All People Have the Right to Be Respected!

I came across an article the other day in which Nashville International Airport announced plans to rename the airport in honor of the legendary Dolly Parton. I think that's a wonderful idea because Dolly has always been a genuine and respectful person to everyone, regardless of race. However, DJ Envy raised an interesting question about why there aren't more airports named after Black icons. It’s a thought-provoking question, though the news article didn’t answer it. Given the current cultural and social divisions, especially with the media being very cautious, I wasn’t really expecting them to share all the details openly. 

Many significant public places in the United States, like airports, sports arenas, government buildings, universities, and highways, are not named after well-known Black Americans. This largely stems from historical and ongoing disparities in political power, wealth, influence, and control over public memory, which play a big role in whose names are chosen. Understanding this helps us see how history shapes the names around us. 

Naming reflects who had power when many institutions were created. A large portion of America's major infrastructure was established during periods when Black Americans were largely excluded from political and economic power. Airports, courthouses, universities, civic buildings, highways, and stadiums expanded dramatically during the late 19th and 20th centuries. For much of that period, especially before the Civil Rights Movement, Black Americans faced: 

·      Legal segregation and discrimination.

·      Disenfranchisement.

·      Restricted access to higher education.

·      Barriers to professional advancement.

·      Exclusion from many political offices.

·      Restrictions on property ownership and economic opportunities.

·      Segregated public institutions.

As a result, the decision-makers responsible for choosing who gets commemorated have been predominantly white and often male. This is important because public naming isn’t just about fame; it’s about who holds the power to decide whose name appears on the landscape. 

America's public memory has traditionally centered on a specific version of history, from the white perspective. For many generations, stories about American history have mainly highlighted presidents, military leaders, industrialists, explorers, wealthy businessmen, and political figures. Unfortunately, the incredible contributions of Black Americans were often left out of this familiar narrative, even though they played a vital role. Consider figures such as: 

·      George Washington Carver.

·      Frederick Douglass.

·      Jean Baptiste Point Du Sable

·      Robert Smalls.

·      Harriet Tubman.

·      Bethune Cookman

·      Booker T. Washington.

·      W. E. B. Du Bois.

·      Thurgood Marshall.

·      Dr. Daniel Hale Williams.

·      Dr. Charles Drew.

·      Benjamin Banneker.

·      Martin Luther King Jr.

·      Rosa Parks.

·      Jackie Robinson.

·      Mae Jemison.

·      Mary Jackson

·      Catherine Johnson

·      Dorothy Vaughn

·      Ida B Wells

Many of these individuals are now well recognized, but that doesn’t always mean major institutions are named after them. These are just a few examples, and many others have had their patents renamed or stolen, yet they still contributed to safety, convenience, and comfort for all Americans. The Civil Rights Movement brought about significant changes relatively recently, especially since the 1960s. Today, you’ll see more schools, streets, libraries, parks, government buildings, bridges, and other facilities named after Black Americans. A well-known example is Martin Luther King Jr.— hundreds of streets, schools, buildings, and public spaces now bear his name. However, it’s important to distinguish between different kinds of recognition: having a street named after someone is meaningful, but it’s quite different from prestigious honors like naming an international airport, major university, professional sports arena, or nationally prominent institution after that person. These high-profile recognitions are often harder to achieve because they’re tied to institutions with enormous economic, political, and cultural importance. 

Wealth really plays a big role in how places are named, but it's a topic that often doesn't get enough attention. Nowadays, many new stadiums and arenas aren’t named after historical figures at all. Instead, they’re often named after corporations, since these companies pay good money for the right to have their names displayed. For instance, a company might spend millions of dollars to keep its name on an arena for many years. This creates a new naming system that reflects financial influence. 

As professional sports have grown more commercial, corporate naming rights have often replaced honoring historical figures as namesakes. Nowadays, the focus isn't just on asking, "Which great American deserves to have this arena named after them?” but also about considering, "Which corporation or family is willing to pay for the naming rights?" 

Airports are particularly complicated. Airports often retain names connected to: 

·      Local politicians.

·      Former mayors.

·      Presidents.

·      Military figures.

