While giving a campus tour last month, I noticed an elderly woman accompanying her grandson on a visit of the school. She was in the back of the group, eyes fixated on my mouth and the words I spoke. She didn’t talk or ask ridiculous questions. She just walked along quietly whispering to her grandson every now and then.
When we reached the end of the tour near the Old Well and McCorkle Place, she waited around until the rest of the group went their separate ways to address me personally. In the most simplistic demeanor she asked, “Baby, are you really happy here?”
Immediately I knew she wasn’t asking if I was happy with my class sizes or living arrangements or weekend plans. She wanted some signal of reassurance that I was comfortable here at UNC. In proceeding to list reasons why I was indeed happy with the time I’ve spent at UNC thus far, I realized my answers would never suffice.
Would she be comforted by a few anecdotes from nights in Davis or a handful of fourth-quarter comeback victories on a Saturday afternoon? Could stories of late-night conversations with my roommate or “Late Night with Roy” really measure up to a woman who experienced the Great Depression, World War II and Jim Crow?
Once finished, she put a hand on my shoulder and said, “Make sure to take care of yourself, baby,” then walked away.
In light of this story, I think it would be a waste of column space to simply write another story on the importance of Black History Month. I could reemphasize the history of the black men and women who have so honorably paved the way for my generation today.
I could uncover more little-known facts about the lives of our renowned black civil rights activists, scientists, inventors, musicians, writers, politicians and doctors. I could even attempt to dispel some common myth about the black experience. But what would you take away from it? What would you learn?
This woman approached me with an honest concern for my well-being here at UNC. It was not asked in light of budget cuts, tuition hikes and admissions caps. She wanted to know if I was okay. If anything, her need to ask me this question should be a testament to the role history plays in shaping one’s interpretation of the future.
No doubt, February is necessary to honor the memory, spirit and actions of the fearless men and women of a quintessential era in U.S. history. But it isn’t until history walks up to you after a campus tour asking you (subtly) if you’re “happy” for you to realize — that though there may be a difference in year, decade or century — history, and the constructs and fears it leaves behind, aren’t forgotten. And the men and women who lived through it don’t just disappear either.
