Become a history expander.
We need all of us in this fight.
February always reminds me about the power of history, and whose stories get told.
Because (let’s say it again together) Black history is American history. All day long. 365/24/7.
And, as we celebrate the 100th anniversary of Carter Woodson’s original concept of a week celebrating all of the Black Americans who have contributed so much to that history and whose names were being left out of history books at the same time, I can’t stop asking myself: What if this month isn’t just about learning more history?
What if it’s about expanding it?
I’ve been thinking a lot about the idea of becoming a history expander - someone who refuses to accept the narrow version of the past we were handed and instead actively widens the frame. Someone who asks: Who’s missing? Who benefits from this version? What stories were deemed too inconvenient, too complicated, or too powerful to include?
When I was fortunate enough to spend time talking to an entire school of three hundred K-8 students this week as part of their weekly Community Gathering, we got to talk about stories of Black Americans who were often overlooked in textbooks, conversations, or narratives that followed a convenient, flattened, distorted view of America. We focused on the everyday brilliance, creativity, resistance, joy, and complexity of inventors who have often been overlooked, and who have regularly had their stories discounted instead of celebrated.
But we should be celebrating their stories. And what better way to celebrate than to keep telling their stories?
Because expanding history doesn’t mean erasing anyone. It means adding. It means layering. It means telling a fuller truth.
We ended with my ask to them, that they become history expanders once they walked out of the Community Gathering and back into their classrooms, families and communities.
This work feels deeply personal to me. My grandfather believed in, and indeed built his studies and focus around, telling the stories of those who didn’t have their stories told. He understood that history isn’t just what gets printed in textbooks — it’s what gets remembered around dinner tables, what gets preserved in family albums, what gets passed down when someone says, “Let me tell you what really happened.”
He knew that silence is not neutral. Silence protects power.
And I think about that a lot as a parent, as an advocate, as someone who believes that the stories we tell shape the world we’re building. If our children only inherit a narrow version of the past, they will imagine a narrow version of what’s possible. If they only see certain people as leaders, innovators, heroes, and change-makers, they will internalize who is “supposed” to lead.
Becoming a history expander means disrupting that.
It means recognizing that curriculum decisions are value decisions. That book bans are about whose humanity is considered dangerous. That when we fight over what can be taught, we are really fighting over who belongs.
And it also means something more intimate.
It means asking our elders about their lives before it’s too late.
It means correcting misinformation gently but firmly.
It means teaching our kids to ask better questions when they encounter a single story.
Because history isn’t fixed. It’s curated.
So here’s what I’m inviting us to do — not just in February, but always:
1. Audit Your Narrative
Look at the books on your shelves, the stories you tell your kids, the examples you use in conversation. Who shows up? Who doesn’t? Add one new voice this month - a memoir, a biography, a documentary - that expands your understanding of American history beyond the usual frame.
2. Have the Uncomfortable Conversation
When someone says, “Why do we need a Black History Month?” or “Isn’t this divisive?” - engage. Not to win, but to widen. Ask questions. Listen. Ask more questions. Offer context. Share why a fuller history strengthens all of us.
3. Preserve a Story
Call a family member. Record a memory. Write down something you’ve never written before. Be the bridge between generations. Don’t let a story disappear because no one thought to ask.
My grandfather believed that telling the untold stories was an act of justice. I believe that too.
We don’t have to be historians to expand history.
We just have to be willing to widen the frame.
To more history expanders,
