But in 1926, Carter G. Woodson and the Association for the Study of African American Life and History formally initiated this movement by establishing Negro History Week. The observance was intentionally placed in February to coincide with the birthdays of President Abraham Lincoln (February 12) and Abolitionist Frederick Douglass (February 14)—two figures whose legacies profoundly shaped Black American history.

Although this recognition came less than a century after the Emancipation Proclamation was passed, legally freeing enslaved people, those decades in between were anything but quiet. They were marked by Reconstruction and its collapse, the rise of Jim Crow laws, racial terror through lynching and segregation, and systems designed to limit Black freedom under the guise of law.

At the same time, Black Americans were building schools, founding churches and institutions, migrating in search of safety and opportunity, and shaping culture through art, music, and political thought. By the time Black history was formally recognized in 1926, it wasn’t the beginning of the story—it was an acknowledgment of survival, resistance, and progress that had already been unfolding for generations.

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And, still…

History did not stop in 1926—and neither did Black achievement. In the decades that followed, Black Americans organized the modern Civil Rights Movement, dismantling legalized segregation through landmark legislation like the Civil Rights Act and Voting Rights Act.

Black artists, writers, and musicians reshaped global culture through movements like the Harlem Renaissance, Motown, hip-hop, and contemporary media. Black scholars built universities and academic disciplines, Black athletes broke color barriers and redefined excellence, and Black activists forced the nation to confront its contradictions. These milestones were not granted—they were fought for, often at great personal risk.

And within our own lifetime, that progress continued to reach heights once considered impossible. In 2009, the United States inaugurated its first Black president, Barack Obama, a moment that reflected generations of struggle, strategy, and perseverance.

Today, Black Americans lead major corporations, shape global conversations online, dominate creative industries, and mobilize movements with tools previous generations never had access to—technology, education, and expanded platforms. Many before us were denied these resources, yet they still managed to build lasting change from 1926 to 2026.

Honoring Black history, then, is not only about remembering how far we’ve come—it’s about recognizing what’s now possible, and understanding our responsibility to keep moving forward.

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There is a moment every year, usually sometime between late December and early January, when people start trying to reinvent themselves. Timelines fill up with New Year, New Me posts and long lists of resolutions. It becomes a season of clean slates and collective amnesia, as if the last twelve months can be tossed out completely.

But half the time it ends up being New Year, same person. So many of the big resolutions people make never last. A lot of that happens because we try too hard to become someone completely different, when the version of us that exists is already worthy of being carried into whatever comes next.

Sometimes the soft and subtle changes matter the most. They are the ones that last. Choosing one resolution instead of ten. Shifting one habit at a time. Moving slowly and intentionally.

These choices feel more meaningful and more permanent because they are not about erasing yourself. They are about gently refining who you already are.

A soft rebrand can look like not reaching for your phone first thing in the morning, maybe going for a walk once a week, or simply taking a moment to pause before you respond to someone. It can be learning to say no, or allowing yourself to stop trying to please everyone else and start choosing yourself.

We live in a culture that tells us real change has to be dramatic. That it comes with sudden breakthroughs and big declarations. But the truth is that most becoming happens in the quiet. In the tiny decisions you make when no one is watching. In the grace you give yourself after a mistake. In the slow, steady work of evolving into someone you can be proud of.

And believe me, I get it. I’ve been that person who wanted to wake up on January 1st as a completely new version of myself because something (or everything) in the previous year didn’t go how I hoped. I know what it feels like to set big goals with real excitement, and I also know what it feels like to watch them slip away.

I have made all kinds of commitments. I have told myself I would go to the gym every day, eat clean, stress less, say no, say yes, breathe deeper, drink more water, and suddenly become this perfectly balanced person. And I meant every word when I said it. I do go to the gym. I do try to look at things with a more positive outlook. But life happens. Something throws me off, and before I know it, I’m repeating the same habits I was trying to escape. Not because I’m careless, but because trying to change everything at once is exhausting.

2026 can be different. It can be a year where you move at your own pace, make choices that matter, and let the small, unseen moments shape who you are. Step into it fully, step into it thoughtfully, and let the year unfold in a way that belongs to you.

-Written by Raina Smith

Managing Editor, Beyond the Myc