·      Aviation pioneers.

·      Business leaders.

·      Geographic locations.

Some interesting exceptions are worth mentioning. For example, New York's main airport is named after John F. Kennedy, and Atlanta's airport proudly honors Maynard Jackson, the first Black mayor of Atlanta and the first Black mayor of a major Southern city. Additionally, New Orleans' international airport was renamed in honor of Louis Armstrong. This is especially meaningful because Armstrong wasn't just a famous musician—he became the namesake of a major international airport. So, it’s not that such cases don't exist, but rather that they are less common, and the distribution of such honors is unequal. 

There was also intentional omission of Black historical achievements. It's important to understand this carefully. While it's too simple to say every omission was due to a conspiracy to deny Black people recognition, it’s true that systems in place historically often downplayed Black accomplishments. During segregation and the Jim Crow era, American history education usually reflected a predominantly white perspective. Black achievements were frequently left out, understated, or mainly portrayed through slavery and racial oppression. This created an interesting contradiction: Black Americans learned about their ancestors' suffering, but not always about their impressive contributions in fields like science, the military, entrepreneurship, art, politics, and technology. When society doesn't teach these contributions, future generations are less likely to honor those who have made significant impacts by naming institutions after them. 

A name on a building is more than just a label. Think about two airports: Airport A, named after a wealthy industrialist whose achievements are mostly recognized locally, and Airport B, named for a Black scientist who revolutionized agriculture and impacted many Americans. Every traveler arriving at Airport B sees that person's name, turning the building into a living lesson in history. This simple act of naming can educate and inspire without a classroom. That’s why choosing names thoughtfully truly matters. 

Every time people drive down a street named after King, enter an airport named after Armstrong, or attend a school named after Tubman, society is essentially saying: "This person's contribution is important enough for us to remember." However, it's important to remember that Black Americans are a diverse group, and they don't always see eye to eye. Sometimes, even within Black communities, people have different opinions about whom to honor. For example, the question arises: should a building be named after: 

·      A civil rights leader?

·      A scientist?

·      An educator?

·      A military veteran?

·      An entrepreneur?

·      An artist?

·      An athlete?

·      A politician?

·      A religious leader?

·      A local community activist?    

For example, Colin Powell exemplifies notable military and government achievement, whereas Duke Ellington symbolizes remarkable cultural accomplishment. Countless deserving candidates exist. The real challenge is deciding whose legacy should represent an entire city, state, university, or institution. 

Local Black history is often overlooked, but it's such an important part of the story. Thousands of Black Americans have made incredible contributions to their communities, even if they never gained national fame. A city might have had:

·      A Black physician who established the first hospital serving Black residents

·      A teacher who educated generations of children

·      A business owner who employed hundreds

·      A minister who organized community development

·      A veteran who fought for the country despite facing discrimination at home

·      An entrepreneur who built businesses during segregation

·      A civil-rights organizer who risked imprisonment or violence

Yet a major building may still bear the name of someone whose contribution to the community was considerably less significant. That raises a legitimate question: Are we preserving the history of the people who built our communities, or simply preserving the history of those who already possessed the power to have their names preserved?

Over the past few decades, we've seen a wonderful increase in how Black Americans are honored in public spaces. Today, you'll find airports, schools, highways, courthouses, libraries, parks, monuments, universities, and public buildings that celebrate and acknowledge their invaluable contributions. 

As of July 6, 2023, Ebony Magazine listed these Eight Black Airports: 

·      James Herman Banning Ames Municipal Airport—Ames, Iowa

·      Frederick Douglass Greater Rochester International Airport—Rochester, New York

·      Birmingham-Shuttlesworth International Airport—Birmingham, Alabama

·      Baltimore/Washington International Thurgood Marshall Airport—Baltimore, Maryland

·      Louisville Muhammad Ali International Airport—Louisville, Kentucky

·      Jackson-Medgar Wiley Evers International Airport—Jackson, Mississippi

·      Maynard Jackson, Hartsfield-Jackson Atlanta International Airport—Atlanta, Georgia

·      Louis Armstrong New Orleans International Airport—New Orleans, Louisiana

Please note that all these individuals have passed away and are widely recognized, so they are not alive to rename airports after themselves. The process is often controversial. Renaming an existing institution, especially while the namesake is living, can generate opposition because people argue that: 

·      Historical names shouldn't be erased.

