February draws our attention to pages we’ve traditionally skipped over in our retelling of America’s story: Black history. These days, anything I deem important gets “put on the calendar.” It’s true for countries as much as individuals.
There is power in a good liturgy. Liturgy shapes a people over time through repetition and rehearsal. Having Black History Month as a part of our annual American liturgy shapes our past remembrance, present sympathy, and future hope.
However, a danger lurks for us in Black History Month. It’s the subconscious mentality that African-American heroes are heroes for African-Americans—only.
But Black history is American history. As an American Lit teacher, I’ve seen firsthand that a majority of our great works wrestle with slavery, racism, and human dignity in the American context.
The Narrative of the Life of Frederick Douglass is one such work. In his autobiography, a 27 year-old escaped slave has the audacity to put himself forward not merely as an African-American hero—but an American hero.
At a time when slavery was still thriving in the South and racism ruled in the North, Douglass pedestals himself as the ideal American. He chronicles his struggle against all odds to learn to read, write, and fight. He styles himself an American icon glowing with idealistic hope and indefatigable industry.
Douglass writes of his decision to escape American slavery: “We did more than Patrick Henry . . . with us it was a doubtful liberty at most, and almost certain death if we failed. For my part, I should prefer death to hopeless bondage.”
Inasmuch as we lionize the American who quipped, “Give me liberty or give me death!” much more shall we emulate the slave who believed in, fought for, and ran toward a better America—one where he was no longer property but a proper American.
The man who emerges triumphant from the bloody pages of his Narrative is bold enough to proclaim with Langston Hughes, “I, too, sing America.”
This Black History Month, make time to sit down and read Douglass’s powerful Narrative. In it we find the best in Frederick Douglass—and in Douglass, the best in what makes an American.
A few years back, I stumbled upon this old pancake recipe from the Library of Congress found among the effects of Rosa Parks. These “featherlite pancakes” are a piece of Black history and a delicious recipe no matter the month of the year!
Rosa Parks’ Featherlite Pancakes
Ingredients
2 c flour
4 tbsp baking powder
1 tsp salt
4 tbsp sugar
2 eggs
2.5 c milk
2 tbsp melted butter or cooking oil
2/3 c peanut butter
Make it:
Set pancake griddle to 275° (temp actually matters for these!)
Whisk together dry ingredients in a large bowl.
In a separate bowl, beat eggs and melted butter/oil together. With a large spoon, mix in peanut butter. Add milk to peanut butter mixture, initially mixing with spoon then whisking until combined.
Whisk wet ingredients into dry ingredients until incorporated.
Ladle out onto griddle and flip when top looks bubbled and fairly dry.
Serve with powdered sugar, strawberries, and jam (for that authentic pb & j flavor) or syrup!