Black History Month began as Negro History Week in 1926, founded by historian Carter G. Woodson. Its purpose was not simply to celebrate Black people in general, but to correct the deliberate exclusion of Black Americans from the historical narrative of the United States.
Woodson established Negro History Week to highlight the history, contributions, and achievements of Black Americans—particularly those descended from enslaved people who helped build the nation while being denied freedom, education, citizenship, and recognition. At the time, American textbooks either ignored Black Americans entirely or portrayed them only through the lens of enslavement, stripping them of agency, intellect, and accomplishment.
The observance was scheduled to coincide with the birthdays of Abraham Lincoln (February 12) and Frederick Douglass (February 14), figures deeply connected to the abolition of slavery and the moral, political, and intellectual struggle for Black freedom in America. This timing underscored the central role Black Americans played in shaping the nation’s democratic ideals.
Black History Month exists to honor the unique experience of Black Americans—people who endured chattel slavery, segregation, and systemic oppression in the United States, yet made enduring contributions to its economy, culture, faith, science, politics, and social progress. While people of African descent across the globe share ancestral ties, Black History Month specifically recognizes the distinct historical journey and nation-building role of Black Americans.
Why Clarity Matters in Black History Month
Many may feel slighted when the original purpose of Black History Month is clearly stated. Yet clarity is not exclusion. When the observance is broadened to include all people of African descent regardless of history, it unintentionally diminishes the very experience it was created to honor.
Black History Month exists to recognize Black Americans—a people formed through chattel slavery in the United States and shaped by a unique historical reality. The suffering endured, the laws survived, and the contributions made in building this nation cannot be universally attributed to all Black populations across the globe. They are specific, costly, and historically documented.
Much of the division among people of color has been fueled by a society that lumps us together, erasing distinctions between cultures, histories, and lived experiences. When this happens, the brutal legacy of American slavery and the extraordinary contributions of those who endured it are often mis-assigned or diluted, as though they belong equally to all. They do not.
There is also a painful reality that must be acknowledged: many who come to the United States without this ancestral history sometimes judge Black Americans through harmful stereotypes—labeling us as angry, lazy, or undeserving—while simultaneously seeking inclusion in the struggles and sacrifices they did not inherit. This contradiction deepens misunderstanding rather than healing it.
Honoring Black Americans during Black History Month does not deny the dignity or worth of our brothers and sisters from other regions. It simply preserves historical truth. Recognition loses meaning when it becomes imprecise. Understanding is weakened when distinctions are ignored.
Black History Month is not about division. It is about accuracy, remembrance, and respect—for a people whose labor, faith, resistance, and brilliance helped build this nation, often without credit, protection, or reward. Clarity does not diminish unity; it grounds it.
Another Black History Note
The Seventh-day Adventist Church was not founded to condemn slavery, per se, but its formation was inseparable from a moral refusal to remain silent in the face of it. In nineteenth-century America, when many churches compromised, divided, or spiritualized injustice, Adventists named slavery for what it was—sin.
At the heart of this conviction was Ellen G. White, who called slavery “a high crime against heaven” and rejected the misuse of Scripture to justify human bondage. She taught that Christian neutrality in the face of injustice was itself a moral failure, and that obedience to God must take precedence over obedience to unjust laws. (See Testimonies for the Church, volume 1 (Battle Creek, MI: Seventh-day Adventist Publishing Association, 1855-1850), 202-202, where she refers to slavery as a national sin and states that God was bringing judgment upon the United States for “the high crime of slavery.”)
From its earliest years, the Seventh-day Adventist Church refused fellowship with pro-slavery Christians, supported abolitionist efforts, and insisted that faith could not be separated from human dignity. Justice was not a side issue—it was theological. A church that honored God while crushing people, Ellen White argued, had misunderstood both. (See Spiritual Gifts, vol. 1 (Battle Creek, MI: Seventh-day Adventist Publishing Association, 1858, 189-191) discussing her extended vision on slavery, the moral accountability of slaveholders, and God’s judgment against the system itself.)
Adventists were not the only Christians to oppose slavery. Black churches, Quakers, and abolitionist believers led courageously. Yet Adventism stands out as one of the few denominations willing to integrate abolition into doctrine rather than delay repentance until it was safe.
That legacy still speaks. Silence in the face of injustice is not humility—it is complicity. The question is not whether the church once had a conscience, but whether it is still willing to use it.
For further reading:
Spiritual Gifts. Vol. 1. Battle Creek, MI: Seventh-day Adventist Publishing Association, 1858.
Testimonies for the Church. Vol. 1. Battle Creek, MI: Seventh-day Adventist Publishing Association, 1855–1859.
The Southern Work. Nashville, TN: Southern Publishing Association, 1898.
Knight, George R. A Search for Identity: The Development of Seventh-day Adventist Beliefs. Hagerstown, MD: Review and Herald Publishing Association, 2000.
Morgan, Douglas. Adventism and the American Republic. Knoxville, TN: University of Tennessee Press, 2001.
