Reflecting on celebrations of Black history during the month of February always makes me smile. Learning about and reflecting on African American history in my family was never limited to the month of February. In fact, much of what I learned about Black history growing up came from stories and conversations with my parents, grandparents, aunts and uncles shared all year long. But the monthlong celebration of achievements, accomplishments and hardships of African Americans we now know as Black History Month was and continues to be very meaningful and important to me.

Along with that sense of pride, I felt a deep sense of responsibility. I understood the trials and hardships of African Americans who had come before me—not just those I read about but in my own family. My great-grandmother, who lived with my grandparents in her later years and who I spent time with every day, was the child of parents who were enslaved. My grandparents lived much of their lives in a society that did not see them or treat them as equal to their white counterparts. My parents were born in the segregated south and raised in a society that placed explicit restrictions on what they could do, where they could go, what they could be. But even with those challenges and hardships, they prayed, they endured, they fought, and God blessed and kept them. Understanding that, from an early age, I felt like I had no excuses. With all they had done and achieved, with those kinds of challenges, I made up my mind early on that I would do everything I could to make them proud and to show myself worthy of the sacrifices of those who had gone before me.

Now in my early forties, my feelings during Black History Month are similar. I am so proud of the faith, perseverance, accomplishments and contributions of African Americans. I am proud to be part of that lineage and that story. I continue to have a tremendous sense of responsibility. I would want African Americans who lived in times before me to be proud. I want to be worthy of all they sacrificed and did so that future generations of African Americans like me would have a profoundly different American experience. But now, additionally, I feel the added responsibility of doing everything I can to make sure younger African Americans understand where they come from and never forget the blood, sweat and tears of so many who came before them. And I feel the responsibility of doing everything I can to continue the work of perfecting our union, daily working for the America that Dr. King, Frederick Douglass, Harriet Tubman and Mary McLeod Bethune dreamed of.