Our Most Honest Moments
Last Wednesday, I decided I wanted to write something about Black History Month.
In the sort of lazy, disengaged way you think about being an astronaut or what WWII would have been like if the Nazis had dragons, I started thinking about the appreciation of African culture in our society.
Why do we need a Black History Month? I asked myself. Why do Americans only care about black accomplishments in February? Does the fact that I’m asking these questions make me a racist? If so, what sort of shoes should I wear from now on?
With these questions in mind, I sat down to talk with Marquis Woolford, a senior English major, former Orientation Aide, and president of Hip Hop SA.
“I think it’s unfortunate that we even need a Black History Month,” he told me. Marquis grew up first in Hollywood, California, and then moved to Buffalo, (“Sugar to shit,” he said of the change). In school he was always disappointed when he wanted to learn more about black inventors or authors, but had to wait until February.
“It’s like Christmas for black history facts,” he said.
When I asked him why he thought Black History Month was necessary, Woolford said he had mixed feelings.
“On one hand, it’s sort of used to placate black people, like ‘here you go—shut up,” he said. In addition, having only one month suggests that black history is only one twelfth as important as the rest of American history.
On the other hand, he said, America needs to be reminded of black history for two reasons. First, there’s the 300 or so years of unpaid black labor that made the United States the economic power that it is today.
Secondly, he pointed out, Africans have been leading the fight for civil rights since they got to this country, and every victory they had became a victory for someone else. When slavery was abolished, that meant an end to all slavery, not just black slavery. When the fifteenth amendment was passed, that meant all men had the right to vote, whether they were black, white, Latino, from New Jersey, whatever.
“All of these victories were not just for black people—but black people were at the front,” Woolford said. “Black people refused to be swept under the carpet.” Their efforts, and the efforts of those that supported their cause, ended the hypocrisy of a nation that wrote ideals of freedom and equality into their national narrative while reducing millions of human beings to the social status of a tractor.
Using race to define life is comfortable. It allows us to avoid the difficulty of actually learning about people as individuals. When seen in black and white, the world looks simpler. So how do we move forward? In a handful of words, Marquis gave me some hope for our generation.
“I think in our most honest moments, we all realize that the whole idea of race is bullshit,” Woolford said.
We move forward by opening our hearts and minds to the idea that there is more that unites the human race than divides it. There is more to make us realize our potential as one America than to pretend “black” and “white” are anything more than empty phrases used by people trying to simplify a complex world.
“Step outside your comfort zones,” Woolford said. “Question everything—accept nothing. You may not get the right answers, but at least you won’t be stuck with the wrong ones.”
Talk to smart, caring people. Talk to Marquis Woolford, he’s in the Flag Room of the Student Union every Thursday from 5 p.m. to 7 p.m. with Hip Hop SA. Talk, openly and honestly, to someone with a different background than your own, which, by Woolford’s definition, is everyone.
The more you learn from talking, the more you’ll realize you don’t know shit about shit—don’t give up. This is the beginning of the process by which we liberate ourselves from culture and history, and if we all do our best to talk, listen, and be human to one another, Generation “Why” might just make it through this with all our teeth.
You will see me mooning you from such great heights,
Jacob “Sixth Time’s the Charm” Drum
