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I’ve always found it a little odd and admittedly quite frustrating how so many Americans seem to have this, I don’t know, allergy to history. Not everyone, of course. There are plenty of people who love digging into the past. But as a general vibe it would seem that Americans are history averse. In the past as the powerful empire, they were able to control the narrative. However, the past few decades many minorities, communities of colour and generally people who were not on the privileged end of the American spectrum have found their voice. This at first gave rise to the overall feeling that history was either boring, irrelevant, or, perhaps more uncomfortably, something to be avoided.
It’s not just about people falling asleep in high school history class, though that happens too. Hey, I used to be like that. I had a profound dislike for history in the first few years of secondary school. But I think there is something else afoot here. Sometimes I wonder if it’s because history, when you really look at it, isn’t just a collection of dates and names. It’s a mirror. And, let’s be honest, mirrors can be pretty unforgiving.
Take racism, for example. The story of America is tangled up with slavery, segregation, and all sorts of ugly truths. If you really sit with that, it’s hard not to feel uncomfortable. Maybe that’s the point. But who wants to feel uncomfortable? It’s easier to say, “That was a long time ago,” or, “Things are different now.” I’ve heard people say, “Why can’t we just move on?” as if moving on is as simple as flipping a page. But the thing is, the past doesn’t just disappear because we’re tired of hearing about it.
Religion is another layer. America’s got this complicated relationship with faith on one hand with freedom of religion being a founding principle, but on the other, there’s this undercurrent of neo-Christian nationalism that shapes a lot of public life. Sometimes, history challenges the stories people tell themselves about their faith and their country. That can be threatening. If you grew up believing America was chosen by God, it’s jarring to learn about the violence and hypocrisy woven into the nation’s story. Maybe that’s why some folks get defensive when history textbooks mention, say, the genocide of Indigenous peoples or the real motivations behind certain wars. Growing up in Trinidad the stories were told of America being the land of milk and honey. No. Seriously. So, can you imagine my surprise when as a young Canadian immigrant in my first trip across the border, I drove through Detroit in the 90s only to witness the result of its late-stage decline?
And then there’s politics. Oh boy. History gets weaponized all the time and is used to score points, justify policies, or discredit opponents. But at the same time, there’s this weird amnesia. Politicians will talk about “the good old days” without ever really saying what was so good about them, or for whom. I guess it’s easier to cherry-pick the past than to grapple with its messiness. I think, sometimes, knowing history means having to accept the problems we see today…racism, inequality, deep political and religious division aren’t just random. They’re part of a pattern. That’s a tough pill to swallow. It means we can’t just blame “bad apples” or pretend that everything was fine until recently.
Maybe that’s why there’s so much resistance to teaching certain topics in schools. If kids learn about redlining or Jim Crow or the real story of the Trail of Tears, they might start asking uncomfortable questions. Of course, not everyone hates history. Some people are obsessed with it. But even then, there’s a tendency to romanticize or sanitize the past. I’ve noticed that, too. Maybe it’s just human nature to want to see ourselves and our country in the best possible light. But I don’t know, maybe I’m overthinking it. Sometimes I wonder if the real issue is that history, when told honestly, forces us to confront who we are right now. And that’s not easy. It’s messy, and it doesn’t always fit neatly into the stories we want to tell about ourselves. And we had to go through that history to be where we are today. In this time.
In the end, I guess the question isn’t why Americans hate history. It’s why are they so afraid of what history might reveal about them. And whether, deep down, they are ready to face it; or even worse whether they are ready to admit that much of that history … still exists.
The History We Hide
Why do we flinch from stories old
From truths our history books have told
Is it the pain that shadows cast
Or fear of facing what’s long in the past
We say it’s dull, just names and dates
A dusty room behind closed gates
But deep inside, we sense the cost
The lessons learned, the chances lost
Racism’s roots run deep and wide
No matter how we try to hide
We claim, “It’s over, let’s move on”
But echoes linger as the day is long
Religion’s tales, so proud and bright
Can blur the line between wrong and right
We tell ourselves a chosen tale
Yet uncomfortable truths can tip the scale
And politics with clever spin
Will cherry-pick the past to win
The “good old days” are called to mind
But not for all and not so kind
To teach the past to face the pain
Means seeing patterns still remain
It’s easier to turn away
Than face the mirror day by day.
Yet if we look and truly see
The tangled roots of history
Perhaps we’ll find a better way
A brighter more inclusive day
So let us dust the mirror clear
And face the truths we so do fear
For only then can healing start
With honest mind and open heartBio: Brian Sankarsingh is a poetic firebrand, a sharp, thoughtful storyteller who walks the crossroads where Caribbean folklore, social justice, and the human condition collide. He is a truth-seeker who questions political tribes, challenges lazy platitudes, and writes with a deep pulse of empathy, always pushing for nuance whether you're exploring grief, cultural identity, or the monsters that haunt cane fields and hearts alike. He blends advocacy and art seamlessly. He is part historian, part philosopher, part bard, driven by a hunger to illuminate overlooked stories and empower marginalized voices.
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