A realistic view of Black History without performative actions
I was the token Black girl for most of my life when I lived in predominantly white areas. In high school, I once stood in the middle of a stage with bright lights as I tried to educate white people and empower Black people about Black history. I grew up in a sheltered environment where students watched scenes of 42 in class and teachers made it a priority to highlight quotes from Angelou and Baldwin. I was excited when Target released its Black History Month collection. I wore wooden earrings in the shape of Africa and sported a Rosa Parks shirt from Amazon that said, “Nah”. But as I got older, I noticed the events became less frequent and the acknowledgment became silent. So, I asked the college version of myself, “Was I performing?”
When I started college, I did not pack my Afrocentric earrings or Black girl magic shirts. I had entered a world that was bigger than the bubble I grew up in. This new world treated 28 days as any other day in the year. There was no platform to perform for. There is no white person to compliment my beads because, frankly we live in Philadelphia, and they’ve probably seen them 100 times before. Were the materialistic things I celebrated in February for a white audience? Proving that my people were worthy of a celebration, trying to prove that the culture was not lost?
Black history is more than a month of listening to Aretha Franklin and watching “Black Voices” highlighted on streaming services. We live in a society where we’ve seen images of celebrating Black History to be performative.
Black History has been used as a marketing ploy to lure consumers in with seemingly Afrocentric products. The performative activism and “allyship” are for commodification purposes, with no intentions or plans to make changes for the Black community, shoppers, or employees.
We get sold a t-shirt or hoodie, but companies are not committed to long-lasting reformations. Today, we can see clearly when companies are given a chance to take back their progressive strategies, they revert back to their harmful ideologies. I believe we live in a capitalist society that only cares about Black History when it makes a profit. Some organizations care about Black History so they can have an inclusive image. But what does Black History look like without the shows, money, glitz and glamor?
Black history should look like supporting and loving the community that surrounds you. It’s spending special moments with elders and listening to their stories. It’s remembering the grit and strength of activists who fought for the opportunities we have today. It does not have a standing ovation or a stage, it’s soft, gentle, and intimate. It’s oiling our scalps and smelling like cocoa butter. It’s in our mothers, fathers, siblings, cousins, and in us.
My existence is still the biggest celebration of Black History without the costume. I learned I didn’t have to play dress up, write spoken words, or give Target (who is underserving of) my money to make a point. My being was not created to be a token for 28 days. Every morning and night, I wake up and go to sleep Black. It’s making sure I’m educated about oppressive systems, it’s reading, it’s learning, and it’s loving. Black History Month shouldn’t be a performance.