·      Renaming is too expensive.

·      The original namesake should remain part of history.

·      The proposed namesake is politically controversial.

·      The change is motivated by politics rather than historical merit.

·      Authority does not give anyone the right to rename an existing institution.

Those arguments deserve consideration. But an equally important counterargument is this: Changing a name does not erase history. A historical marker can explain who previously held the name and why it was changed.

At the heart of your question isn't just about why more things aren't named after Black Americans. Instead, it prompts us to think about who truly gets remembered as a builder of America. The country's physical landscape — from airports and universities to highways, courthouses, monuments, military bases, buildings, and stadiums — acts like a map of American influence and memory. Sadly, this map hasn't always shown the full story of Black Americans' contributions. The aim isn't to replace one set of names with another but to craft a historical landscape that genuinely honors everyone who helped shape America, including those Black Americans whose roles have often been overlooked. That's a much more meaningful goal than just adding more names. Recognition should come from contribution, not race. However, when a whole group of contributors has been overlooked for so long, it's important to set things right and ensure historical accuracy.

Channeling Negative Energy During Political Times!

We find ourselves in an era where political messages are everywhere we turn. From television commercials and social media posts to radio broadcasts, emails, and texts, there's always something trying to catch our attention each day. Sadly, many of these messages aim not to lift us up, but to stir fear, anger, resentment, and division. If we're not mindful, it's easy to let this negativity seep in, influencing how we feel, connect with others, and even impact our spiritual health. 

The first step in managing negative energy is to identify where it's coming from. Political ads and media outlets often thrive on emotional responses, knowing that outrage keeps us hooked. Staying informed matters, but repeatedly soaking in negative political content can drain our energy and leave us exhausted, anxious, and angry. Wise choices help us know when to stay engaged and when to take a step back. 

Instead of letting negative energy take over our thoughts, we have the wonderful opportunity to channel it into something constructive. When we feel anger, it can serve as a powerful motivator to help our communities. Frustration can turn into a driving force to volunteer, mentor young people, support a neighbor, or stand up for causes that promote justice and compassion. Instead of wasting energy on endless arguments, we can choose to invest it in actions that create positive change. 

Protect our hearts. Remember, political differences shouldn't make us forget the shared humanity of everyone who disagrees with us. Behind every vote, opinion, and party affiliation, there's a person with their own fears, hopes, struggles, and experiences. Engaging in respectful conversations can build bridges much better than hostile confrontations. While we might not sway every opinion, we can always stay true to our character and integrity, showing kindness and understanding along the way. 

From a spiritual perspective, peace isn't about election results, political parties, or media personalities. Instead, real peace comes from trusting that God is still in control, even when the world feels chaotic. Scripture encourages us to keep our minds on what is true, honorable, just, pure, and praiseworthy. When the noise of politics feels overwhelming, taking time for prayer, reflection, and spending time with loved ones can help us find our balance and refresh our spirits. 

In these political times, the real challenge isn't just figuring out what we believe—it's also about who we choose to become because of those beliefs. We have the choice to fall into bitterness, anger, and division, or to embrace wisdom, compassion, and self-control. Negative energy is always around, but it doesn't have to control us. By channeling that energy into positive actions, meaningful engagement, and spiritual growth, we can become part of the solution instead of just adding to the noise. 

Why, Lord, Am I So Disobedient When the Angels, Saints, and the Others Around You Are Obedient?

         Why, Lord, do I find myself struggling with obedience when the angels obey Your commands, the saints earnestly seek to follow Your ways, and others around me seem to surrender their lives completely to You? I wonder why I sometimes know what is right but still choose what is wrong. I hear Your voice in my spirit, understand Your guidance, and yet I hesitate, question, resist, or sometimes choose to go my own way. It’s comforting to know You understand my struggles and are always there, ready to guide me back to You. 

