Afraid of losing power. Afraid of facing the consequences of their own actions. Afraid of a future where they and people who look like them are no longer the default “Americans.”
I’m bringing back this post from last February because it feels frighteningly relevant.
Until the Lion Tells the Story, Village Green/Town² 2/25/2024
The other evening I found myself drawn in to a documentary film on public television entitled “Finding Fellowship.” It’s the story of a community in Maryland that doesn’t exist anymore, called Quince Orchard. From the film’s website:
FINDING FELLOWSHIP, BUILDING COMMUNITY
How can a community that evolved for more than 100 years only carry on in the memories of a few surviving members? This story is personal to us because we are descendants of this place – our family has lived here since the Civil War. But it’s relevant to you too, wherever you live. There are countless Quince Orchards all across the country. Communities that no longer exist on the map, not because of economic stagnation, but because of progress.
As I watched the film I was reminded of the efforts of our own local historians of Ellicott City Black History. There’s something deeply poignant about the desire to unearth and protect the stories of people who have been traditionally forgotten or even mischaracterised by the (largely white) writers of history books. One only has to watch the reactions on the Finding Your Roots television series to see how profound an effect each revelation of their past has on Black participants.
They are the reactions of people whose history has been suppressed.
Often there’s a sense that Black History month dwells largely on bigger-than-life heroes. Every year the same culturally approved scholars, inventors, small business owners, and inspirational politicians are trotted out in BHM curriculum materials. It is well meaning, I guess. But there’s a sort of breathless amazement about it - - Gosh, did you know Black people could be inventors? Be brave? Be really, really smart? It almost seems to be an exercise in silently asserting that most Black folks aren’t anything like that, so let’s all be surprised.
Every dang year.
The older I get, the more I see Black History Month as a reminder that we haven’t and still don’t value Black lives enough that a Black History Month isn’t necessary. Think of how long the former students of the Harriet Tubman School had to fight to preserve their school and the stories it contains about segregation and systemic racism here in Howard County. Think of how hard Marlena Jareaux/Howard County Lynching Truth and Reconciliation have had to push uphill to be heard and gain even a small modicum of acceptance for their historical work.
“Until the lion learns how to write, every story will glorify the hunter.” - - Chinua Achebe, Things Fall Apart, in 1958.
The real story of Black History Month to me is the longstanding erasure of American human beings simply because they were Black. That is why the film Finding Fellowship truly moved me. It is history told by people who respect their subjects and care about getting it right. It’s not about superheroes or major court cases or military victories. It’s about a small, once segregated Maryland town and three churches.
If you get a chance to see Finding Fellowship, I hope you will take the time. It’s not splashy. It draws you in gently, like stories told on a front porch or a quiet sermon that leads you to insights you hadn’t yet been able to see.
*****
The older I get, the more I see Black History Month as a reminder that we haven’t and still don’t value Black lives enough that a Black History Month isn’t necessary.
Silencing Black History Month is an act of cowardice. We already know that these people don’t want to value Black lives. Now we know they’re even afraid to hear the stories of Black Americans.
What a puny, pathetic ideology that must be.
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