In 1926, Carter G. Woodson initiated what was then known as Negro History Week. It was intended more as a correction than a celebration.
Woodson was of the view that the United States was grappling with a dangerous misrepresentation: were crucial to the nation’s development, yet were largely absent from the way its history was recounted. He was aware of the consequences of this omission. When a group of people is left out of the national narrative, it becomes easier to exclude them from classrooms, boardrooms, financial statements, and positions of power.
History is not merely a matter of memory; it subtly shapes how a country perceives itself. It has an impact on policy discussions, public priorities, and assumptions about who fits where.
This year marks the 100th anniversary of what later became . In 2026, the United States will reach its 250th year. At this juncture, Woodson’s message is not about ceremony but about direction.
His own life demonstrated such clarity. Born in 1875 to formerly enslaved parents, Woodson worked in coal mines before pursuing an education with exceptional discipline. He obtained a Ph.D. from Harvard – only the second Black American to do so – not as a symbol, but as a means of asserting intellectual authority in a country that often denied it. In 1915, he founded the Association for the Study of Negro Life and History. A decade later, he established Negro History Week so that Black contributions would be regarded not as marginal add – ons, but as fundamental to the American story.
Woodson recognized that being invisible has consequences. If people are absent from the narrative, it becomes easier to justify excluding them from opportunities, jobs, capital, housing, or leadership positions.
A century later, this insight still rings true.
The United States remains the world’s largest economy and one of the wealthiest nations in history. However, tens of millions of Americans face persistent financial instability. Many feel that upward mobility is more difficult to achieve than it used to be. Some wonder if the system was designed with them in mind at all.
When large parts of the population feel excluded from the economic narrative, the effects spread. Distrust increases. Institutions are under strain. Economic growth becomes more fragile. This is not just a moral issue; it is an economic one.
Woodson did not seek sympathy. He demanded accuracy. He believed that the country would be stronger if it told the whole truth about itself without distortion. A clearer understanding of history, he argued, would enhance confidence rather than erode it.
supports this. After the Civil War, redefining citizenship changed the nation’s course. In the 20th century, the increased participation of women transformed the workforce and the economy. The Civil Rights Movement opened up markets and institutions that had been closed for a long time. Each of these expansions faced opposition. Each ultimately broadened the country’s growth base.
As the United States approaches its 250th anniversary, we are faced with a choice about how to define the next chapter. We can view opportunities as scarce and tightly controlled. Or we can recognize that untapped talent is one of the country’s greatest competitive advantages.
The about who matters often precede the policies we create. If we mainly describe millions of Americans as burdens, our institutions will reflect that assumption. If we recognize them as contributors, we are more likely to build systems that utilize their capabilities rather than marginalize them.
In an era characterized by rapid technological change and intense global competition, nations do not decline because they lack tools. They decline when they fail to develop the full potential of their people. Countries that waste talent stagnate. Countries that develop it thrive.
Patriotism, in this sense, is less about nostalgia and more about stewardship. It requires us to ask whether we are expanding the promise of the country or quietly limiting it.
Woodson believed that would strengthen America’s self – confidence. For him, inclusion was not a matter of sentiment but of practicality. He was confident that the American story could withstand the whole truth.
This year, the question is not whether we . It is whether we continue its work. The American experiment has never relied on perfection; it has relied on adjustment, expanding the scope while strengthening the core at the same time.
Woodson adjusted the narrative so that a more inclusive country could emerge. Our current responsibility is similar: to tell a story broad enough to encompass the full range of American talent and to build an economy that reflects that belief.
The direction we choose will shape the character of , whether it is confident or anxious, open or defensive. Woodson provided a model a century ago. The more challenging question is whether we are willing to implement it.
