Celebrating Black History Month in a predominantly white high school means two things for me.

On one hand, Black History Month means constantly being told Happy Black History Month by my white peers, while some stifle back laughter, as if February is my birth month. Repeatedly being asked what I am doing for Black History Month like the entire month is some sacred holiday.

Constantly being asked to write something on Black History Month because I happen to be one of four black students on the newspaper staff. Having all the other students stare at me whenever a teacher brings up Black History Month since I’m usually the only black student in any given class.

However, having to tiptoe around issues that go beyond the surface require more thought than “Happy Black History Month.” Not saying anything when people bring up #BlackLivesMatter because anything I say will be automatically disregarded since I “only think that way because I’m black.” Being asked to change my views and opinions so that the other people don’t feel as awkward or threatened.

But on the other hand, Black History Month means recognizing what African-Americans did within American history, which is so often overlooked in history classes and textbooks. It is about the different inventions and innovations that the African-American community has contributed. It is the different forms of music and media that African-Americans worked to pave the road for, including but not limited to rock, rap, jazz, blues, poetry and literature.

These reasons and so many more are why we need Black History Month. Because black history is so quickly forgotten or swept under the rug in our school’s history curriculum. It is a time of reflecting on the past, and what our parents and grandparents had to endure and sacrifice just for us to be able to enjoy the freedoms we so often take for granted.

And for this reason, I’m grateful to celebrate Black History Month every February.