Maybe the answer lies in the tension between the flesh and the spirit. Knowing Your Will won’t always mean I’m eager to follow it. My mind might grasp the truth, but my heart could hold back. My spirit might whisper, “Go,” while my flesh suggests, “Wait.” I see the path You’ve set before me, yet I often get sidetracked by fear, pride, comfort, ambition, temptation, or the opinions of others. Sometimes, I find myself wishing for Your blessings without always wanting to embrace the obedience that comes with them. 

Lord, the angels are free from the human limitations that I experience, as they serve in accordance with their divine purpose. The saints who came before me faced trials, persecution, disappointment, and suffering, yet many stayed faithful. I see among us those who have learned to trust You even when the outcomes are unseen. Their obedience inspires me, reminding me that faith isn't just about believing in You—it's about trusting You enough to follow Your path. 

Lord, I honestly admit that obeying You can sometimes be challenging for me. There are moments when I crave explanations before I take the next step. I wonder where You’re leading me, what tomorrow holds, who will be by my side, and if the path will be smooth. Yet, I know that faith often means moving forward without seeing the full picture. Just like Abraham had to leave what was familiar, Moses had to go back to Egypt, Noah had to build before the rain, and Peter had to step out of the boat—each of them trusted You even without proof. My biggest challenge is that I like to be in control, and trusting You means letting go of that control. 

I acknowledge that You are Lord, yet there are moments when I behave as if I am the ruler of my own life. I ask You to bless my plans, instead of seeking Your guidance in them. I pray for Your will, but sometimes I secretly hope it aligns with my own. Please forgive me, Lord. Forgive me for confusing my own desires with Your true direction. Forgive me when anger, anxiety, pride, or fear have spoken louder than wisdom, humility, and faith. Forgive me for letting temporary circumstances cause me to doubt Your everlasting promises. 

Your Word gently reminds me that obedience matters more than sacrifice. This truth touches my heart, as I realize I might go through religious motions—praying, attending church, reading Scripture, singing songs of praise, and talking about faith—yet still resist Your calls for obedience in some parts of my life. I wonder, what benefit is there in my worship if my heart isn't truly willing to surrender? 

Lord, please help me see that obedience isn’t about punishment. It’s about love and protection. Your commands aren’t meant to take away my freedom but to keep me safe from myself. Sometimes, the “no” I hear from You is really an answer to a prayer I haven’t fully understood yet. The door You close might be guarding me from a room I wasn’t meant to go into. And sometimes, the person You take out of my life makes room for the wonderful people You have planned to walk with me. Thank You for always guiding me with love and care. 

Help me to trust Your wisdom even more than my own understanding. Remembering that obedience isn't about being perfect helps me to be gentle with myself. I know I will stumble and make mistakes; it's part of the journey. Falling doesn't have to be final—because the righteous can get up again. What truly matters is my willingness to repent, learn, and come back to You with an open heart. 

Lord, when I stumble and disobey, please don't let guilt make me feel like I'm beyond Your grace. Instead, gently guide my heart with conviction back to You. Help me clearly see the difference between condemnation that discourages and conviction that encourages growth. May every mistake be a gentle reminder that brings me closer to You, rather than something that pushes me away. 

Perhaps the real question is not simply, “Why am I disobedient?” Perhaps the deeper question is, “What am I afraid of losing if I completely obey You?” Am I afraid of losing control? Am I afraid of losing relationships? Am I afraid of losing comfort? Am I afraid that Your plan will require more from me than I want to give? Am I afraid that obedience will take me somewhere I do not want to go? Lord, expose those fears.

Grant me the courage to let go of what I cannot control. Help me find wisdom to hear Your voice clearly. Enable me to discern Your guidance from my own wishes. Strengthen my discipline when obedience is tough. Fill me with perseverance during the long journey. Humble me when I am mistaken and inspire me with courage when I am right. 

Let me stop comparing my obedience to others'. Their journey is uniquely theirs, and mine is uniquely mine. I may not know all the battles they've fought, the temptations they've overcome, or the private conversations they've had with You. Instead of wondering why I’m not where someone else is, I want to ask, “Lord, what are You asking of me today?” Maybe obedience starts with just one simple step—whether that's an apology, an act of forgiveness, resisting a temptation, speaking a truth, abandoning a wrong, showing kindness, praying sincerely, or trusting You even when I don't understand. Every small step counts on this beautiful journey of faith. 

