Why are we so afraid to confront our past?
Why is it hard for us to accept our past? We were taught from an early age that we live in a country that values freedom and equality. We were taught from a young age that we should be grateful to live in this “shining beacon on a hill.” A “melting pot” of individuals from all walks of life. Anyone who wanted to be somebody could be whoever they wanted to be in America. The great “American Dream.”
And to have to sit with the fact that this beacon of democracy was not in fact as democratic as it seemed is scary for us.
Chattel slavery existed here for almost 250 years. Millions of Native Americans died at the hands of European disease, settlers and due to U.S. policies of removal and assimilation. Discrimination against the “other” is splattered upon the pages of our history books — Native Americans, African Americans, Irish, Roman Catholic, Asians, Eastern Europeans, Jews and most recently — Muslims, Arabs, Hispanic immigrants.
As much as freedom and democracy run through our veins, so, too, does fear of the other and oppression. This does not make us bad people. To be able to confront our past fears, to atone for our past transgressions, to learn from the past to work toward a more diverse, inclusive and equitable society is nothing to bow down from. It should inspire us. Fill us with hope. It should not be hidden from sight or used as a political weapon against our education system. As cliche as it sounds, we cannot be afraid to learn from the lessons of our past.
The passage of HB1775 on the surface looks to be a bill of inclusivity and acceptance; but lift back the veil and what we are left with is the purposeful attack and attempt to dismantle history education as we know it. Now that it has been signed into law, it will strip away the ability for schools and universities to conduct diversity training on issues such as race, gender, religious tolerance and the like. It will limit what teachers are able to discuss with their students, perhaps going so far as to omit critical aspects of our nation’s past that are crucial to understanding our present.
One of my favorite passages from Letter from a Birmingham Jail, written by the Rev. Martin Luther King Jr. in 1963 in part reads:
“I must make two honest confessions to you, my Christian and Jewish brothers. First, I must confess that over the past few years I have been gravely disappointed with the white moderate. I have almost reached the regrettable conclusion that the Negro’s great stumbling block in his stride toward freedom is not the White Citizen’s Counciler or the Ku Klux Klanner, but the white moderate, who is more devoted to “order” than to justice; who prefers a negative peace which is the absence of tension to a positive peace which is the presence of justice; who constantly says: ‘I agree with you in the goal you seek, but I cannot agree with your methods of direct action’ ... Shallow understanding from people of good will is more frustrating than absolute misunderstanding from people of ill will. Lukewarm acceptance is much more bewildering than outright rejection.”
This passage is often omitted from excerpts read in history classrooms, but I leave it in — and I ask my students why. Why is this often left out? The answer is obvious — it makes us uncomfortable. King calls out the white moderate — you and I — for our complacency in a system that is inherently unjust, and that displeases us. We don’t like to be called out when we are wrong.
I think it is important to make clear that to read this passage in a history classroom in 2021 does not mean white children sitting in that classroom are racist. No, the question instead is — how can we as a society confront our own systems of injustice and work together to make them better?
Why is this so frightening to the powers that be? Is it perhaps because those who wrote this bill know on some level that it is precisely the unjust systems called out by people like King that keep these men in their positions of power? Is this not a last-ditch effort to try to hold on to whatever scrap of power they have left by playing on the fears of their constituents to create problems that do not actually exist?
Because if teaching the writings of Martin Luther King is “indoctrination” or blasphemous in the eyes of the Oklahoma state Legislature, then Lord help us all.