The Scholars We Elevate
Acknowledging the architects of truth and innovation.
Imagine a person of status–someone renowned for their intellect, skill, and contributions to society. Is this person White? If so, that's not surprising. If not, you may already know the truth: history often overlooking scholars of African descent.
When we think of renowned scholars, household names like Hippocrates or, more recently, Elon Musk, often come to mind. But what about Carter G. Woodson, known as the 'Father of Black History,' founded the Association for the Study of Negro Life and History in 1915 and initiated Negro History Week in 1926, which evolved into Black History Month? Or Imhotep, an ancient Egyptian polymath, accredited with designing the Step Pyramid at Saqqra, the earliest colossal stone building in Egypt, and is considered one of the first architects and physicians in recorded history? These scholars, and the many others I will highlight, have served as luminous beacons for humanity, illuminating paths of knowledge and progress in ways that often defy imagination.
Historian Carter G. Woodson emphasized that for too long, the contributions of Black Americans were overlooked in favor of Eurocentric narratives, leading to a distorted understanding of history. These perspectives, often backed by greater access to resources, established their own "standard" truths while dismissing others as myths or marginalizing them entirely. Today, we challenge this tradition.
Despite significant contributions to scholarship and innovation, Black intellectuals have often been excluded from mainstream narratives. Rediscovered manuscripts, such as the Freedmen's Bureau archives, shed light on the resilience and ingenuity of Black Americans during Reconstruction. Moving forward, let us always ask: "Through whose lens is this story being told?"
As we dive deeper into the legacy of groundbreaking scholars, it's impossible to overlook the diverse brilliance of individuals like Vivien T. Thomas, Katherine Johnson, and Zora Neale Hurston. Each of them shattered barriers and contributed to humanity in profound ways–through innovation in medicine, precision in space exploration, and preservation of cultural heritage. Their stories reveal not only their genius but also the resilience required to thrive in the face of systemic exclusion. This article highlights six key figures whose legacies continue to shape the world.
Carter G. Woodson: The Architect of Black-American History
Carter G. Woodson didn't just document history; he preserved a lineage that was deliberately erased. Known as the "Father of Black History," he recognized early on that Black contribution were either ignored or misrepresented in mainstream narratives. His creation of Negro History Week in 1926–later expanded into Black History Month–was not just about celebration but about correcting historical amnesia.
Woodson's work through the Association for the Study of African American Life and History (ASALH) laid the foundation for what we now understand as African-American Historiography. He knew that controlling the narrative of the past was crucial for shaping the future. His book The Mis-Education of the Negro still rings true today, challenging the ways in which education can be used to limit Black potential rather than empower it. Just look at how major corporations have rolled back their DEI initiatives, how state political leaders are banning books about Black history, and how U.S. law enforcement treat peaceful Black protester, and more importantly, how the media portrays Black-American as a whole.
Woodson's contributions to society go beyond academia. His work ensured that Black people could see themselves reflected in history–not passive subjects, nor made out to be monsters, but as architects of civilization.
Zora Neale Hurston: The Anthropologist Who Saw More
While Woodson worked to preserve written history, Zora Neale Hurston sought to capture history through culture, dialect, and lived experiences. As an anthropologist, she documented Black folklore, traditions, and oral histories, recognizing that they held just as much value as written records.
However, Hurston's approach was complex. During the 1930s, much of Hurston's fieldwork was funded by Charlotte Osgood Mason, a wealthy white patron who had a keen interest in Black folk culture–though for reason that weren't entirely aligned with Hurston's own. Mason, like many other white patrons of the Harlem Renaissance, saw Black art and folklore as something to be curated, sometimes in ways that were more exploitive than celebratory. She placed restrictions on Hurston's work, controlling the way she documented and presented Black stories.
This led to tension. On one hand, Hurston had access to funding that allowed her to preserve Black folklore in ways few others could at the time. On the other, she was bound by the expectations of a white benefactor who dictated the direction of her research. This arrangement led to skepticism among some Black scholars and activists, who questioned whether her work was shaped by her own voice or the desires of those financing it.
Compounding this was Hurston's rejection of certain political movements of her time. She was notably critical of the NAACP and opposed federal anti-lynching legislation, believing that government intervention in racial issues would reinforce Black dependence on white institutions. This stance alienated her from many Black intellectuals and civil rights activists, making her a controversial figure even within the communities she sought to document.
Yet, despite these complexities, Hurston's work remains invaluable. Her anthropological studies, such as Mules and Men and Tell My Horse, captured oral histories, traditions, and spiritual practices that may have otherwise been lost. Her insistence on recording Black culture as she saw and experienced it–rather than through the lens of white academia–makes her work foundational to both literature and anthropology.
