The first of February usually denotes the beginning of Black History Month, which means we’ll round up the usual suspects to do the regularly scheduled programs that highlight African-American achievements and contributions to America that demonstrate our worthiness to be included in the American mosaic. However, you could argue that the opening ceremony of Black History Month begins in January with the activities around MLK Birthday holiday. I want to use this moment (meaning the next six weeks) to talk about how we think, or don’t think, of ourselves in the context of American history.
I’ll begin with the disservice we do Dr. King’s memory and historical record every January as we insist America recognize him, and by extension us, as worthy of inclusion in the pantheon of American heroes. But is the Dr. King we memorialize every January, the Dr. King of history, or more importantly, is the history we’re memorializing worthy of the man?
The Dr. King we celebrate is an homage to the myth of America. The Dr. King of history, properly understood, is evidence of and testament to the indomitable spirit and will of black people in their struggle against America’s endemic white racism.
America, with our complicity, has made Dr. King’s life and story about one moment in time, August 1963, that improvised closing of his speech at the Lincoln Memorial during the March on Washington.
“I have a dream (yeah) [applause] that my four little children (well) will one day live in a nation where they will not be judged by the color of their skin but by the content of their character (my Lord). I have a dream today [enthusiastic applause].”
Every American of any ethnicity has had these words imprinted on their conscious to represent the totality of Dr. King, but why these words?
These words because they align with the myth that Americans have substituted for history. These words have black people accepting their condition in the hope that one day white Americans will include us in their story. We will spend the entire MLK weekend memorializing these words and teaching generations of black school children that this is who MLK was and this is the totality of what he was about.
The reality of that August day as reflected in the historical record tells a much different story about the man and the march. The official name for the March on Washington was the March for Jobs and Justice. And Dr. King’s speech was about way more than his eloquent improvised ending. Let’s have him speak for himself.
“Five score years ago, a great American, in whose symbolic shadow we stand today, signed the Emancipation Proclamation….But one hundred years later, the Negro still is not free. One hundred years later, the life of the Negro is still sadly crippled by the manacles of segregation and the chains of discrimination. One hundred years later the Negro lives on a lonely island of poverty in the midst of a vast ocean of material prosperity. One hundred years later the Negro is still languished in the corners of American society and finds himself in exile in his own land. And so we’ve come here today to dramatize a shameful condition.”
He continues, “In a sense we’ve come to our nation’s capital to cash a check. When the architects of our republic wrote the magnificent words of the Constitution and the Declaration of Independence (Yeah), they were signing a promissory note to which every American was to fall heir…It is obvious today that America has defaulted on this promissory note insofar as her citizens of color are concerned.”
So what would MLK birthday celebrations look and sound like if the beginning of his speech was the focus and not the end? What if there were essay contests for middle and high schools students in January on the importance and meaning of the “Letter from a Birmingham Jail” for today’s America? What if there were panels on American foreign policy with his speech at Riverside Baptist Church as the predicate for the discussion?
And if we truly wanted to honor and remember his life, what if we engage in a community conversation about the Neoliberal American socioeconomic order, in light of the fact he was assassinated in Memphis supporting striking garbage workers while he was organizing the Poor Peoples March on Washington?
What would the MLK holiday ceremonies look and sound like if we understood his growth and political evolution over the arch of his too-short life? Let’s remember what he said to Harry Belafonte, shortly before his assassination: “I have come upon something that disturbs me deeply. I’ve come to believe we’re integrating into a burning house. I’m afraid America may be losing what moral vision she had. Until we assure the underclass has justice and opportunity, we will continue to perpetuate the anger and violence that tears at the soul of this nation.”
Carter G. Woodson wrote, “If a race has no history, it has no worthwhile tradition, it becomes a negligible factor in the thought of the world, and it stands in danger of being exterminated.”
What would it look like if we understood the multiple purposes that history serves, including providing context for the present that we’re experiencing?
What if?
