I was destined to struggle.

Instead, I embraced the possibility that life encompassed more than I could see around me and that my legacy was greatness and hope, rather than hopelessness and pain.

The brilliant author and activist Maya Angelou expressed it best when she said, “I have great respect for the past. If you don't know where you've come from, you don't know where you're going.”

Studying and attempting to understand implicit bias, racial inequity, systemic racism, lack of diversity and inclusion in the workplace, and the racial wealth gap in America is admirable. Attempting to fix these problems is even better. There is a reason I had to step over crack pipes on the sidewalk outside my high school, and it wasn’t because my parents were lazy or failed to pull themselves up by their bootstraps.

There is a reason my school suffered from a lack of resources, overburdened teachers and not enough guidance counselors, and it wasn’t because none of those Black parents cared or didn’t want better for their children.

But, like Maya Angelou, I am a strong proponent in the idea that there is no way to understand why we are where we are, as a country, without having the historical context to put events and phenomena into perspective.

Why is racial profiling by police so common? Why is Black voter suppression an issue and how long has that been going on? Why is there a racial wealth gap?

Why are there still neighborhoods that are predominantly inhabited by Black people, with Black schools but no Black businesses? And what role does the practice of redlining, housing discrimination and loan discrimination, both for homes and businesses, play when we see this happening around us?

We can answer these questions by studying the history of America.

What was Africa like before colonization? Did ancient African civilizations have literature, art and music? Did Africans sell each other into slavery? Did the human race originate in Africa?

We can answer these questions by studying the history of Africa.

History and literature tell us a great deal about who we are. They show us where we come from and what ideas have shaped the way we think. History and literature explain the paths we’ve taken. They help us understand the great accomplishments we’ve achieved. They also describe the mistakes we’ve made in the hopes we won’t make those mistakes again.

After I graduated from the University of Florida, I began to work as an 8th grade American History teacher. Years later, I became an American literature college professor. In my two decades working in education, I’ve seen how historical and literary narratives can inform our critical thinking, our perspectives on our country and the rest of the world, and how they can help shape the future of our nation.

There is no national curriculum or set of standards for teaching Black history in America. Only a handful of states — including Arkansas, Florida, Illinois, Mississippi and New York — require that it be taught in public schools.

A recent CBS News analysis found that seven states don't even mention slavery in their state education standards. Eight states don't mention the Civil Rights Movement at all. Only two states’ standards specifically address white supremacy, and 16 states list "states’ rights" as a cause of the Civil War.

Reflecting on what has happened over the past year, from the George Floyd murder to the insurrection at the Capitol, spurred me to develop and launch my own learning platform to educate people about African history and literature, African American history and literature and diversity, equity and inclusion.

There are also many excellent resources across the internet, including:

·        https://centerracialjustice.org/resources/black-history-month-resource-guide-for-educators-and-families/

·        https://www.facinghistory.org/resource-library/resources-black-history-month

·        https://nmaahc.si.edu/blog-post/knowing-past-opens-door-future-continuing-importance-black-history-month

·        https://www.nytimes.com/interactive/2019/08/14/magazine/1619-america-slavery.html

Taking the first step to knowledge and learning can be a journey to true understanding, allyship and action.

Black boxes on Instagram won’t change America. Performative actions, sympathetic statements of support on company websites or likes on a social media post won’t bring about lasting change.

The only thing that really brings about significant change is the acknowledgement of what needs to be changed and a plan to make that change happen. Understanding how we got to where we are is an important part of that journey.

Like any change that we make in life, the first step involves a long, hard look in the mirror. How exactly did we get to where we are now?

Once we have done that, we need to commit to meaningful and measurable change and create a path of action. It won’t happen overnight, but it can happen. We each have a role to play in making our country and the world around us a better place.

As an educator, I’m a huge believer in the idea that true knowledge is power. The only question I have is once you have that that power, what will you do with it?

 This article is a part of #ConversationsForChange, a series by LinkedIn News that highlights the career journeys of Black professionals in the U.S. Join the conversation using #ConversationsForChange and follow our comprehensive coverage here.