Black History Month: I ain’t from Africa, I’m from Crenshaw Mafia!

Here we go again; another February, another Black History Month. Frankly, for the first time in my adult life I’m a bit conflicted on Black History Month. Yeah, I know that’s hard to imagine hearing this coming from “Mr. Fight The Power Kill Whitey Die Die Die,” right? I don’t know, maybe it’s an age thing where the older I get, like Christmas, I see Black History Month as something for the kids, and for their benefit. Yep, and I say that with the realization that the more they know damn sure wouldn’t stop them from wearing their pants on the ground, or continuing to kill each other in the streets. Also, how much has Black History Month contributed to the on going fight for equality in a society where said inequality is rationed systematically?

I mean let’s face it, it’s a month chock full of info about the proud accomplishments of Black people; and that’s a good thing; recognizing those accomplishments, that is. But pick any twenty random Negroes and throw them on a game-show where they had to answer Black history questions Jeopardy Style for a million dollars? Yep, you tell me if this game-show was aired every-night for the next twenty eight days of the month how many people would walk away winners intent on donating to the United Negro College Fund.

I’m not saying that Black History isn’t important, nor are the many contributions of Black folks to society at large. Instead, like my man Larry Wilmore, I’d rather we got Casinos so we would never have to worry about twenty eight days of trivia that isn’t as important or culturally significant as the silly outfits worn by Lady Gaga at the Grammy Awards last night. But then that’s probably the fault of white folks. If they paid reparations then they wouldn’t have to worry about being made to feel guilty by re-runs of Roots three times a day for twenty eight days. But then again, they gave us Barack Obama and a few Black Ms. Americas, so…

Yeah, yeah, yeah, I know if you don’t know your past you won’t know your future and all of that. But why should we when there are folks among us who don’t agree on whether to be called African Americans, Black or Negro. I mean if all that matters is the here and now and we should move past the dark days in our history as some believe we should. Hell, a significant number of Black people don’t feel a connection to Africa anyway; and I’ll be honest, this is very sad when we overlook our glorious past prior to the slave trade. That said, why then even celebrate Black History Month? If you’re gonna tell history, Black history, why stop or start with slavery? Aren’t we greater than that as a people? Oh well, maybe you can answer that question for me while for the moment I let loose my inner Republican: