As a fan and lover of black cinema, I often stop to think about how each piece of art from that category impacted my life in some way. From the themes, plots, characters, language, clothing, and many faces and names that have come my way.  I am forever grateful for the many characters that I’ve met and which I've modeled my life and personality after.  

Growing up as an only child in the 90s, TV became my favorite outlet, and the films and characters became secret best friends of mine, best friends I could turn to at all hours of the day, who helped raised me while teaching me valuable lessons about life, family, relationships, sex, being a woman, and being black! I often ask myself where I would be without best friends like Justice and Lucky, Peaches and Shame, Natalie, Bobby and Waymon, Marcus and Angela, Nina and Darius, Stella, Monica, and her basketball, Bernadette, Robin, Gloria, and Savannah?! 

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Natalie from Strictly Business

As far back as I can remember the Movie ‘’Strictly Business’’ and its infectious soundtrack were a staple in my household. Originally hitting theatres in 1991 and starring Tommy Davidson, Joseph C Phillips, and Halle Berry. Halle stars as ‘’Natalie’’, the young, hip, club and party promoter who steals the heart of strait-laced Waymon. There was something about Natalie that had a 6-year-old me in a trance. I was blown away by her beauty and her confidence, Natalie was the it girl who ran the NYC party scene and that’s what I wanted to be—that’s what I wanted to do!  This character followed me to adulthood even when I navigated the NYC party scene while becoming a party promoter myself. Working in an industry dominated by men, Natalie was always with me and stays with me until this day. I loved how Waymon was infatuated with Natalie, I loved the way he looked at her and he was determined to get do anything to be the perfect man for her. I wanted that, every piece of that!

Justice from Poetic Justice

From Brooklyn to South Central LA the many black movies and black characters became my safe zone and safety net for me. Though I was a little black girl from Brooklyn NY, there was something about Justice that connected me to her.  Directed by the great John Singleton ‘’Poetic Justice’’ became a staple in 1993 for the black community in the Los Angeles area. Not only gifting the folks of LA with this amazing project, but Singleton was also able to open up and share Justice with many of us that were not from the west coast. 

I loved everything about her! From how she would channel her emotions by penning them down, to standing firm in what she wanted and inspiring me and the other many little black girls by wearing the stylish and unforgettable box braids. Singleton gave people a look at the current state of Los Angeles in the 1990s and it was honest, brutal, ugly but it was the truth.

Marcus, Angela, and Jacqueline from Boomerang

Marcus, Angela, and Jacqueline may sound like unfamiliar names but those of us part of the culture know exactly whose name belongs to who! Even though ‘’Boomerang’’ was originally released in 1992, 30 years later it’s ranked and on the top 5 classic black movies list. Starring Eddie Murphy, Halle Berry, Robin Givens, and a slew of legendary black actors and comics. This movie was phenomenal. After first watching the movie, I remember wanting to not only be like Jacqueline but wanting to be Angela and Marcus! All three of them were captivating, strong, black, beautiful, and powerful and I wanted all of that. From the way, Jacqueline would cut men down with her words, from how big Angela’s heart was, and to how smooth Marcus was with the ladies and his words. Also, can we talk about Marcus’ apartment! I wanted it all! I remember watching Boomerang over and over just so I could remember and embody all three of the sexiest black characters I have ever seen. 

Nina and Darius from Love Jones

‘’Say, baby... can I be Your slave? I've got to admit girl you're the sh*t girl... and I'm digging you’’- the seductive words that 11-year-old me waited for and when I say I waited…. I am still waiting 25 years later!

Released in 1997 and starting Nia Long and Larenz Tate, ‘’Love Jones’’ is still the go-to love guide for us all when it comes to dating and relationships. The relationship between Nina and Darius was intriguing, beautiful but also very complicated. Growing up I got most of my love stories from movies, books, and television, and seeing a modern couple who looked like me gave me hope when it came to finding love. Love Jones is the movie I grab when I am in love, when I have a crush, and even when I’m heartbroken. I am still inspired by the love story and heartbreak from this movie, it’s something I will never forget.