Lord, I sincerely want not only to know Your Word but also to live it each day. I truly desire to follow Your guidance wholeheartedly, not just listen to it. My heart longs to consistently call You Lord with my words and genuinely surrender to You through my actions. Please teach me to obey and make my heart open and ready to hear Your voice. Help me stay humble and attentive. When You tell me to go, give me courage. When You ask me to wait, grant me patience. When You invite me to let go, give me strength to release what I’m holding onto. When You call me to forgive, fill me with grace. When You encourage me to love, inspire me to do so even when I don't feel like it. And when You ask me to trust You, help me to do so without needing to understand everything that lies ahead. 

Lord, I may not fully understand why obedience seems so easy for angels or why some people surrender themselves so openly to You. But what I do know is this: Your love for me has never wavered, even when I stumble in obedience. That truth touches my heart deeply. You have never abandoned me because I make mistakes. Instead, You keep calling me back with patience and grace. You give me chances to change, grow, repent, forgive, and start anew. Today, Lord, I choose to surrender—not just my words, but my will; not just my worship, but my actions; not just my Sundays, but every day of my life. I surrender all—what I understand and what I still seek to comprehend. 

Why, Lord, am I so disobedient? Maybe it's because I'm still learning how to surrender completely. But, Lord, please keep teaching me. Transform my resistance into obedience, my fear into faith, my pride into humility, and my uncertainty into trust. Let my life serve as a gentle reminder that obedience is possible when our hearts truly seek You. When I stumble, help me remember that Your grace is always there for me. Lord, guide me not only to ask, “What do You want me to do?” but also to have the courage to follow through. Amen.

The Middle Passage: Remembering the Africans Who Died and Asking Why Their History Is Too Often Minimized!

            My wife and I discussed this topic several days ago while talking about reparations. We brought up the subject of African deaths versus the Holocaust, and both remembered that it wasn’t taught to us during segregation and integration in schools or at home. 

History is not merely a record of what happened. It is also a record of what societies choose to remember, how they choose to remember it, and what they allow future generations to forget. Few subjects demonstrate this tension more powerfully than the history of the transatlantic slave trade and the Middle Passage. For centuries, millions of Africans were captured, separated from their families, marched to the coast, imprisoned, sold, forced aboard ships, and transported across the Atlantic under conditions that caused enormous suffering and death. Yet many people still do not understand the full magnitude of this human catastrophe. 

So, instead of just asking, "How many Africans died during the Middle Passage?" we should also wonder why this heartbreaking tragedy hasn’t been more prominently remembered in public memory, education, museums, memorials, and our national dialogues about human suffering. 

The answer requires careful thought. It's important to recognize that it's not entirely true to say that the Middle Passage has been completely hidden or that scholars have intentionally concealed its history. Many respected institutions, historians, museums, and databases have worked hard to document it thoroughly. Organizations like the Smithsonian, the National Endowment for the Humanities, universities, museums, and the Trans-Atlantic Slave Trade Database have all made remarkable efforts to deepen our understanding of that part of history. More accurately, the challenge is that this history has sometimes been underrepresented, fragmented, minimized, or taught without enough emphasis on its human suffering and global impact. Recognizing this distinction matters because suggesting concealment implies a deliberate conspiracy, while the reality is more complex, involving factors like racism, political interests, educational traditions, national narratives, economic memories, and the challenge of teaching a brutal chapter of history that spanned centuries and continents. 

It's estimated that approximately 12.5 million Africans were forcibly taken and shipped across the Atlantic during the transatlantic slave trade. Among them, about 10.7 million survived the difficult journey and arrived in the Americas and Caribbean. Sadly, around 1.8 million people lost their lives during this perilous voyage, reminding us of the tremendous human cost of this tragic chapter in history. ([NEH][1]) 

That number is an estimate, not an exact count. Historians aren't able to produce a death certificate for every person who died aboard a slave ship. Many records were incomplete, lost, falsified, or simply never made. Still, the surviving shipping records are detailed enough to give us a good sense of the trade's scale. It's important to remember that this trade was illegal. Charges of kidnapping and abduction wouldn’t have been used, as the enslaved individuals were often regarded as mere animals and treated accordingly. 

