Don’t Know Much About History
I loved history classes in high school. I especially loved American history. And when I headed off to college, three minors were required, so why not history?
History is perspective. We each see from a different view based on our past experiences, time passed from events, demographics and psychographics. And my early view of American history was shaped by growing up in a small town in south central Nebraska in the eighties. As you can imagine, my textbooks were presented from a specific lens.
I thought I was relatively well versed in the events that shaped our country. Until recently.
Over the past decade, and especially the past few years, I’ve witnessed a richer, not particularly flattering, perspective of our American history.
I have historian friends who are grappling with telling these richer stories to include all Americans in a broader public setting. Primarily, because there are several in the country who do not believe these different narratives–or choose not to–and push back, as witnessed by our current local political climate and campaigns.
In Nebraska, our history starts with the land. The stories of the acquisition of the land from the Indigenous People that I learned in my youth are a stark contrast from the entire reality.
On a recent visit to a central Nebraska museum, I came across a portrait of Ponca Chief Standing Bear from an exhibit that probably hasn’t been changed since my youth. Next to it was this quotation attributed to him:
“I thought God intended us to live. But I was mistaken. God intends to give the country to the White people, and we are to die.”
If you read further it tells of the courageous story of Standing Bear defending his tribe. But if I only read the standalone quote, I would have a biased view of what this curator wanted me to know about Standing Bear. Let alone, after doing some homework, the quotation was out of context.
Consider, thirty years later, Chief Standing Bear finding a place representing Nebraska in the U.S. Capitol Statuary Hall. And a place on Nebraska’s Centennial Mall next to this quotation:
“That hand is not the color of yours, but if I pierce it, I shall feel pain,” he famously said. “If you pierce your hand you also feel pain. The blood that will flow from mine will be of the same color as yours. The same god made us both. I am a man.”
History, by its nature, is the indelible past. As I hear these more inclusive views of our history, I’m left with a range of emotion. Enlightened to know more. Frustrated that certain events even happened. Confused as to what action I can personally take in the present.
The absolute very least I can do is find ways to honor the ancestors of this land through accurate storytelling. For instance, I can fully support changing Columbus Day to Indigenous People Day.
I also have to ask myself, how can I make way for their descendants to thrive?
In the category of frustrated by events that have happened, I can point to several moments in black history in America. I’m particularly maddened by the Tulsa Massacre. I can’t even imagine what it was like to witness a thriving black neighborhood in America, senselessly destroyed.
I know there are too many examples across our great nation of this aggression, even close to home. Tulsa just stands out.
I wonder of an America that could have been.
A few weeks ago I went to Jeffrey Robinson’s Who We Are at the Ross in Lincoln. This is a powerful and humbling lecture on racism in America. He speaks of the Tulsa Massacre as a tipping point where America had a chance to be better. To be inclusive. To truly allow freedom and the pursuit of happiness. To be the true melting pot we have claimed to be.
As I’ve mentioned, I struggle reconciling my sense of patriotism for the history of my youth and know I must consider the additional truths.
Robinson gives me guidance on my struggle, “America has demonstrated its greatness time and time again. And America is one of the most racist countries on the face of the Earth. Those two things are not mutually exclusive.”
They are not mutually exclusive.
I need to consider we all are imperfect humans and historical figures lived within a context I can not fully comprehend from today’s vantage point. But understanding America’s imperfections should guide us to be better humans.
Mark Twain says, “history doesn’t repeat itself, but it does rhyme.” Robinson claims that we are now at a tipping point. Can we write a better verse for the next generation?