Andre and Sidney from Brown Sugar

‘’When was the first time you fell in love with hip hop?’’ The question heard around the world and honestly the question I now use for ice breakers and awkward first dates.  ‘’Brown Sugar ‘’ was released in 2002 and it became the love letter to Hip Hop that everyone needed. We all wanted it but no one was brave enough to admit it. 

Andre and Sidney embodied friendship goals that everyone envied. As a lover of hip hop, I saw myself in Sidney: I love the music, I was living in a brownstone in NYC and becoming a well-known journalist in the music industry.  When ‘’Love Jones’’ originally came out I was too young to understand how complex the relationships were but when ‘’Brown Sugar’’ came out and I was in Highschool I felt like I had seen myself and the relationship I strive for on-screen.

You couldn’t tell me I was not going to be a hip-hop journalist, living in a brownstone in NYC and marrying my best friend.

Troy Carmichael from Crooklyn

Troy Carmichael had one of the best summers as a child in Brooklyn, NY in 1973 and I was envious. ‘’Crooklyn’’ originally came out in 1994 and came from the creative legend himself, our Brooklyn four father, Spike Lee.  Though ‘’Crooklyn’’ was set in the 70s, a little black girl from Brooklyn in the 90s related to the movie, it was like I was looking in a mirror: I was Troy and Troy was me. New York Summers is one of the best summers, it’s something that you cannot explain to anyone but yet the memories never leave your soul. It’s filled with laughter, black joy, black pain, first loves, first kisses, hot summer breezes, adventures that you will never forget. I always felt that but seeing it on screen in movies like ‘’Do the Right Thing’’ and ‘’Crooklyn’’ made me forever grateful to Spike Lee! 

Savannah, Robin, Bernadine and Gloria from Waiting to Exhale

Savannah, Robin, Bernadine, and Gloria! If you have no idea who these four women are let me introduce you. Debuting in late 1995, ‘’Waiting to Exhale’’ became the go-to movie for not only black women but all women. If you were a child in the 90s you remember your mother, aunties, and grandmothers feeling every emotion and seeing themselves in each of these women on screen. As our elders connected to the movie, we peeked around the corner to catch a glimpse of Savannah falling in love with herself and getting rid of the men who didn’t matter. We smiled from ear to ear watching Gloria find someone for the first time that genuinely liked her for her. We cried watching Robin navigate and date and find the guy that was just right for her. And we cheered on and memorized every heartbreaking word Bernie screamed as she was releasing hurt from her divorce. As children, we had no idea the range of emotions these four women were going through but as we got older we related to every tear, scream, and heartbreak. 

I am grateful for the four teachers that I still go to whenever I need a pick me up or whenever I get heartbroken. 

Before typing this I always knew the movies I liked and the ones that meant something but now I realize these characters meant more to me than I would ever know. They shaped me into the woman I am today, they helped me navigate adulthood, helped with relationships, sex, friendships, and family and for that, I will always pay homage. 

Thank you to the black creators who wrote every word on those scripts, who came up with the ideas of every character. Without you and your genius, I do not know who I would be today. Thank you! 

For many of us 1980 and ‘90s babies, The Fresh Prince of Bel-Air was a fixture in our homes. Throughout its six-year run, the charming kid from West Philadelphia and the affluent LA family he entered into brought us humor and your occasional moment of moral high ground. It was the type of show that everyone in a room—no matter who you are or where you’re from—could enjoy watching.  

Perhaps that’s why I shuddered when I heard the news of a reboot. Bel-Air, inspired by the 2019 short film by Morgan Cooper, promised a grittier, dramatic remake of the classic sitcom. I dared to ask why but then remembered—what’s old always becomes new again. 

We need to look no further for proof than the smorgasbord of nostalgia we’ve been served over the past two years. Everything from Punky Brewster and Save by the Bell (again) to Gossip Girl and Sex and the City have been added to the spread, waiting for O.G. viewers and Gen Zers alike to take a bite. However, unlike so many of its sitcom contemporaries, The Fresh Prince of Bel-Air actually aged well. With the exception of some ‘90s fatphobia, I still find myself tearing up during its more dramatic moments and cracking up alongside its laugh tracks. 

