For the past couple weeks I’ve contemplated writing a Black History Month post, and well, here I am to deliver. As y’all may know, black history is a subject matter that is not only dear to us but also causes a positive rise out of us. Despite being honored during the shortest month of the year, it is forever embedded in us. We find it important, that we not only continue to revive ourselves on this subject of black history, but also enlighten others.

My personal drive came from the urge to know about my history and the people who paved a way for me. As a Muslim, I’ve learned that the history of my people lies deeper than my skin. It is estimated that 10 to 15 percent of the slaves brought to the New World were Muslim. It was also my hometown, New Orleans, and my father who introduced me to the beauty of African American culture. I loved the people, who lived to tell old stories, the jazz music, and the artists. However, moving from New Orleans to Maine, was a challenge on how I viewed myself as a African American female. It was hard transitioning from a state of diversity to relocating to a place where I was one of few minorities. I spent many years tip-toeing around white people to avoid being labeled the stereotypical black woman. Till this day, I receive the same reaction when I speak my mind like they expect me to be incoherent. It was a while before I could fully grasp that I was often silently discriminated towards. To me it was just quite ironic that people of the north, who proudly flaunted their history of fighting for the rights of African Americans’, were the ones still engaging in prejudice acts. I learned that the institutions of the region many people described as having “the best schools”, taught me nearly nothing about the history of my people that helped mold this country. If I left it to the education system to know about black history, all I would know about would be the surface facts about Martin Luther King Jr and Rosa Parks.

As a young teenager, I realized I could do either two things: continue to feel devalued by white people and ignore my worth and potential or embrace who I was and represent it proudly. So I took the initiative to educate myself. Everything I gained knowledge on further interested me to research. Every time I researched I was introduced to these astonishing historical figures that I fell in love with. In middle school, I joined the Civil Rights Team and that’s when I became aware that my purpose had something to do with uplifting people in the black community. It gave me hope to know that I could make a difference like my precedents Ethel L. Payne, Alice Dunbar-Nelson, or even Ida Bell Wells-Barnett.

Today, my sentiments on this subject, remains that black history should be honored regularly. It should be apart of American history and be instilled in our youth. The fact that it isn’t, proves undoubtedly, that we still haven’t reached equality among whites. Some might argue that Obama as President is a stepping stone, which is, but the question is will our children fathom the significance? They need to be taught every part of their history, including the uncomfortable facts, not to just appreciate how far we have come but to be inspired to continue rising above. We, as African Americans, are the only ones capable of reshaping how we are perceived, by making changes amongst ourselves. That doesn’t necessarily mean that people must protest and be aggressive. Not everyone’s purpose is the same but we should at least embrace who we are and where we come from. Here, on our blog, one of our objectives is to support and promote fellow African American writers, poets, musicians, blogs, designers, and so on. Furthermore we will recommend books to read or movies and documentaries to watch. Does that mean that we are discriminating? No, we just stand firm in uplifting the African American community in any way that we can.