The Middle Passage was more than just a transportation route; it was a tragic part of a broader system of human exploitation. Picture 1.8 million individuals—mothers, fathers, daughters, sons, grandparents, children, farmers, artisans, soldiers, religious practitioners, merchants, community leaders, and everyday people just living their lives—before violence abruptly changed everything. They had names, languages, families, beliefs, memories, hopes, fears, and identities. Many didn't know where they were being taken, and many never saw land again. 

The statistics can sometimes grow so large that they feel emotionally distant. That's one of the challenges with historical memory. Saying "1.8 million died" is impactful, but our minds can find it hard to truly grasp such a huge number. That's why it's so important to connect these figures to personal stories, archaeological finds, ship records, African histories, shipwrecks, acts of resistance, and the voices of descendants, making the history more relatable and real. 

The Smithsonian's Slave Wrecks Project highlights that over 12 million Africans were enslaved during the transatlantic slave trade, with around 1,000 slave ships wrecking while crossing the Atlantic. Discovering and studying these wrecks helps us connect with a history that was once mostly known through written records. ([Smithsonian Institution][2]) And the approximately 1.8 million who died during the crossing were not the only victims. 

It's crucial to remember that the 1.8 million figure mainly counts those who tragically lost their lives during the ocean voyage of the Middle Passage. However, it doesn't include the many others who died beforehand—during capture, forced marches, while in coastal holding facilities, or after arriving in the Americas. Recognizing this helps us understand the full extent of the tragic toll of the Atlantic slave trade. 

Many individuals faced tragic fates during this brutal period. Some lost their lives resisting capture, while others succumbed to starvation, disease, exhaustion, violence, or injuries even before reaching the ships. Still, others passed away in the ports where they were held, awaiting transportation. After arriving, many suffered and died due to harsh working conditions, lack of nutrition, illness, punishment, and the breaking apart of families and communities. As a result, the true human cost of the transatlantic slave system was far greater than just those who died during the Middle Passage. 

            This distinction really matters because slavery wasn’t just a single event; it was a long-lasting system that persisted for centuries. According to the Oxford Research Encyclopedia, around 12.5 million enslaved Africans were forcibly taken from various coastal regions of Africa over more than three hundred years. This immense scale and long duration make it one of the biggest forced migrations in human history. Similarly, the National Endowment for the Humanities highlights the transatlantic slave trade as the largest forced migration the world has ever seen. 

Yet many Americans learn about slavery primarily as a chapter between the American Revolution and the Civil War. That presentation can unintentionally shrink an international, centuries-long catastrophe into a relatively brief episode in American history.

The Holocaust occupies a unique place in modern historical consciousness. The United States Holocaust Memorial Museum defines the Holocaust as the systematic, state-sponsored persecution and murder of approximately six million European Jews by Nazi Germany and its allies and collaborators between 1933 and 1945. ([United States Holocaust Memorial Museum][4]) 

             The Holocaust is widely documented and studied, and it is commemorated in museums all around the world. Each victim has been personally remembered through names, photographs, diaries, testimonies, artifacts, memorials, and scholarly works. Remembering the Holocaust is very important. The six million Jewish victims hold a special place in our memory. Equally, the Roma and Sinti, people with disabilities, political prisoners, Soviet prisoners of war, Poles, and other victims of Nazi persecution all deserve to be remembered with care and respect. 

It's important to remember that sometimes, focusing on one atrocity might be used as an excuse to overlook another. The goal isn't to diminish the significance of the Holocaust, but to broaden our understanding of human suffering in all its forms. While the Holocaust and the transatlantic slave trade are different historical events—happening in different contexts, under different systems, and during different times—they are both devastating and significant. The Holocaust was a concentrated genocide carried out by a modern state in the 1930s and 1940s, while the transatlantic slave trade spanned over three centuries, involving many European empires, African leaders, merchants, shipowners, plantation societies, and governments across the Atlantic. Remember, different circumstances don’t make these tragedies any less important or the lives affected any less valuable. 

