Black History Weak

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The end February comes with mixed emotions.  The month began looking forward to celebrating February’s special events, daily or month-long endearing holidays.  Groundhog’s Day. Valentine’s Day. National Battery Day. Depending upon your perspective and budget, you approached the festivities with great expectations.

Or with grate expectations — as in, calendar items that grate on your nerves and make you impatient for the arrival of March 1.

It’s not mentioned often — not aloud, anyway — but if we’re honest, we would admit that there are places in the U.S. where most anticipated with “grate expectations” is the end of Black History Month. Breaking news: the month ends, the story continues. Ah, there’s the rub!

Sometimes my travels allow me to stumble across Black history: like this Underground Railroad trail in downtown Buffalo, NY.

Watching the evolution of negativity toward Black History Month happen over time and seeing the daily animus spewed in debates from high levels of government to small gatherings in classrooms has been amongst the most disappointing developments of my life. 

The back-and-forth viewpoints that show up in my email boxes, social media crawls, or midday conversations amuse and sadden me. 

Part of my amusement is that I occasionally reflect on how often similar comments have fallen upon my ears over the years.

Part of my sadness is that I occasionally reflect on how often similar comments have fallen upon my ears over the years.

To balance the absurdities of public perceptions with the experiences of Black history I’ve lived and researched, I frequently pen my thoughts as an emotional purge, often by making myself laugh. That led me to start a new blog a few weeks ago that I call “Black History: A Personal Journey.” Since you’ve been reading some of my posts in this blog, I thought you’d be interested in following that series as well. Or at least sampling a few.

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