The humor of the original was exactly why I was nervous as I sat down to watch Bel-Air. I questioned whether Black people should have to stomach another “gritty” show, particularly after a recent uptick in trauma content with shows like Them and Two Distant Strangers. Across social media, Black people have been voicing their displeasure of black trauma porn, or content that portrays racism and other forms of suffering for entertainment purposes.

After the 2020 racial reckoning, the public trials of the murderers of George Floyd and Ahmaud Arbery, the January 6 Capitol attack and Kyle Rittenhouse walking free, many folks have turned to television to escape the weight of oppression. With Insecure off the air, I personally have been hungry for lighter fare or content that doesn’t take multiple episodes of The Office or A Different World to wash down.

Thankfully, Bel-Air isn’t trauma porn. It isn’t the twin of its predecessor. It’s something entirely different.

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Today, the reboot premiered on Peacock with its first three episodes, welcoming fans into a familiar world with the same names and locations, yet a remixed formula.

For starters, we meet "Will Smith" in the real-life West Philadelphia that had previously received much ado only through the character’s mention of it in that famous opening song. We see exactly where Will is “shootin' some b-ball outside of the school” and watch Will with his beloved Philly cheesesteak. We even hear a soundtrack featuring Philadelphia-bred artists, including J Cole, Meek Mill, and Beanie Sigel. The importance of Philly is so heavily emphasized in the first episodes that we understand that it’ll likely be a major source of continued real-world conflict and connection throughout the show.

And then there are the characters.

For Black people, the original Fresh Prince of Bel-Air was special not only because it had an entirely Black cast, but because it represented us in our fullness. We could be wealthy and remember our roots. We could be cool and smart. We could be funny and deep.

However, there are also limits when creating a half-hour comedy. And in the ‘90s, creating shows was much more formulaic than it is today. So, we got a Hillary that was mostly shallow. A Carlton that was mostly corny. A Phillip Banks that was mostly commanding. Much of the comedy took place when these archetypes were put into interesting, weird or uncomfortable situations with one another. But we loved it because it gave us moments such as Carlton dragging himself across the floor, Will and Carlton dancing to “Apache,” and Uncle Phil throwing out Jazzy Jeff for the umpteenth time.

The new hour drama allows for the show to add layers to the characters we know and love. This is most obvious with the new Hillary, played by the captivating Coco Jones. Hillary 2.0 is not just an entitled heiress to her daddy’s platinum card. No, she is a savvy business woman-in-the-making who has a keen awareness of who she is and a unique understanding for brand building. And, oh yeah, she can throw down in the kitchen, paying her rent in the form of serving as the house chef.

Alongside Hillary 2.0, Bel-Air also gives us a troubled Carlton; a smooth, house manager—not butler—Geoffrey; and a still sassy and lovable but potentially unsatisfied Aunt Viv. Will 2.0 remains cool and smart, but trades in some of the original character’s playfulness for more of the grit that the original show promised. Watching the episodes, I admittedly did, at times, long for a goofier Will and punchier Geoffrey, but most of the new characters are ushered in with a complexity that feels relevant and necessary for the world they’re living in.

And the world we’re living in today is much different than 30 years ago when The Fresh Prince of Bel-Air premiered—not in the racist and discriminatory acts we see or experience, but in the conversations and content that viewers expect. So, as I watched and wondered whether Black people are still entitled to the lightness that we received from the original series, I realized the answer isn’t so simple.

The history of Black people in America is not often light, and where many of us find ourselves is tied to this history. Excellence and struggle alike are trauma responses.

Therefore, it makes sense to use these nostalgic times to explore what sits beside the excellence of the Banks family, to show what comes with being "the only," "the first" or "the newbie" navigating their world. And that’s what Bel-Air does.

