Hope must spring eternal

Shocking news: This February, most Morningside Heights residents were too wrapped up in their winter coats and midterms to celebrate—or even notice—Black History Month. Its irrelevance on campus makes you wonder why we should celebrate Black History Month at all.

The question’s first key controversy centers on what I’ll call the Valentine’s Day debate. Why, V-day critics ask, should we celebrate love on just one day? Love should be cherished all 365 days of the year! Critics, you’re missing the point: Couples who celebrate Valentine’s Day don’t ignore each other the rest of the year. Setting aside one day for love does not forbid it from being practiced year-round, but it does encourage us to step back and appreciate our loved ones for a day.

The same goes for Black History Month, whose critics contend that relegating black history to one month encourages America to ignore it for the other 11. That’s not, of course, the point—February commemorations of black history have no bearing on commemorations any other time of year. By pinpointing February, we provide an impetus, however arbitrary, to have important conversations about racial inequality, resistance, and activism, among other issues.

The second and more complex controversy revolves around the means to eradicating inequality. Black History Month’s proponents argue that it encourages an exploration of black history beyond the celebrity activists that textbooks already acknowledge. Its detractors, however, claim that this perpetuates an erroneous distinction between black history and American history. America needs to integrate, not separate, both histories. We must remember that black history is American history and that black experiences are human experiences, relatable to all people. Black history only loses vitality through its particularization.

Both arguments presuppose that Black History Month’s only purpose is to make up for something—whether that is underrepresentation in textbooks or discrimination in the present day. Both sides assume that one day, today or in the future, Black History Month will become obsolete. But is the fulfillment of a political agenda really the commemoration’s only purpose?

The success of the civil rights movement is one of the most beautiful, inspirational narratives in American history. To learn about black history in America is to learn about the power of cooperation and activism, of determination in the face of overwhelming skepticism and violent assault, and of a passionate and unyielding commitment to justice and equality. By celebrating these stories, we ensure that America never unlearns these hard-won lessons.

Of course, black history does not hold a monopoly on inspirational tales—we could turn to countless other movements or activists and learn the same lessons. But it is black history, in particular, that has fundamentally shaped the birth and development of our nation. As such, it’s our responsibility to honor black history’s stories, not just as a means of fighting inequality, but also as a way to commemorate their sheer improbability, beauty, and courage.

In our age of political apathy and powerlessness at the hands of big government and bigger business, these stories have become absolutely essential. They narrate the successful rise of a people against oppression and tyranny—their fundamental belief in a cause and, most importantly, in their own ability to effect real and lasting change. Unlike many activists before us, including Columbia’s 1968 student protesters, there are no armed police officers standing between us and political action. It’s about time that we, as a university and a people, regain that kind of unmitigated faith in our own political power.

The author is a Columbia College sophomore majoring in English with a possible concentration in Latin American and Caribbean studies.