By Jayla Johnson

Major: Biology 
 
What does Black History Month mean to you?
On one hand, Black History Month is an inclusion to a history obscured. Black history is history, and February is the time to celebrate Black people and our culture. Though, on the other hand, it is hard not to consider Black History Month a condensed acknowledgment of the fact that Blackness is the catalyst of America. We built its foundation, and drive the current culture - music, fashion, politics, intersectionality. We know how it feels to be the automatic other, so we are constantly thinking about things that others would never consider. It feels like a color washing, akin to greenwashing from major corporations or rainbow-washing during Pride Month. Especially when our history is repeatedly banned, called "radical," demonized, and white-washed or white-savored, the word "history" in the title feels laughable. America would be nothing without the contributions of Black people. Black History Month serves a wakeup call at the turn of the year to remind people of that.
 
Black history is American history.
 
As a black student-athlete, how do you use your platform to advocate for social injustices?
 
Being a student-athlete means that there are eyes on you, whether you realize it or not. Although minorities are not teachers for the guilty, and we are not people to idolize just because we understand the struggle, it is important that if you have any kind of influence or status, to make it a good one. 
 
There is more I could do on a larger scale, but I am a big believer in the little, trivial things. I believe that mutual aid is one of the most powerful proponents of change. Seemingly unimportant things like educating a friend, having a conversation, handing out water at a protest, or giving someone a ride to vote can change everything. The whole point of mutual aid is to give someone a leg up amidst the multitude of systems that are constantly kicking you down. It is an exponential; one leads to two, leads to four, and so on. That conversation with a friend makes both of you more knowledgeable, both gaining new perspectives and solutions. That water at the protest keeps the people fighting, fueling the fire for change. That ride to the voting booth might be the most "radical" thing on this list - giving that person the power to use their voice, actively fighting voter suppression that is rampant in Black communities. 
 
It seems small, but how can you change the world if you can't change your community? The people you surround yourself with reflect you. You have the power to uplift those around you, so spread your resources if you have them.
 
Black history is American history.
 
Is there a particular moment or historical event in your lifetime that galvanized you to fight for change? (This could be a personal moment, large scale event, something that happened to a friend, etc.)
 
Being someone who takes in a lot of media, I am in a constant state of annoyance. Scrolling down my timelines, I see anything from the newest popular dance to triggering videos to microaggressions that people will never understand. In my everyday life, I sigh at the dividers on the bus stop seat, I hear my friend with darker skin brush off a microaggression, I see new books being banned – I thought we were past that.
 
The summer of 2020 is something I will tell my grandchildren about. First, there was the beginning of the pandemic, the supposed two-week vacation that ultimately cost me my senior year. We were already grieving, trying hard to weigh our sadness in a way that would not overshadow the people who were losing loved ones, the overworked nurses, and the thousands losing their jobs. Then in May, when I was about to graduate, George Floyd was brutally murdered. This sparked a familiar rage within me, and many in the nation agreed. That summer, there were multiple protests a week in my community, resources were shared by the Instagram story, thousands of people banded together to speak against police brutality and the system it thrives in. In every gathering and every post, there was something new to learn. It felt like a step in the right direction. That summer, for many reasons, is one for the books.
 
Black history is American history.
 
Is there anything else you want to add about this topic?
 
While I am a student athlete, I can take my uniform off at the end of the day. I cannot wash away the discrimination that comes with my skin. Black History did not begin or end with the Civil Rights Movement, it is ongoing, and there is much more to learn, there is much more to change. Black history is every day. 
 
While many will never forget the summer of 2020, for Black people it was exhausting. People were finally listening it seemed, taking police brutality seriously. Seeing the underlying systemic issues, that it was more than "they resisted." While it was great that people took notice, it felt as though you could not escape the dread. Scrolling through any social media I would see a video of a new person dying or being shot, most of the time with no warning given. While it is important for people to see injustice so they can receive justice, consuming this everyday was draining. A constant reminder of being "the other."  That summer showed non-Black people a glimpse of the perpetual grievance Blackness can hold. Some news sources called it "ally fatigue." For Black people, it was a constant reminder of the worst possible outcome if you were to step outside. 
 
Black History Month is a period where we can see beyond the dread. The pandemic is still here, but the conversation has died down. There is a way to balance sadness with joy, but this cannot happen if no one is talking. Do not let this energy leave as it did that summer. Black History is every day, not just February.
 
Black history is American history.