To dismiss Hurston entirely because of her funding and politics would be to erase the depth of her contributions. Instead, we should engage with her work critically–acknowledging the contradictions while still valuing the cultural preservation she championed. If anything, her story serves as a reminder that history is not always neat, but that does not make it any less essential.
James Beckwourth: Survival and Reinvention
Hurston's documentation of oral histories provides a fitting transition into the story of James Beckwourth, a Black frontiersman, explorer, and fur trader. His life was one of survival and reinvention, navigating the violent and shifting landscapes of 19th-century America.
Born into enslavement in 1798, Beckwourth was freed by his white father and went on to carve a place for himself in the Wild West. He became an adopted member of the Crow Nation, serving as a war chief, and later, his knowledge of the land led to the creation of the Beckwourth Pass, a crucial trail through the Sierra Nevada mountains. His story is more than one of exploration–it's about the complexities of identity and loyalty in a time of expansion and displacement.
When Beckwourth was adopted into the Crow Nation, where he became a respected war chief and integrated into their way of life. This was no small feat–being fully accepted into an indigenous community required a deep understanding of their customs, values, and struggles. The Crow Nation, like many Indigenous nations, were dealing with increasing pressure from U.S. expansion, and Beckwourth's presence among them positioned him at a unique crossroads.
While he lived as a Crow, Beckwourth was also propositioned by white settlers and the U.S. government, who saw him as a valuable guide in their push westward. His intimate knowledge of the land and Indigenous cultures made him an asset–one that settlers sought to use for their own advantage.
This duality–being fully immersed in Crow culture while also engaging with settlers–raises important questions. Was he a mediator, using his position to ensure his own survival and possibly that of his adopted people? Or was he being used as a tool for expansion that would ultimately lead to the displacement of Indigenous nations? The reality is likely somewhere in between.
Beckwourth's story reminds us that history is often shaped by those who had to navigate multiple worlds, making choices in circumstances where survival was not guaranteed. Rather than framing him as a simple explorer or a figure of controversy, we should recognize the depth of his experience–one that reflects the complicated and often painful realities of Black and Indigenous people during America's westward expansion.
Vivien Thomas: The Mind Behind Modern Heart Surgery
From surviving the frontier to revolutionizing medicine, Vivien Thomas was a pioneer whose contributions were hidden in plain sight. Despite having no formal medical degree, his innovations in heart surgery saved countless lives.
Working alongside Dr. Alfred Blalock at Johns Hopkins, Thomas developed the surgical techniques used to treat "blue baby syndrome"–a condition that was once fatal for infants. Yet, for years, his contributions were downplayed. He trained white surgeons who went on to receive the credit, while he remained behind the scenes.
Today his work is recognized as the foundation of modern heart surgery, and his legacy reminds us that expertise doesn't always come with official titles.
Imhotep: The True Father of Medicine
Long before modern medicine, there was Imhotep–a polymath of ancient Kemet (Egypt) who was a physician, architect, and high priest. He is credited as the first recorded doctor in history, but his contributions extend far beyond medicine.
His medical texts, later known as the Edwin Smith Papyrus, contain some of the earliest know surgical procedures, detailing wound care, bone setting, and even brain surgery. Yet, his legacy was repackaged under a European name, erasing the direct lineage of African medical knowledge. We will only acknowledge is as Imhotep's Papyrus.
His holistic approach to medicine, blending science with spirituality, was centuries ahead of its time. The fact that his name was eventually deified in Kemet speaks to the impact he had–not just on medicine but on civilization itself.
Katherine Johnson: The Mathematician Who Sent Us to Space
Imhotep laid the foundation for medical science, and Katherine Johnson took calculations to cosmic heights. As a NASA mathematician, her trajectory analysis was crucial to John Glenn's 1962 orbital mission.
At a time when both Black people and women were excluded from STEM fields, Johnson's mind could not be ignored. She worked on calculations that determined reentry paths for astronauts, ensuring their safe return to Earth. Her work shattered the myth that Black women were not suited for technical fields.
Even with her undeniable brilliance, Johnson's story remained in the shadows for decades. It wasn't until Hidden Figures brought her story to the mainstream that the world recognized the gravity of her contributions.
Reclaiming Our Scholars, Reclaiming Our Legacy
Each of these figures–Carter G. Woodson, Zora Neale-Hurston, James Beckwourth, Vivien Thomas, Imhotep, and Katherine Johnson–faced barriers, yet they forged paths that changed the course of history. some had their work erased or rewritten, while others were forced to navigate oppressive systems just to have their voices heard.
By elevating their legacies, we do more than honor them–we reclaim our rightful place in history and remind future generations that Black excellence has never been a rarity; it has always been the foundation.
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