On a warm, sunny afternoon in the West End, Mrs. Brown, a wise woman in her early eighties, took her usual stroll down the street with the help of her walker. Her body may have slowed down, but her mind was as sharp as ever. The breeze gently rustled the leaves, and the sounds of children playing in the distance filled the air. Walking beside her was Miquail, her young neighbor and one of her favorite people in the community. Miquail has known Mrs. Brown as his family’s neighbor for as long as he can remember as a young boy.

Miquail, a high schooler with bright potential but often lost in thought, had swung by to check on Mrs. Brown. He wasn’t sure why, but these little chats with her always left him feeling like he learned something new about life.

“You staying outta trouble, young man?” Mrs. Brown asked, giving him a side glance with a teasing smile.

Miquail shrugged and gave a sheepish chuckle. “Tryin’ to, Mrs. Brown. But, honestly, school ain't makin' no sense to me no more.”

Mrs. Brown stopped walking and turned to face him. “What do you mean, ‘no sense’?”

He sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. “I don’t know. I just don’t feel like I’m learnin’ anything that will make my life or my family’s life better, y’know? I mean, I go, but it’s like the stuff they teachin' don’t connect with me. History especially... It’s weird though, ‘cause I feel like there’s somethin’ there that I’d be interested in, but... I can’t even say what it is, ‘cause it ain’t really sinking in.”

Mrs. Brown gave him a long, thoughtful look. “Mm-hmm. And that’s ‘cause they ain’t teachin' you your history. Not the kind that would connect with you, anyway.”

Miquail frowned, confused. “What you mean, my history?”

Mrs. Brown shifted her weight slightly, leaning on her walker as she prepared to share something important. “Do you know about 1619?”

Miquail shook his head. “Nah. What’s that?”

Mrs. Brown let out a small, sad chuckle. “That right there is a shame. 1619 is when the first enslaved Africans were brought to what they now call America. It’s when folks like us stepped off those slave ships and were forced to build this country from the ground up. And that, my dear, is when America’s story really begins—for us, at least.”

Miquail’s eyes widened, and he stood there, speechless for a moment. “Wait... but... ain’t America’s start supposed to be 1776? That’s when they teach us the country got its independence.”

Mrs. Brown shook her head slowly. “1776 is when they wrote the Declaration of Independence, talking about liberty and freedom. But tell me this—freedom for who? ‘Cause while they were writing those fancy words to be free of England, they still owned slaves, treating’ us as property. We wasn’t part of that freedom. For us, 1619 marks the start, when we were dragged here against our will and started building this place with other enslaved and indigenous people, brick by brick.”

Miquail looked taken aback, completely blindsided by this revelation. “Mrs. Brown... they don’t teach us none of this in school. I never heard nothin’ about 1619.”

“That’s exactly the problem,” Mrs. Brown said, her voice soft but firm. “They don’t want you to know this, Miquail. They teach you 1776 ‘cause that’s their version of history—what’s neat and tidy for them. But 1619? That’s our story. And if you understood it, really knew it, you’d realize just how much power you hold. And, I’m sharing this with you because it’s our responsibility as a community to share our full history. Don’t wait for the school system to do it. It’s not in their best interest”

Miquail’s face showed his shock. “Why they don’t want us to know? Why wouldn’t they teach us our own history? Isn’t the history of African Amercans still American history?”

Mrs. Brown sighed, resting for a moment. “Yes it is. Baby, if you knew where you came from, what we've been through, and how we are still here... they’d be afraid of what you’d do with that knowledge. See, this system wasn’t made for us to succeed. It’s designed to keep you uninformed and under their control, so they can keep on building' wealth and power on our backs.”

Miquail was silent for a moment, digesting everything Mrs. Brown had just said. He had always felt like something was missing in school, but he couldn’t quite put his finger on it. Now, things were starting to click.

“So... you’re sayin’ they don’t want us to know the truth ‘cause it would give us power?”

Mrs. Brown nodded. “Exactly. Look at it like this: If they wanted you to have power, they’d have made sure you knew your full history. They’d have made sure you knew how strong your people are, how we’ve survived every obstacle thrown at us since 1619. But instead, they water it down, keep you focused on things that don’t really serve you. You ever wonder why there was a time when it was illegal for our ancestors to learn how to read and write?”

Miquail raised his eyebrows, taken aback. “Illegal? I mean... I guess I heard somethin’ about that, but... why?”

“Because they knew,” Mrs. Brown said, leaning in slightly, “that education is power. Knowledge is the key to freedom. Back in those days, if you knew how to read and write, you could start thinking’ for yourself. You could start questioning the system, and start finding ways to escape it. That’s why they didn’t want slaves learning’. And that’s why, even today, the school system ain’t set up to give you the knowledge you really need to thrive. It’s just set up to give you the basics—enough to survive, but not enough to question the way things are.”

Miquail’s mind was racing. “So you think school’s just a way to keep us in line?”

Mrs. Brown smiled gently. “I’m sayin’ school, as it is right now, is designed to teach you what they want you to know, not necessarily what you need to know. But that doesn't mean you can’t use it to your advantage. Every time you step into that school, I want you to think about what you can take from it to help build your future. It’s about more than just passing tests. It’s about finding the information that’ll help you get where you want to go in life.”

Miquail stared at her, feeling a new sense of curiosity and purpose bubbling up inside him. “So what should I do, Mrs. Brown? I mean, I don’t really know where to start.”

Mrs. Brown chuckled softly. “First off, get yourself to that library down the street. It’s free, and it’s full of the knowledge they won’t hand you in class. Start with some books on our history, the real history. Find out about 1619, about everything that’s been left out of your textbooks. Once you start learning on your own, you’ll see the gaps in what they teach you. And you’ll start to see how powerful you really are.”

Miquail nodded slowly, determination settling in. “Yeah... yeah, I think I’m gonna do that.”

Mrs. Brown smiled warmly, her eyes twinkling with pride. “That’s what I like to hear. Don’t ever let them take away your desire to learn, Miquail. Knowledge is your weapon, and once you’ve got it, there ain’t nothin’ they can do to stop you.”

As they continued their slow stroll down the street, Miquail felt like he was seeing the world through new eyes. History had never seemed relevant to him before, but now he was starting to understand just how much it mattered—how much he mattered. Mrs. Brown had given him more than just a history lesson; she had given him a sense of purpose, a reason to dig deeper, to find the truth that had been kept from him for so long.

By the time they made it back to Mrs. Brown’s porch, Miquail felt like he was standing a little taller. He helped her sit down on her porch swing, and she gave him a knowing smile.

“Don’t forget,” she said, “you’ve got a whole community behind you. We may be small, but we’re strong. And with that education, with that knowledge, you can do anything you set your mind to.”

Miquail nodded. “Thank you, Mrs. Brown. I’m gonna make sure I learn all I can. Not just what they teach in school, but what they don’t.”

Mrs. Brown patted his hand gently. “That’s all I ask, young man. That’s all I ask.”

As Miquail walked away, he felt a newfound sense of responsibility. He was going to learn everything he could—about his history, his community, and how to shape his future. He was going to make sure that the next time he walked into school, he wasn’t just a student; he was someone on a mission to learn the truth and make his mark on the world.

And Mrs. Brown, watching from her porch, knew that her words had planted a seed. One day, that seed would grow into something powerful—a young man who understood the full weight of his history and the limitless potential of his future.

COMMUNITY CHRONICLES is how we start important conversations our culture needs to have. We make hard truths accessible so we can reach one and teach MANY. Share this short story with your family and friends.