The Fresh Prince reboot may not be the answer to the collective malaise we’ve felt over the past couple of years, but Bel-Air seems to be thoughtful and rich content to watch as you navigate it. And the way I see it, I can always turn back to its predecessor for shenanigans and comedy, and use this new show to wash down a hard day with a sweet bit of mess and drama.

 In the film Passing on Netflix, two mixed-race women in 1920s America struggle to find their place when society can’t put them in the right box. It's not an uncommon pain—talk to any mixed-race person and odds are they’ll be able to tell you at least a dozen horror stories about their identity being misunderstood, fetishized, or stereotyped.

In the Netflix film, the women, Irene (played by Tessa Thompson) and Clare (Ruth Negga), are two sides of the same coin. Both light-skinned, Irene “passes” as white accidentally, whereas Clare “passes” on purpose to gain social status. What follows is an incredibly complex story about what it means to be somebody when the world sees you as something else. 

When my dad would pick me up from third grade, kids would always ask if I’m adopted. There’s no way that Black man could be my dad, not when I’m so pale. After my parents split up and I went to live with my white mother and her parents in the suburbs, kids were ready to call me a liar when I would talk about being mixed. Though I never chose to pass—ask any mixed person and they'll show you that genetics are messy and don’t give you much of a choice.

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In Passing, Negga's Clare decides to pass permanently after being sent to live with her white aunts as a child. And Clare isn’t stupid: she knows that in 1920s Chicago, the experiences of a white woman and a Black woman are polar opposites. She learns the ins and outs of white society, speaking in a voice identical to a petite debutante. After marrying a white man named John (Alexander Skarsgård) at age 18, she’s almost able to wipe her hands of this whole race thing. Almost.

Clare spends 12 years alone. Not literally—she has a huge mansion, a rich husband, and is partying as often a white woman would in the 1920s, but emotionally, she’s isolated. She has this horrible secret: she’s traded her family, her culture, her friends, her life—just to play a game of racist dress-up. 

And when she’s reunited with Irene, her childhood friend in Harlem, Clare is immediately ready to go back to the community she’s spent the last dozen years stepping on as she climbed the social ladder. But the thing is, Irene passes, too. Though she’s married to a Black man and has two dark-skinned children, she still appreciates the convenience of being able to put on a demure outfit and have a luxurious lunch in the white part of town.

Choosing to pass—choosing to live out your life as another race—is different than someone who just to happens to pass. The same way former NAACP leader Rachel Dolezal was shocked back in 2015 when an international stage exposed her for pretending to be Black for a paycheck, Clare explicitly lives as a different race and doesn’t anticipate any consequences.

Even if Passing had a happy ending, is it moral to give up your entire life for the assumption of security? If you suspect someone is lying about their race, is it okay to ask them to prove it? Is it fair to use your skin tone to advance yourself, just because you won the genetic lottery? Can anyone pass? Sure, if you’ve got less morals than melanin, you can pass just fine.

For me, the act of passing isn't so much an act, like it is for Clare and Irene. My dad is Black and my mom is white. I’m mixed but I’m not stupid: passing as white in a society that systemically discriminates against melanated skin gives me privilege, whether I like it or not. It would be disingenuous for me to pretend I had the same experience as Black girls growing up. My white mother never forced me to relax my hair, but I also never had my hair in cornrows, either. I’ve never had the police called on me for walking down the street.

My race has come into question everywhere I’ve worked. Countless customers would tell me I had a certain “exotic” look, demanding to know my family’s history before I could tell them my name. Or they'd mistake me for Jewish, automatically assuming I knew which items on the menu were kosher and if I could please recommend the best place to get a good brisket sandwich.

The thing about having white-passing privilege is that racist people start to feel a little too comfortable around you. They’ll see someone whose skin tone is similar to theirs, with a voice that doesn’t have an accent, and think you’re one of them. I’ve had an unfortunate number of colleagues tell me I’m so lucky that my skin is “nice and light” despite having one Black parent. Consider it your moral obligation to correct them. If you allow white supremacy to flourish in your space, you will find yourself indistinguishable from them.