Use the word "suppressed" carefully. We have a wealth of research on the Middle Passage. Major databases have mapped out thousands of voyages, and archaeologists are actively uncovering slave-ship wrecks. Historians keep exploring topics like African resistance, revolts on ships, mortality rates, disease, gender, economics, and the personal stories of enslaved individuals. So, it wouldn’t be fair to say that all historians have hidden the Middle Passage. I do think some historians may have been influenced by bias. Back then, their authority and background in history often went unquestioned. Still, there’s strong evidence that the topic of slavery has not always been taught thoroughly in American schools. That’s worth reflecting on. 

A Southern Poverty Law Center investigation revealed that many high school students struggle to answer basic questions about slavery. Teachers shared concerns about the quality of textbooks and the lack of enough support. The study also pointed out that many textbooks often miss out on fully telling the stories of enslaved people and tend to avoid directly discussing how slavery, racism, and white supremacy are connected. ([Southern Poverty Law Center][5]) 

Academic research has found similar patterns. A 2026 study of U.S. history textbooks used in Florida from 2005 to 2024 revealed that the language often focused on white participants, with less room given to Black voices and experiences. The researchers also noted that some word choices could hide responsibility for racial violence. ([ScienceDirect][6]) 

This is where the idea of historical suppression really comes into play—not necessarily as a big secret plot, but as a pattern in which uncomfortable history gets softened, shortened, depersonalized, or disconnected from its true impacts. Think about the difference between saying: "Africans were brought to America as slaves" and saying: “European and American commercial interests participated in a system that forcibly captured, purchased, transported, sold, and exploited millions of Africans, while governments and institutions created laws protecting the system." The first description doesn’t clearly tell us who was responsible. The second version highlights the system and the people and institutions that benefited from it. Words really do matter. Researchers have found that textbooks have historically downplayed slavery, and scholars have shown how earlier American textbooks sometimes avoided the topic altogether or portrayed slavery in a way that favored enslavers. ([Taylor & Francis Online][7])

Why Was Slavery So Difficult to Teach Honestly? One reason is that slavery played a significant role in shaping the development of the United States and the Western Atlantic economy. It's difficult to talk about American prosperity without acknowledging this connection. Cotton, tobacco, rice, sugar, shipping, banking, insurance, manufacturing, trade, land acquisitions, and political influence were all intertwined with slavery in many ways. Rather than being just an unfortunate social practice on the edges of society, it was a foundational economic and political institution. 

That makes the subject uncomfortable. It means that the story is not simply about individual people behaving badly. It involves governments, laws, businesses, churches, courts, financial institutions, families, and communities. It also means that slavery cannot be reduced to a story about the South alone. The Atlantic slave economy was international.

Another reason is the development of historical narratives after emancipation. Following the Civil War, powerful interpretations such as the Lost Cause mythology sought to portray slavery as secondary to other causes of the conflict and to romanticize the antebellum South. Historians have documented how such interpretations influenced textbooks and public memory. Harvard historian Donald Yacovone has described how twentieth-century textbooks sometimes portrayed slavery positively while marginalizing African American scholarship and testimony. ([Harvard Gazette][8]) This is not simply a question of old textbooks. Historical memory can persist long after the original political circumstances disappear. 

There's an important difference between remembering and comparing. It's understandable to argue that the Middle Passage deserves more recognition, but equating it directly with the Holocaust needs careful consideration. The Holocaust has a well-defined historical meaning, while the transatlantic slave trade was a different system altogether. Scholars should be cautious about merging different atrocities just because they caused immense suffering. However, comparisons can still help us understand these events better. 

Looking at different atrocities together helps societies see common patterns like dehumanization, racial ideology, economic exploitation, political power, propaganda, forced displacement, family separation, violence, resistance, and institutionalized inequality. The important lesson isn't about asking, "Which tragedy was worse?" but about understanding, "What made people believe others were expendable?" That’s the key question linking these histories. 

