Black History, Heritage, and Why This Still Matters
Before I present another Black History Astrological piece, I’d like to take a moment to clarify the purpose of Black History Month (what I like to refer to as Black Heritage Month).
The purpose of this month is to highlight the history, heritage, resilience, and contributions of Black people in the United States. Black Americans have been subjected to racism, oppression, and discrimination for centuries, and many of the systems within this country still perpetuate these inequities today.
While many of the stories shared during this month center pain, trauma, and blatant oppression, the goal is not to dwell in suffering. The goal is education, remembrance, and awareness (for those within the Black community and for those outside of it) to understand where we’ve come from, what we’ve created, and why there continues to be an outcry for equity within our social, political, and judicial systems.
Common Questions I Receive
I want to take a moment to address several of the most common sentiments and questions I encounter around this topic.
Why do Black people “cling” to their struggle or feel as though the world owes them something when other races and ethnicities have also experienced atrocities?
For decades, the Black community has urged this country to acknowledge the mistreatment and systemic prejudices we continue to face (particularly within institutions like the judicial system). This ongoing call for accountability is often mischaracterized as “clinging to the past” or refusing to move forward.
That is not what this is.
There is a continued outcry because there are still changes that need to be made. While there were major breakthroughs during the Civil Rights Movement (such as desegregation, voting rights, and anti-discrimination laws) these advancements did not dismantle the deeper structural issues that persist today.
Black men and women are still disproportionately racially profiled, over-policed, and subjected to prejudice based solely on the color of their skin, alongside other communities of color. Roughly 20% of the Black population in the U.S. lives in poverty, and decades of research show that higher crime and arrest rates directly correlate with concentrated poverty and socioeconomic disadvantage.
This context does not excuse crime. However, it does challenge the narratives used to justify racial profiling and systemic discrimination.
Black Heritage Month exists not to portray Black people as victims, but to expand the narrative beyond the limited and often harmful representations we see in media. We are more than the stereotypes of criminals, rappers, entertainers, or athletes. There is a rich and often under-taught history of Black scientists, mathematicians, entrepreneurs, inventors, scholars, artists and even spiritual or occult leaders who made (and continue to make) profound contributions to this country and the world.
Acknowledging the suffering of other communities does not invalidate our own. Multiple histories of pain can exist at the same time. In fact, recognizing this shared reality is precisely why the systems that perpetuate inequality should be questioned and challenged.
Why does there need to be a Black History Month when slavery and related history were already taught in schools?
Much of the history that was taught is now being removed, minimized, or reframed. Even when Black history was included in education, it was often vague, incomplete, or focused almost exclusively on struggle—while erasing the brilliance, innovation, and leadership that existed alongside it.
History may have been taught, but heritage rarely was.
Part of this erasure stems from the permanent cultural displacement caused by the Transatlantic Slave Trade. Many Black Americans do not have the ability to trace their lineage due to the fact that enslaved people were not documented as individuals, but treated as property. Family names, bloodlines, languages, and cultural identities were deliberately severed.
The term “African American” is often used to describe Black people in the United States, yet many do not have a tangible or traceable connection to a specific African country or lineage in the way that first- or second-generation immigrants might. Even modern ancestry tests frequently return broad regional results (such as “West African”) without names, records, or verifiable bloodlines.
I’d also like to highlight that many black people also have indigenous roots that were lost or erased due to enslavement. Similarly, many cannot trace their heritage due to these same reasons or the lack of registration on the tribal records.
This loss of ancestry is one of the lasting effects of enslavery that is not always comparable to other historical atrocities. It is not simply about enslavement itself, but about the permanent disruption of identity, heritage, and cultural continuity.
Black History Month is, in part, an effort to reclaim what can be reclaimed—to honor the history we do know, to recognize how deeply Black people shaped this country, and to remember the contributions that were systematically excluded from the mainstream narrative.
Why do Black people make everything about race?
I do not believe it is the conscious intent of most Black people to “make everything about race.” More often, when conversations turn toward race (or when the question “Is it because I’m Black?” arises) it is a reflection of long-standing systemic conditioning rather than an attempt to center race unnecessarily.
For centuries, Black people in this country were assessed, valued, and categorized almost exclusively by the color of their skin. Race was not incidental to our experience—it was the defining factor used to determine access, safety, opportunity, and humanity itself. While the enslavement of Black people and legal segregation no longer exist, the psychological and structural remnants of those systems did not simply disappear.
As a result, when a Black person questions whether mistreatment, exclusion, or dismissal is racially motivated, that concern is often labeled as exaggeration or hypersensitivity. This dismissal is especially troubling given that history (and present-day data) have repeatedly demonstrated that race does play a role in how people are treated across education, employment, housing, healthcare, and the justice system. Even the language used to describe our community centers race, as “Black” itself is a racial identifier.
To challenge this line of questioning as irrational, while ignoring the systems that produced it, can feel disingenuous. It places the burden on Black individuals to prove that race is relevant, rather than on institutions to examine why it continues to be.
That said, this awareness is not meant to promote victimhood within the Black community. Awareness and victimhood are not the same. Understanding how historical oppression shapes perception, caution, and pattern recognition does not require remaining stuck in powerlessness.
The solution is not denial but discernment.
Moving forward requires the ability to:
Recognize when race is a contributing factor without assuming it is the only factor
Validate lived experiences while cultivating agency, self-trust, and emotional regulation
Shift from survival-based interpretation toward empowered response
Awareness is meant to inform, not immobilize. The goal is not to internalize oppression as identity, but to understand its influence well enough to consciously choose how we respond, build, and move forward. When paired with self-awareness, education, and community support, this understanding becomes a tool for growth rather than a justification for stagnation.
Why This Still Matters Today
The need for historical and cultural awareness remains deeply relevant in the present day (it is 2026 at the time of this writing). While it is encouraging to see more people stand in solidarity with the Black community, education and awareness are essential for meaningful and lasting change.
Black History Month is not about being placed on display or treated as curiosities—people whose hair is touched without consent or whose humanity is questioned. It is about affirming that Black people exist fully, complexly, and humanly. We are not anomalies. We are not abstractions. We are people who live, feel, and bleed red just like everyone else.
This is just my two cents…
This piece is written from my perspective as a Black woman, astrologer, and educator in the United States. Its purpose is to inform, contextualize, and encourage thoughtful reflection. It is not to assign guilt, provoke hostility, or debate the validity of lived experiences.
If this content challenges you, I invite curiosity over defensiveness and learning over dismissal.
This work is intended for those open to understanding history beyond what is traditionally taught, and for those who believe that awareness is a necessary step toward equity.
—Faith <3