Growing up mixed means that “passing” is more about society assigning you a mold not based on who you are, but what you frequently look like. As the years went on, I learned it is inevitable for my skin to tan in the summer as easily as it pales in the winter. I started taking care of my curls, instead of slicking them back into the straightest bun possible. I saw photos of my father’s mom for the first time and recognized my own smile reflected in hers. 

Though I never fit the stereotype of looking half-Black (whatever that means), I began learning that my version of accidentally passing as white wasn’t always the case. Partners and other mixed people told me that I never actually passed. People at the bus stop asked where I got my hair. Classmates began wondering where I was from. "Here? No, really, where?" I worked at a country club and every day, the patrons would insist that I and the other vaguely racially-ambiguous person on staff must be sisters.

But the constant barrage of questions, no matter how annoying they were, never made me feel like I was in danger. Does it violate a personal boundary when a complete stranger asks me to somehow prove my ethnicity? Yes. Is it aggravating when my middle-aged white manager says, “Oh, so you’re a mulatto,” when I’m cleaning out the espresso machine? Yes. Is it objectifying to talk to someone on Tinder, only to realize they’re only interested in me because they’re ready to live out a porn preference? Without a doubt. 

But being mixed and sometimes maybe sort of "passing"—and all of the complexities and confusions that come with it—is one of those funny things that you can't ever predict. 

One thing is for sure, though: stop telling people you're obsessed with having cute mixed babies. It's weird!

It's February, which means Black History Month 2023 has arrived! And if there's ever been a time to celebrate Black Americans and all that they have contributed to this country, it's now. 

The past couple of years has brought up much-needed conversations about the institutionalized racism and everyday oppression faced by the Black community, violence and injustices that have been woven into the fabric of America since its creation. The worldwide protests led by the Black Lives Matter movement in 2020—galvanized by the police murders of George Floyd, Breonna Taylor and Ahmaud Arbery—proved that the civil rights movement in this country is far from over. (The BLM movement was nominated for a Nobel Peace Prize in 2021.)

While it is imperative to get your feet on the ground and have your support for Black Americans heard at protests, boycotts and, importantly, the voting booth, there are plenty of ways to champion your fellow citizens—socially and economically—from the comforts of home. Whether educating yourself on the real history of America, shopping at Black-owned businesses or donating to anti-racism efforts, here are ways to honor Black History Month 2023.

What is Black History Month?

The origins of Black History Month, a federally recognized celebration of the contributions of Black Americans to the United States, stretch straight back to Carter G. Woodson. 

A Harvard-educated author and historian known as the "Father of Black History," Woodson and his Association for the Study of African American Life and History proposed a "Negro History Week" back in 1926, in an effort to spotlight Black-American history in education curriculums across the country. 

Fifty years later, during the height of the civil rights movement, then-President Gerald Ford expanded the weeklong celebration into Black History Month. 

When is Black History Month?

Carter G. Woodson originally chose the second week of February for "Negro History Week" to coincide with the birthdays of two American icons: Frederick Douglass and Abraham Lincoln. Forty-five years ago, President Ford expanded the event to run throughout the entire month of February; it has been recognized during the second month of the year by every U.S. president ever since. 

How to celebrate Black History Month 2023:

1. Fill your bookshelves with the lives of Black women

'Tis the season to cuddle up with a good book, so take the opportunity to pick up one centered on and penned by Black-American women. Recent memoirs including Finding Me by legendary actress Viola Davis, Constructing a Nervous System by Pulitzer Prize-winning writer Margo Jefferson, The Light We Carry by First Lady Michelle Obama and Token Black Girl, the debut of Danielle Prescod, are all great starting points. 

