A Personal Reflection by Forest Whitaker during Black History Month 2026
Black History Month is about our collective identity.
It reminds us that America cannot be fully known without learning of the lives and contributions of Black Americans, whose labor, resilience, and courage were central to building this nation. To honor Black History Month is to honor these experiences, recognizing that these countless stories of struggle and achievement are inseparable from the History of America itself. In 1926, historian Carter G. Woodson established the first Black History Week to highlight the contributions and experiences of Black Americans. His point was that, while they were largely maintained outside of mainstream history at the time, they had been fully part of our history. We know that, for instance, an afrodescendant, Juan Portugués, landed on the continent along with Columbus in 1492. In this light, I have always respected Woodson’s dedication to preserving and teaching history.
The choices a nation makes about who it remembers, and who it leaves out, shape its values, policies, and sense of belonging. History is not passive; it actively defines national identity.
A century later, as we mark the theme “A Century of Black History Commemorations,” I reflect on how far we have come and how far we still must go. The expansion to Black History Month in 1976, amid the momentum of the Civil Rights or the Black Pride movements, was not just symbolic. It is an act and a call to action: a reminder that America’s soul cannot be whole if its history remains fragmented or incomplete. Divided we fall.
As an African American and as someone who has devoted much of my life to peacebuilding, I have seen how unresolved history fuels division. At the Whitaker Peace & Development Initiative, I witness daily how injustice, exclusion, and silence can erode communities. I have learned that peace is not simply the absence of conflict; it is the presence of justice, dignity, and equality. I believe that lasting peace cannot exist without them.
I also believe that learning Black history is not merely an academic exercise; it is a moral responsibility to ourselves and to the future. I have seen too often what happens when we fail to confront the realities of the past: we repeat the mistakes that created the inequities of the present. I teach, I learn, and I advocate for Black history because I see it as an act of social transformation.
Clearly, such work does not start or end in February, and it does not rest solely on the shoulders of Black Americans. I challenge myself, and I challenge all of us, to educate ourselves beyond textbooks, to support Black-led institutions and storytellers, and to learn the Black history rooted in our own communities. Black history is not separate from American history: one does not exist without the other.
Let’s move toward a society where lasting peace and justice are not aspirations, but realities. United we stand.