Living Black History

Today is the first day of Black History Month! It’s a time that I look forward to every year. It is usually characterized by anticipation and excitement. But my Black history and my Black present are at war today. So, I wanted to share my Black present with you because as you’re celebrating prominent Black leaders and artists and educators and creators and scientists and commenting about “how far we have come as a country,” I’m processing what’s happening in my own Black life today in 2021. And the contradictions are significant.

Photo courtesy of the author

I’m pursuing some new opportunities (consulting and otherwise). But I’m not just thinking about the opportunities ahead, I’m also thinking about potential barriers and realities. I am…

• thinking about my hair for Zoom meetings. You see, my Afro gives people pause. Even in its silence, it makes a bold statement to people. People with decision-making power.
• thinking about past SM posts. My vocality and perspective about issues of race and justice are viewed as offensive and divisive to some people. People with influence.
• thinking about Black History Month. Things I want to say, stories I want to share, issues I want to highlight that aren’t comfortable for all people. People who will potentially sign – or not sign – my contracts or employment offers.
• thinking about my Black History Month gear. I have at least ten Black-themed shirts. When I wear them, some people celebrate. Others cringe. And they judge me because of the words on my shirts. Because of my celebration of Blackness. People actually find my “Hella Black Hella Proud” or “Making Black History Daily” shirts problematic. People who will vote on my participation in groups or committees.
• thinking about my face. I don’t smile all the time. I smile a lot, but I don’t have a perpetual smile on my face – especially when I’m thinking or when I detect bs. Which is quite often. I’m not “cordial” all the time. So I’m viewed as hostile by people. People who think I should be “softer” and less “harsh.” People who think I’m intimidating and prefer a “softer” or “gentler” tone.
• thinking about my smiles in these two pictures. My joy and my fullness. My confidence and drive. And thinking about how the girl in these two pictures is right now – in this very moment – not smiling. I am crushed by my reality that other people have a lot of power in my life. People who are different from me. People who don’t understand or value all of me.

This is what it means to be Black in America. It means to be always aware of the deeply held conceptions of racial inferiority, the painful reality of racism, and the abiding presence of whiteness that impacts every part of my existence. To being so very careful when others don’t have to be. To wonder which of my friends, colleagues, neighbors, or kids’ teachers were in the 74 million who voted for a man who considers me subhuman. To have to worry about my hair and whether or not it is professional enough for work and meetings. To consider how much is too much for the power-holding white people in my life. It means always grappling with the reality that my Blackness will always be too much for some and not enough for others and how who I am yet must be tempered to be accepted.

Happy first day of Black History Month 2021.

Photo courtesy of the author

Dr. Sharla Horton-Williams has a 20-year career in early childhood and pre-kindergarten through 12th grade education. She is committed to achieving educational excellence and equity for all students – especially Black and Hispanic students who have historically been underserved in education. She has served as a teacher, assistant principal, and principal in private, public charter, and traditional public schools. Sharla earned a doctorate in curriculum and instruction from Texas A&M University, where her research focused on the role of school leadership in closing the opportunity-achievement gap.