By: Dr. Phyllis Bivins-Hudson
Well, it’s Black History Month again and I’m excited.
Not because it’s Black History Month, because I see every month as Black History Month since I am Black, I live Black, and I breathe Black.
However, my excitement comes because it is a time for me to focus on my culture in a way that requires self-reflection and sharing with others. 
So, in reflecting on my culture, I have come to the conclusion that most of the world has been exposed to our culture through many vehicles, venues, etc.
We see this in the behavior of people.
For instance, I don’t pay much attention to the manner in which my people walk, talk, dress, dance, wear their hair or create music because I have come to expect that from us.
And when I speak, I am being exclusive. By that I mean, I am not referencing all Black people in this conversation.
Instead, my focus is on foundational Black people—that is, those Black people who are here as a result of their ancestors being enslaved and forced to America beginning in 1619, with some research indicating that we were here even before that time. It is these people whose gait, speech, fashion, dance moves, hairstyles, and music of which I speak.
When I see the special gait to which I am referring, I can generally point out that this is a foundational Black whether it is a foundational Black man or a foundational Black woman.
This isn’t always the case, but a good majority of the time.
The walk is unique and innate, genetic even.
So when I see other men or women with that walk or a facsimile of it, I pay attention to it because it seems to be an anomaly for them.
It makes me look twice at them, and I almost always comment on it. It’s not a bad thing, just an unusual thing. Perhaps it is justifiably innate or genetic in some of them too, but certainly not the majority of them.
Many of the men and women to whom I am referring, make it a point to practice that foundational walk, setting them apart from other men in their culture. But the foundational Black man or foundational Black woman doesn’t have to practice the walk, it is a part of our swag.
The men dip and the women sway. We say about our men that they have swag, which is how he walks or the way he talks. It could even be in the way he moves his head or his stance.
Ultimately, they have style, personality, and a kind of edginess that cannot be duplicated.
As for the women, I recently heard a White man say, if you want to be in a good place, you need to have a Black woman on your closest friend list. You need her because she’s wise and because she’s going to be honest about you when you ask her for her opinion about you. She’ll go the extra mile for you and she won’t compromise her values and/or morals.
Of course, this is up for debate to some degree when we look at some of what’s happening with so many of our young women today, but on a broader scale, I think I would have to agree with the man.
Then there is our speech. While it has been said that there is no single authentic way of speaking for any group of people, I hear myself, as well as others in my culture speaking with certain nuances that are a part of my people.
The cadences are different, the tones are too, and the speech patterns are as well. I am not referring to the phrase “Sounding Black”, which is seen as a stereotype about Blackness. I am referring to some of the rich, lower-pitched, and dominant-sounding voices of many of the men and women in our culture or the unique linguistic styles and vernaculars used by us.
These voices are used to communicate; however, they are also identifiers. And when foundational Black people speak, even with eyes closed, it is usually easy to identify the voice—whether male or female—as a Black voice.
It is no secret that we set the tone for how people dress. This is something that has followed us throughout our time in this country. Even when we were enslaved people, with mere rags to wear, whatever clothing we had, we presented ourselves in them looking our very best.
Looking our best also meant making sure everything was clean and pressed. We always found multiple ways to wear the same outfit and multiple ways of accessorizing the same outfit so that it was presented as different each time it was worn.
We also know dancing has always been a part of every culture. However, the way we dance, the way our bodies sway with the music in rhythmic movement and style, the creative steps, and the unheard-of ways our bodies can move, make dancing for us like breathing.
And it isn’t just for entertainment, there is so much symbolism in both our music and our movement. Everything we do is done with a rhythm that almost seems it’s predicated on dance.
And let us not forget the hair, a huge part of our culture. In our culture, hair serves as a symbol of identity, resistance, and heritage. It connects us to our roots and helps us to demonstrate our Black pride no matter if the hairstyle is natural or not. We can do so much with our hair.
Thinking about its versatility reminds me of a poem I penned back in 1993. In talking about the versatility of our hair, it reads in part:
And then there is that age-old question of my hair. / Yes, that sometimes smooth, silky, soft, or wiry, coarse, rough, but always good stuff that may appear kinky and unruly; / but I beg to differ with you; / ‘cause my kinks are really curls. /
In case you didn’t know, the African in me gives me versatility and with it, my do can be done to a “T”. /
‘Cause I can: / Straighten it, straw it, scarf it, slick it, or spike it, / Perm it, plait it, press it, or pin it. / I can even curl it, cut it, crop it, crochet it. / Twirl it or twist it, tease it, tie it, tail it, tint it, trim it, / Or finger it, freeze it, fro it, frizz it, flatten it, fake it, /
Or relax it, roll it, rod it, / And I can braid it, blow it, bob it, or brush it. / Gel it or grow it, / Lock it, lengthen it, lessen it, lay it, lop it, / or wrap it, wig it, weave it, wave it, / Then dye it, dry it, / Hat it, or hide it. / ‘Cause like my people, it is unique and accentuated only by its own authenticity.
Then there’s music. Ours has been around for as long as time, tracing its roots back to Africa. Now our music can be heard and duplicated worldwide. It has been infused into almost every culture imaginable.
There are the rich tones of R&B, the bending notes of Jazz, the rhythmic beats and rapping vocals of hip hop, and the soul-stirring movements of gospel.
Music is embedded in our very souls and needs very little encouragement to be evoked. Regarding all this culture, when we look onto the world stage, we see people imitating our men and women in the way they walk. 
We see men and women with braids, locks, and other styles that are typically reserved for Black people. Appropriation is real! So this Black History Month, I’m thinking more about the foundational people of this country rather than the individuals to whom we pay homage every year during the shortest month of the calendar.
I respect them all—Dr. King, Sojourner Truth, Harriet Tubman, etc., but my thinking was diverted this time in a direction that I thought I’d share with my readers, hoping you will leave with something to think more about more deeply.
Until next time, keep flying on your own wings. Happy Black History Month and happy Valentine’s Day too.