As another February drifts further and further away from the memory of our people, as the reflections on Dr. King and Malcolm X begin to fade away, as we move forward from our moments of marvel at the journey up from the plantations of slavery to the oval office of the White House, I for one am declaring February 2011 the LAST BLACK HISTORY MONTH…EVER.

At this point, you may be anticipating reading a piece by a misguided Negro that has truly bought into the fantasy of the post racial society or perhaps a nihilist more concerned with the ability to predict a bleak future than to create a better tomorrow.  Neither is the case.  In the true spirit and culture of our people, people of African descent, I am prepared to say that we as African descendents have all moved past the need to reflect solely on black history, if there was ever a need to begin with.

The idea of blackness has been in transition for people of African descent for quite sometime.  Since the wide spread adoption of the term “African-American” the term “Black” has become more and more socially obscure.  Whereas in the past, calling yourself “black” was a statement against the idea of what it meant to be “colored” or “Negro”, many of us have willingly shed the value of this socially created identity for the more inclusive “African-American”.  This change of masks has allowed many of us to feel at one with the imperial entity that is the United States, revel in the electoral processes when they work in our favor, and enjoy the same rose colored glasses framed with truth, justice and the American way of our Caucasian, Latino, Native American and Asian counterparts.  This mask that we wear now is particularly troubling when we consider what it can actually means to be black.

Molefi Asante and others have provided an explanation more thorough than I will attempt to here, but in paraphrase, they have defined “blackness” as the natural oppositional force to oppression in the known world, whether that oppression wears the face of slavery, colonialism, imperialism and of course the father of all these, racism.  To be black then, means to resist and to struggle not only against racism, but also against the very philosophy of what white supremacy is, every and anywhere.  This is the reason why black history has held such a valuable place in our hearts, at its best, it is about much more than the date of the signing of the voting rights act or the remembrance of the founding of the National Urban League, it was a time to champion all the brothers and sisters that stood up against the inimical foe that is the racist state, and even though they may have been defeated in their time, we still survive with some victories and more work to do today.  In short, black history month used to be about the historical definition of what it means to be black.

This was before it became a corporate phenomenon, where companies make black history month greeting cards with all the style and none of the substance, where news networks spend 30 seconds talking about someone black and usually famous and then spend the other 23 hours, 58 minutes and 30 seconds painting most of the black people in the world in the worst light possible, and where every story of black people, regardless of where it starts, ends with the inauguration of Barack Obama.  To put it bluntly, blackness has been commodified and our history has been condensed into the stuff bumper stickers and t-shirts are made of.

This is of course our fault for not being vigilant of our collective identity.  For not protecting the history of who we are so that someone else couldn’t tell us who we should be.  A people firmly rooted in their identity know that their ability to translate the truth of their history is imperative to their ability to guide their people toward ultimate perseverance and positive development.  Considering this, and upon further consideration, perhaps the reason why black history has been so manipulated is because we never really owned Black History Month to begin with.

Of course, we all know about the creation of Black History Month, by the brilliant Carter G. Woodson who called it Negro History Week, but we never questioned why it should be called Negro History Week then or why it is only Black History Month now?  Whether we call ourselves Negro or Black we are, in conclusion, defining ourselves based on the idea and reality of a society we do not control.  “Negro” is the name given to us and “Black” is the name we took in rejection of it and yet, even to this day, we have not collectively asked the question of what is our name before any of this?  We have not collectively questioned whether or not Negro or Black were boxes big enough to hold the consciousness of our people?  We have not considered whether or not Negro or Black were far more limiting and divisive than another alternative?

In the United States, people that may be considered “black” may consider themselves Jamaican, Liberian, or Haitian.  If they don’t identify as “black” because of an allegiance to their homeland, where does this place them in black history?  How do we begin to account for Africans that have families who have never experienced Ku Klux Klan terrorism or Jim Crow segregation?  How do we account for Kittians that have no relatives that were a part of the National Association for the Advancement of Colored People or the Republic of New Afrika?  These are glimpses into the limits of black history month.  It doesn’t allow for the entirety of the story of our people to be told.  True, this story takes lifetimes to tell, but currently the black history story is one that has largely omitted the military strategy of Hannibal, the indomitable will of Nzinga, the commitment to liberation of Cabral, the critical assessment of Fanon and the genius of Nkrumah.

By becoming an African American phenomenon largely focused on the 1960’s and 70’s (barely to the depth necessary), Black History Month has prevented us from reconnecting with a heritage and culture that pre-dates slavery and has left the larger world of people of African descent at a loss on how to participate.  It has also let European society off the hook for participating in a globalized effort to exploit our people and resources.  In this way, the very application of Black History Month compartmentalizes the legacy of our people and promotes the disconnection that is the enemy of our unity.  This is the reason why Black History Month can be celebrated by our people and racists and their organizations and institutions at the same time.  They are aware that in its current construction and application it only tells us what they want us to know and remember.

The bad news is, we’ve allowed this to happen for far too many years.  The good news is, we don’t have to let it continue and the alternative already exists.  We are talking about the official establishment African Heritage Month.  African Heritage Month is a time for all people of African descent to share in our journey to this point.  It will be a time for us to not only remember the Harlem Renaissance, but also the Songhai Empire, to not only pay homage to the sacrifice of Malcolm X, but also that of Patrice Lumumba.  To not only hear the liberation themes of Bob Marley but also those of Fela Kuti.  Of course, African Heritage Month won’t receive the publicity of Black History Month.  There won’t be any fast food commercials or cable news network specials.  We should be happy about this.  The society at large has always worked to keep us generally disunited and totally un-African.  By now, we should expect this.  But at the end of the day, if we are truly to put our right  to Kujichagulia into place, we must define ourselves and our reflection times for ourselves.  This is a crucial step toward becoming what it means to be African.

So that’s why there won’t be any more Black History Months for me.  I encourage you to join me in celebrating African Heritage Month from now on.  After all, it can’t be done without you anyway.

BlackCommentator.com Guest Commentator Charles J. Evans is a modern day culture critic, philosopher and warrior scholar. Click here to contact Mr. Evans.