American history that overlooks the experiences and contributions of Black people is incomplete. Like a memoir with half of the pages ripped out, it’s impossible to decipher accurately, leaving even the most eager reader with a shallow understanding. Why is this important? Because knowledge of history empowers people to chart a path forward that reflects the wisdom of the past. Without it, we’re practically lost and liable to repeat the same mistakes as previous generations. Of course, in the digital age, the availability of information is not the greatest barrier to learning black history. In this case, the prevailing problem is racism, as some white people shun its inclusion. So, we have the missing pages, the books, essays, and poems written by Black authors, but not everyone is convinced the public should access the whole story.
Take, for instance, a letter urging Defense Intelligence Agency employees to “pause all activities and events related to Agency Special Emphasis Programs” as of January 28th. This includes shutting down plans to honor Black History Month, Juneteenth, Dr. Martin Luther King Jr.’s birthday, Women’s History Month, Holocaust Remembrance Day, and numerous other federally recognized holidays celebrating marginalized groups. Some may be surprised that President Donald Trump’s executive order terminating DEI programs set this chain of events in motion. However, officials believe they’re acting in the “spirit” of his order by snubbing these holidays. What once was a fringe idea shared by racist trolls online, canceling Black History Month, has now entered the mainstream as the current administration has ordered federal employees to pause any events or activities planned to honor these marginalized groups.
While it’s safe to say that black communities won’t cancel their Black History Month celebrations simply because of the opinion shared by the current administration, it is harmful to strip these cultural celebrations of their legitimacy. Or to portray them as “immoral,” as Trump did in his executive order. Last year, editors of the Scientific American suggested that teaching about racism is essential, as these lessons “help students understand reality.” This regressive agenda, they argue, “threatens children’s education by propagating a falsified view of reality in which American history and culture are outcomes of white virtue.” Without sharing with students, and by extension, the public, detailed information about the contributions of Black people and other groups, some will wrongfully assume that only white people played a role in shaping society. The authors noted that “removing conversations about race and society removes truth and reality from education.”
Beyond the initial attack on DEI programs, we’re seeing that efforts to commemorate the cultural contributions of Black people and other minorities are also threatened. Last weekend, officials removed video materials about the Tuskegee Airmen, African American pilots who served during World War II despite enduring racial discrimination and segregation from their training curriculum. This incident highlights how black history has been stigmatized. Some may be wondering about the relationship between DEI and banning black history because we often think of these programs as they pertain to hiring practices. Yet, the acronym has also been used in a broader sense, such as describing the inclusion of diverse perspectives in the curriculum or cultural emphasis.
The story of the Tuskegee Airmen is ironic given that DEI in conservative circles has become a synonym for “unqualified.” Their success as Black pilots offers a much-needed counter-narrative, a reminder that highly skilled Black people regularly experience racism. “The U.S. Military” had to do an “about face, reversing course on historical material removal,” according to journalist Mike Sullivan in CBS News. Public pressure likely played a role in restoring the footage, as many expressed outrage at the effort to remove black history. One Tuskegee Airman, Brig. Gen. Enoch Woodhouse II, now 98 years old, commented, “You can’t change history.” Sadly, it seems some people are trying to do just that.
Ruby Bridges, the first Black student to integrate into an elementary school in the South, is an author and activist who has memorialized her experiences in several books, some made especially for children. They detail her harrowing experience of walking into William Frantz Elementary School while White parents, students, and community members openly expressed racist attitudes and protested her inclusion. While most would concede Bridges and other Black people were mistreated by segregationists, in this political climate, books recounting her experience, even those she’s authored, are facing bans and challenges.
As Julianne McShane wrote for Mother Jones schools in states like Pennsylvania, Texas, Iowa, and Tennesee, conservative activists sought to strike her experiences from the curriculum. We can’t blame a six-year-old Black girl for the racism she endured when trying to attend a school formally reserved for White students. And yet, that’s what these bans do — cast blame on those talking about racial discrimination and segregation in American society rather than those responsible for their mistreatment. Not only do these book bans on black historical narratives send the message that they don’t matter, but they’re also portrayed as dangerous. How paradoxical to fear those sharing their stories of persecution more than those upholding a system of oppression. Bridges has referred to book bans as “ridiculous” an effort to “cover up history.”
There’s a problem with a society that treats one race of people as the sun and all others like surrounding planets. And yet, that’s the message sent by canceling Black History Month and other cultural celebrations while maintaining those emphasizing the contributions of White people. America is a diverse nation, but whether it will celebrate or shun those differences remains an ongoing debate. While some claim that “Black history is American history” as a way of silencing efforts to emphasize the topic, it’s never been properly integrated, not in our everyday discussions or the classroom. And that’s a problem because it means the public is ill-informed about the experiences and contributions of Black people. If only more Americans would approach our history like eager readers, thankful to come across missing pages, then maybe we could learn from our nation’s past. And chart a path forward that reflects the lessons our history generously provides. Sadly, some would rather rip up those pages than see them included in our collective memoir.
This article originally appeared on Medium and is edited and republished with author's permission. Read more of William Spivey's work on Medium.