2. Head to the movie theater

At more than 200 participating locations from Friday, February 3 through Thursday, March 2, AMC Theaters is celebrating Black History Month by offering $5 movie tickets to titles created and led by Black-American actors and filmmakers. The programming initiative will spotlight one film per week:

• February 3–9: the historical drama Till, the true story of Mamie Till-Bradley
• February 10–16: the war drama Devotion, starring Jonathan Majors
• February 17–23: the Viola Davis action flick The Woman King
• February 24–March 2: Marvel's Black Panther: Wakanda Forever

3. Spend a night at the museum—digitally!

The Smithsonian’s National Museum of African American History and Culture is amplifying stories of Black American resistance throughout the month of February. Programs held in the museum’s Oprah Winfrey Theater will stream live on the museum’s Ustream channel, including a screening of the documentary Afrofuturism: The Origin Story, "Black Women and Beauty" poetry workshops and a discussion with Astronaut Victor Glover on the legacy of Black Americans at NASA. 

4. Load up on beauty from Black-owned brands

With Black women in the C-suites and more expansive shades on the shelves, the beauty world has thankfully become more inclusive. Help it be even more so by buying beauty products and skincare items—from the best vitamin C serums around to the best brushes for curly hair—from Black-owned brands, such as B. Simone, Pat McGrath, Juvia's Place, Fenty Beauty and Mented Cosmetics. 

5. Watch a documentary about a Black trailblazer

Equal parts enlightening movies and educational tools, documentaries are an invaluable way to dig into critical moments in Black history, and the brave figures behind them. John Lewis: Good Trouble, The Death and Life of Marsha P. Johnson, Maya Angelou: And Still I Rise and the James Baldwin-based I Am Not Your Negro are all well worth a watch. 

6. Decorate your home with Black art

Scour affordable art sites like Etsy, Society 6 and Minted for prints, photography and inspirational wall art created by talented Black artists. They'll get some much-deserved support and your décor will get a jolt of color and life. Win-win!

7. Research an unsung hero of Black history

You no doubt already know about icons like Rosa Parks, John Lewis, Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr. and Kamala Harris. But there are countless Black Americans who also deserve time in the spotlight. Take time to delve into the lives of fellow Black History heroes like Shirley Chisholm, the first Black woman elected to Congress, Bessie Coleman, the world's first licensed Black pilot; and Ethel Waters, the first Black American to star in her own TV show. 

8. Diversify your social feeds with Black creators

The intentions of #BlackoutTuesday in 2020 were noble, even if the execution left little to be desired. But elevating Black voices across your Instagram, Facebook, Twitter, YouTube and TikTok feeds is a super-easy way of adding some always-welcome diversity and inclusivity to your everyday scroll sessions. 

9. Order meals from a Black-owned restaurant

Most restaurants have taken quite a financial hit during the coronavirus pandemic, but Black-owned restaurants are even more likely. According to data out of the University of California, 41% of Black-owned businesses shuttered since February 2020, compared to 17% of white-owned businesses. Give your local Black-owned kitchens and cafes a boost by ordering directly from them for your next take-out meal. 

10. Donate to anti-racism and equality efforts

If the past few years have taught us anything, it's that anti-racism work is vital for our country's survival. And putting our money where our mouth is is one of the simplest ways to show support. So, choose a Black-led cause that you're passionate about—the Black Youth Project, say, or the Black Mamas Matter Alliance—and donate those dollars!

Black History Month is here and while there are plenty of ways to celebrate it (including educating yourself with these Black History Month facts), watching movies that tell true stories of Black culture, history, and identity is a good place to start.

This doesn't just mean movies about the hardships of the Black experience, from slavery to the civil rights movement—though these are vital, no matter how difficult they may be to watch—but rather films that represent Black culture through love and joy, while acknowledging the truth about Black history in America and beyond. 

Here, we've compiled a list of some of the most powerful Black History Month movies to date. From cinematic celebrations of Black heroes and notable milestones throughout time, to hard-hitting films exploring the complexities of race, racism, and inequality, these are the movies you need to add to your watch list immediately...

Black History Month movies to add to your watch list:

'Malcolm X' (1992)

Spike Lee's beautiful tribute to Malcolm X, the human rights activist and civil rights icon, is one of the Oscar-winning filmmaker's finest works. It stars Denzel Washington in the titular role and chronicles the highs and lows of Malcolm's life whilst highlighting his immeasurable contributions to the civil rights movement and empowerment of Black people. From his imprisonment in the 1950s to becoming a leader in the Nation of Islam and, later, his tragic assassination, Lee revisits the foundation of Malcolm X's legacy and the way he instilled racial pride in the Black community. 