The Middle Passage truly deserves more acknowledgment because it symbolizes a tremendous human tragedy that reshaped the demographic, economic, political, and cultural landscapes across many continents. Africa felt the impact deeply, while Europe gained wealth through Atlantic trade. The Caribbean and the Americas underwent profound transformations, and the United States changed significantly. African American culture emerged from the incredible struggle of people who endured a system created to strip them of their freedom, family unity, political influence, and human dignity. This tragedy is not just a chapter in African American history; it’s a part of our shared world history. This shift is vital to how we approach historical education. The Middle Passage deserves more than just being seen as a prelude to American slavery; it should be recognized and studied as a significant international historical event. 

Students should explore where enslaved Africans originated from, how they were captured, who played a part in their transportation, and how the ships worked. It's important to understand what happened on those ships, why so many lives were lost, and how Africans resisted the brutality. They resisted in many ways—they fought back on ships, escaped, and held onto their languages, religions, music, food traditions, family bonds, and cultural practices. Out of these struggles, they built new communities and fought tirelessly for freedom. Their descendants also carried this fight forward through abolition, Reconstruction, civil rights movements, voting rights, and numerous cultural and political achievements. 

Perhaps the most heartbreaking injustice isn't that some tragedies are remembered more than others, but that humanity still struggles with the painful tendency to rank suffering based on race, nationality, geography, or political significance. We must remember the six million Jews who were murdered during the Holocaust—it’s vital they are never forgotten. Equally important are the approximately 1.8 million Africans who lost their lives during the Middle Passage, along with countless other innocent victims whose lives were torn apart by capture, forced migration, slavery, disease, violence, exploitation, and the long-lasting oppression that followed. True honor doesn't come from forgetting one tragedy or diminishing another. It's about recognizing the inherent value of every human life—the Holocaust and slavery are both solemn reminders of our shared humanity. 

The historical record clearly shows that the Middle Passage was a significant part of history. Around 12.5 million Africans were forced onto ships, with approximately 10.7 million surviving the journey across the Atlantic. That leaves about 1.8 million whose lives were lost. ([NEH][1]) Beneath these numbers are real people—individuals, not just cargo or statistics, but human beings. 

The real challenge, therefore, is not determining whether the Middle Passage was "as bad" as the Holocaust. History is not a competition in suffering. The challenge is ensuring that the memory of African suffering is given the seriousness, institutional attention, educational depth, and human dignity it deserves. Perhaps the question we should ask future generations is not, "Why wasn't the Middle Passage remembered like the Holocaust?" Perhaps we should ask: "Why did it take so long for the world to fully recognize the humanity of the people who suffered through it?" When history is taught honestly, memory becomes more than remembrance. It becomes responsibility. And if history teaches us anything, it is that whenever a society permits another human being to be reduced to property, race, statistics, stereotypes, or an inconvenience, the door to cruelty has already been opened. Our generation's responsibility is to keep that door closed. 

 Sources:

[1]: https://www.neh.gov/project/transatlantic-slave-trade-database “The Transatlantic Slave Trade Database”

[2]: https://global.si.edu/projects/slave-wrecks-project “Slave Wrecks Project”

[3]: https://academic.oup.com/edited-volume/61663/chapter-abstract/553397438 Oxford Research Encyclopedia of African History | Oxford Academic

[4]: https://www.ushmm.org/teach/fundamentals/holocaust-questions Frequently Asked Questions about the Holocaust for Educators - United States Holocaust Memorial Museum

[5]: https://www.splcenter.org/resources/reports/teaching-hard-history Teaching Hard History

[6]: https://www.sciencedirect.com/science/article/pii/S0898589826000690 “African slavery was becoming an essential part”: Examining language, agency, and power in the representation of enslavement in U.S. history textbooks - ScienceDirect

[7]: https://www.tandfonline.com/doi/full/10.1080/0046760X.2021.1998650 "Slavery, market censorship and US antebellum schoolbook publishing: History of Education: Vol 51 , No 2 - Get Access"

[8]: https://news.harvard.edu/gazette/story/2020/09/harvard-historian-examines-how-textbooks-taught-white-supremacy/"Harvard historian examines how textbooks taught white supremacy — Harvard Gazette"