Discussions about the state of mass media and U.S. history are continually contested — socially and politically. This often results in the removal of marginalized and disenfranchised communities from history, continuing the legacy of inequality that those historically oppressed groups know all too well. 

As a Black woman in higher education, I am continually reminded of the erasure of my multiple identities, but I also think of my ancestors’ struggle. That public erasure, while difficult, gives me a greater appreciation of how my family’s everyday lives connect to key moments in Black history. Therefore, I truly believe I am Black History.

Understanding the depths of colorism and white supremacy within Alabama, upon his white father’s death, my great-great-grandfather fled for his life to Parkdale, Arkansas to escape from his white relatives. 

Later in Little Rock, Arkansas,  my great-grandmother worked as a maid in the state Capitol building.

During the Great Migration, Black individuals, including my great-aunts and uncles, established themselves in northern and western cities, such as Chicago and San Diego.

While the 1957 Little Rock Central High Crisis unfolded, my grandmother, my mother, who was six at the time, and her sisters were attacked by white protesters as they walked home together from Stephens Elementary School.

Then, the power of desegregation in Brown v. Board of Educationallowed my mother, uncle, and cousin to graduate from Little Rock Central High School. It also opened the doors for my grandmothers — one to become a nurse and the other to become a community college educator.

Lastly, I remember my family members who served in the Armed Forces.

These are just a few of the countless untold and erased histories of what scholar Derrick Bell calls “faces from the bottom of the well.” Bell argues that the permanence of racism and injustice still plagues our society. I remember those whose stories are deeply rooted in my genes with great pride. At the same time, I resist the current popular opinion that certain stories are part of a political ideology. The truth is, history matters then, and it matters now. 

As the new chair of the History Division, I encourage our members to explore aspects of diversity, inclusion, and equity — not only in their work but also from the framework of social justice as an everyday practice. Black feminist scholar bell hooks discussed the impact of teaching community as a means of going beyond diversity and recognizing the existence of others with different lives and experiences.

Allow space for discussion without the burden of educating. Break the myth that monolithic identities are normal. Be transparent that you have ingrained biases and stereotypes. Then set out to challenge those biases.

Finally, we need to be comfortable with being uncomfortable. I teach my students that asking questions is the only way to find solutions. 

I ask you to view and present history not just from the perspective of the exemplars or “great man” narratives but through embracing how lived experiences elevate our understanding of identity, social justice, and legacies of inequality.  I look forward to engaging with you about our field and research in ways that extend beyond the classroom into the larger community.