'Hidden Figures' (2016)

Featuring an all-star cast including Taraji P. Henson, Janelle Monae and Octavia Spencer, Hidden Figures tells the inspiring real-life story of three Black women at NASA—Katherine Johnson, Dorothy Vaughan and Mary Jackson—all of whom contributed to one of the greatest human achievements in history: the launch of astronaut John Glenn into space. 

'Selma' (2014)

Ava Duvernay's Selma not only featured a star-studded cast (she had everyone from from Oprah to Tessa Thompson and Common involved) but it tells the important story of the racial struggles that continued to prevail in America even after the Civil Rights Act of 1964 legally desegregated the South. It tells the story of the fight for justice in 1965 Alabama, where despite violent opposition, Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. (played by David Oyelowo) and his followers pressed forward on a march from Selma to Montgomery. Their efforts led to President Lyndon Johnson signing the Voting Rights Act of 1965.

'The Inspection' (2022)

The history of Black America is an intersectional one, one intrinsically interwoven with the women's rights and gay rights movements in this country. The Inspection is a deeply moving adaptation of director Elegance Bratton's own story as a young, gay Black man (played by Jeremy Pope) who, facing homelessness and rejection from his religious mother (Gabrielle Union), decides to join the Marines and fight for his own future. 

'Judas and the Black Messiah' (2021)

Also known as the movie that earned Daniel Kaluuya his first Oscar, Judas and the Black Messiah tells the story of Black Panther chairman Fred Hampton and how a man named William O'Neal infiltrated the Illinois chapter of the Black Panther Party to gather intelligence against him after making a deal with the FBI. The true story not only includes some seriously good acting from the entire cast (including LaKeith Stanfield, Dominique Fishback and Jesse Plemons, among others), but will no doubt teach you a thing or two!

'Maya Angelou: And Still I Rise' (2016)

This documentary tells the story of the mighty Maya Angelou, the world-renowned poet, writer, actor and activist. Angelou's life intersected some of the most significant moments in the recent history of not only African Americans but the US as a whole. 

'Do The Right Thing' (1989)

Another classic Spike Lee feature, Do The Right Thing tells the story of racial tension in a Brooklyn neighborhood. It stems from a disagreement between Italia pizzeria owner Sal and local "Buggin' Out," when Buggin notices that there are no Black actors on the restaurant's Italians-only Wall of Fame. He feels that since the restaurant is in a Black neighborhood, there should be Black representation. Naturally, things escalate but the movie as a whole (and its core message) portrays a realistic view of African American life in New York City.

'Summer of Soul' (2021)

Step back into 1969 with Summer of Soul (...Or, When the Revolution Could Not Be Televised), the 2021 Oscar-winning documentary directed by Ahmir "Questlove" Thompson centered on the Harlem Cultural Festival, a summer concert series in New York City that featured a truly iconic musical lineup including Stevie Wonder, Nina Simone, Gladys Knight & the Pips, Sly and the Family Stone, Mavis Staples and more. With a mix of talking-head interviews and professional footage straight from the fest, this one will have you grooving in your seat. 

'13th' (2016)

The Netflix documentary is a powerful and educational watch, dissecting the history of racial inequality in the US. It focuses on the fact that the nation's prisons are disproportionately filled with African-Americans and features several activists, academics, representatives from both major US political parties, and public figures including Angela Davis, Bryan Stevenson, Michelle Alexander, Jelani Cobb, Van Jones, Cory Booker and Henry Louis Gates Jr., among others. 

'I Am Not Your Negro' (2016)

Based on James Baldwin's unfinished 1979 manuscript, Remember This House, the documentary explores the work of civil rights leaders Medgar Evers, Malcolm X, and Martin Luther King Jr., all told through Baldwin's own experiences and personal observations.

