Guest: Black history is American history. We must face facts, face fears and face forward

American history matters.

Black history is American history.

Therefore, Black history matters.

This basic logical syllogism captures the relevance of Black history, not just for some, but for all.

If we want to understand our present and prepare for our future, we must first know our past. The plural possessive pronoun “our” signals something held collectively and implies inclusion.

We ignore our history — or even just parts of it — at our own peril. History is a great teacher and a powerful predictor.

Too often, the essential narrative of the Black experience in America is told, if at all, only partially, and only in February.

This is Black History Month. We — all of us — should reflect both on its origins and prospects for the future.

Begun in 1926 as Negro History Week and expanded in 1976, Black History Month affords opportunities to explore the centrality of Black people to the social, economic and political framework of our nation. Its creator, Dr. Carter G. Woodson, chose February because it corresponded with the birth month of Abraham Lincoln and Frederick Douglass, two lions of Black liberation.

We rightly salute Dr. Woodson and others whose leadership helped elevate dialogue on Black history. Still, if I had my druthers, there would be no Black History Month.

As a chronicler of Black people’s narratives, one might suppose that I would relish a month devoted to the history in which I am so willingly immersed. Why, then, this seeming contradiction?

My chief concern lies in the continued isolation of Black history, setting it apart from Americana. The “Black history” we celebrate is essential American history, relevant not just for those of African descent, but for all of us.

To appreciate the Constitution, to understand the Civil War, and to make sense of present-day political realities, we need to know the role played by Black folks. We may experience discomfort in the knowing.

Standard curricula overlook and shortchange the pivotal contributions of Black folks and other people of color and, by design or default, dilute history for all learners.

Textbooks too often advance prettified fantasies masquerading as history, skimming over the traumatic episodes from which we have yet to recover. Tortuous and painful though the past may be, it is, in the end, our history.

Though this has begun to change, the shift has been incremental and, some would assert, glacial. It has also engendered backlash.

I served as local curator for Greenwood Rising, the Black Wall Street History Center in Tulsa, Oklahoma. An outside wall of Greenwood Rising bears this James Baldwin quote: “Not everything that is faced can be changed, but nothing can be changed until it is faced.”

If we want a better America — and surely, we do — then we must face facts; we must face fears; and we must face forward.

We must acknowledge those uncomfortable truths about our past and ourselves. We must grapple with the apprehensions that hold us down and hold us back. We must construct a vision that is inclusive and comprehensive; that advances all of us.

When we begin to teach the peoples’ history — that is, the history of all the people — in an integrated and balanced way, we will no longer need Black History Month. That day has not yet arrived, but it is a day whose arrival I hope to hasten.

Hannibal B. Johnson, a Harvard Law school graduate, is a Tulsa-based author, attorney and consultant.

This article originally appeared on Oklahoman: Guest: When we teach all history, we won't need Black History Month