Dear black women

In 2012, author Mary Robinette Kowal initiated “A Month of Letters” in attempt to rekindle a long forgotten tradition of connectedness associated with sharing letters. She challenged people to join her in writing at least one letter in the month of February, and so, this one is for you. It is not to point out our flaws or critique our choices. On the contrary, I am fatigued by the idea of black women constantly being labeled as bitter or angry, or being so quick to belittle each other. So this letter is simply a shout out to the divine and often underestimated. And yes, all lives matter, and all women are great but when others write about their histories they do not always feel the need to write in our stories. That’s okay though, because it leaves us more room to write our own. This is simply a reminder, this Black History Month, that we are great, too.

The month of February was designated as the official Black History Month in 1976. It was developed from “Negro History Week”, a creation of historian Carter G. Woodson in 1926, in which the second week of February was chosen to incorporate the birthdays of Abraham Lincoln and Frederick Douglas. Today the month is honored in other parts of the world, as well, such as Canada and the United Kingdom to commemorate the achievements of people of the African diaspora around the globe.

Although we are quick to celebrate the greats like Martin Luther King, Malcolm X and Jackie Robinson, I am driven to ask—what about the ladies? Yes, we often talk about historic women such as Harriet Tubman and Rosa Parks, but the context of black history still seems to be driven by the inventions, accomplishments and greatness of black men. Especially in the context of recent history, we have spent a lot of time talking about the special place that these black men have in our hearts, while often forgetting about the reasons they are able to step into the world in the first place.

Furthermore, the black women I know are not only caretakers but they are politicians, artists, inventors, scholars, educators. Black history has been written, and will be written, by women like us. One day we will have more artists and authors like the late Maya Angelou, Toni Morrison and Alice Walker, and activists like Ella Baker and Angela Davis. We will have more inventors like Madame C.J. Walker and explorers like Bessie Coleman. We will have more faces of politics like Susan Rice, Condoleeza Rice, Michelle Obama and Barbara Jordan. There exists an endless list of black women who have been influential in the advancement of the United States whose names we too often overlook.

I challenge you this Black History Month to rediscover the name of a black woman who inspires you to greatness. Someone you can look at and say, they did great, so I am going to do better. Because as black women, we have a tendency to get pushed to the bottom of the societal totem pole—we are simply not expected to be phenomenal. However, this does not mean that we cannot hold each other to a higher standard. A sense of accountability, community and a reminder that we are tremendously powerful, resilient and intelligent human beings.

I know that I am strong because I have watched those who have come before me. Without even looking too far in history, I am surrounded by black women in my family who have overcome triumphs that encourage me to keep pushing through my own seemingly trivial turbulence. Even more so, I am surrounded on campus by black women who will one day shake history, whether we know it or not. But we cannot cause movements if we ourselves are broken. Hence, I write this letter, this February, to show a little love. It is a reminder that we have to continue to encourage each other, because truth is that we are our own harshest critics and greatest cheerleaders. We deserve to remind ourselves that we are black history, too.

Kalifa Wright is a Trinity junior. Her column runs every other Wednesday.