It's my responsibility to learn
Reflections on Black History Month
This weekend, Warren and I went to Washington D.C. for a cute little day-date.
D.C. is only an hour and a half from where we live in Richmond, VA, but we hardly ever make the trek. It was so fun to get away.
We haven’t been to many of the Smithsonians, so this time we decided to check out the Hirshhorn Museum.
The Hirshhorn is currently featuring the incredible work of Simone Leigh.
Leigh’s art is centered around black feminist thought.
Her current exhibit at the Hirshhorn “combines the female body with domestic vessels or architectural elements to point to unacknowledged acts of labor and care, particularly among and for Black women.”
It’s powerful and incredibly moving - I highly recommend checking it out if you are in the area.
Part of the exhibit was a large open room, with deep leather couches, a ton of books, and a beautiful view of the city’s skyline.
In honor of Black History Month, all the books featured Black artists, writers, and activists - and they were meant to be flipped through and pondered on while taking a break from the sculptures.
I picked up a children’s book about Mary Walker - a name that sounded somewhat familiar, but I couldn’t place it.
As I read through the book, I learned that, about 60 years ago, Mary was known as “the country’s oldest student” - because she learned to read when she was 116 years old.
Mary was born a slave in 1848, freed by the Emancipation Proclamation when she was 15 and spent her life working tirelessly to provide for her children.
She had never gone to school or learned to read - and so she decided to do so at the ripe age of 116 - mostly so that she could read her Bible.
However, what surprised me most about Mary’s story is that she lived most of her life in Chattanooga, TN.
Chattanooga is the city I call home. I was born and raised just five miles over the Tennessee/Georgia border in a small town called Ringgold, GA.
When I was growing up, Chattanooga was the big city - the place we’d shop at the mall or eat at a place nicer than Golden Corral.
What surprised me most about reading that Mary lived in Chattanooga is the fact that I never remember learning about her.
I started thinking back to my years in grade school - wondering why this inspiring woman wasn’t mentioned in my history books, or even talked about by my teachers as a proud, local example of strength, fortitude, and perseverance.
As I was sitting at the Hirshhorn Museum, I started to feel a tinge of judgment and frustration towards the education system — and toward larger societal systems that amplify some voices, while ignoring others.
We could likely talk for hours about the impact systemic racism has had on our society— certainly, we have all been impacted by the bias that lives within our history books.
However, to focus my attention on things that are directly within my control, I want to share a more personal thought - which is that, as an adult, I am the only one responsible for my learning.
I didn’t learn about Mary Walker as a child, but I also haven’t attempted to learn about her in the two-plus decades since becoming an adult.
As I reflect on Black History Month, I want to do so with the acknowledgment that, as an adult, it’s not the world’s job to teach me about Black history.
Rather, it is my responsibility to inquire, read, and learn.
The most important thing I can do this month, and every month, is to invest in my own education - not because it’s the “right” thing to do, but because seeking out the stories of historically underrepresented voices helps me uncover and address my own biases, develop more empathy and understanding, and ultimately helps me work toward a more peaceful and inclusive world.
I’m struck by the fact that this same idea can be applied to the process of seeking therapy.
Any therapist can tell you that a lot of the content discussed in therapy offices centers around things we learned, or did not learn, as children.
Unlearning these unhelpful patterns is critical work for our healing. And the uncomfortable reality is that, as adults, the onus of responsibility for this learning and growth rests solely on our shoulders.
We each have a choice between staying stuck in old, archaic patterns or stepping out into new and edifying growth.
Does this bring any thoughts to mind as you reflect on Black History Month or the process of growth and learning? If so, I’d love to hear your thoughts.
Feel free to drop a comment below, or respond to this email - I always love hearing from you.
Warmly,
Rachel
Rachel McCrickard, LMFT
CEO/Co-Founder, Motivo
rachel@motivohealth.com