'Waiting to Exhale' (1995)

Waiting to Exhale is the ultimate feel-good movie, showcasing the beautiful friendship between four Black women as they each navigate through careers, family and romance. The legendary cast includes Whitney Houston, Angela Bassett, Lela Rochon and Loretta Devine—playing four of the Black cinema characters that shaped us—and you can expect them to tackle all the love-life drama, from "other woman" status to heartbreak and divorce, the excitement of new love and the power of friendship in all of it.  

'Sylvie’s Love' (2020)

Starring Tessa Thompson and Nnamdi Asomugha as leads (with a supporting role feature from Bridgerton's very own Regé-Jean Page), Sylvie's Love is a romantic drama about—you guessed it—a young woman named Sylvie (Thomspon), who has a summer romance with a saxophonist (Asomugha) who takes a job at her father's record store in Harlem. When they reconnect years later, they discover that their feelings for each other have not faded with the years.

'One Night in Miami...' (2020)

Set in Miami, Florida, on the night of February 25, 1964, Regina King's directorial debut One Night in Miami... sees Cassius Clay join fellow cultural icons Jim Brown, Sam Cooke and Malcolm X as they discuss the responsibility of being successful Black men during the civil rights movement in America. 

'The Photograph' (2020)

We love anything starring Issa Rae (check out our love letter to Insecure and its portrayal of Black womanhood) and The Photograph not only features the boss babe but also is a beautiful representation of Black love. Mae Morton (Rae) and Michael Block (played by LaKeith Stanfield) fall for one another as Mae sets out to investigate a photo she found of her estranged mother while cleaning out her things.

It's February, which means Black History Month is finally upon us in the US—the perfect time to school yourself on Black History Month facts. 

The annual celebration revisits some of the biggest achievements of African Americans through time, whilst championing Black culture, identity and heritage. But when and where did it originate? And why does it fall in February? They are all pretty common questions, and ones we are here to answer. 

But first, in the words of former President Barack Obama: "Black History Month shouldn’t be treated as though it is somehow separate from our collective American history, or somehow just boiled down to a compilation of greatest hits from the March on Washington, or from some of our sports heroes. It’s about the lived, shared experience of all African Americans, high and low, famous and obscure, and how those experiences have shaped and challenged and ultimately strengthened America. It’s about taking an unvarnished look at the past so we can create a better future. It’s a reminder of where we as a country have been so that we know where we need to go."

So, as we gear up to celebrate by making our way through the incredible Black History Month events being held this year, from art exhibitions and theatre shows to Black movie marathons, here are some key facts you need to know about Black History Month and its significance. 

Black History Month facts

Who started Black History Month?

Black History Month, originally known as African American History Month, stems from 'Negro History Week', which was founded by Harvard-educated historian Carter G. Woodson and other prominent African Americans from the Association for the Study of Negro Life and History in 1915.

It was officially recognized in 1976

While it started in 1915, the celebration was only officially recognized in 1976 by President Gerald Ford, who asked the American people to “seize the opportunity to honor the too-often neglected accomplishments of Black Americans in every area of endeavor throughout our history.”

Why was Black History Month created?

Woodson created Negro History Week as he believed that young African Americans in the early 20th century were not being taught enough about their own heritage, and the achievements of their ancestors. To change things, he turned to his fraternity, Omega Psi Phi, which led to the birth of Negro History and Literature Week in 1924—the start of what we know as Black History Month today.

Why is Black History Month in February?

The month of February is when Black History Month is held in the United States. Why? Because this was the month selected by Woodson when he first launched 'Negro History Week' on the second week of February in 1924. The date was selected as it spanned across the birthdays of Abraham Lincoln (on February 12th) and Frederick Douglass (February 14th), according to Daryl Michael Scott, Professor of History at Howard University and Vice President of Program for the Association for the Study of African American Life and History.

Other countries celebrate Black History Month too

Canada and the UK are two other countries that celebrate Black History Month. While Canada celebrates in February like the US, the UK picked October as the month to mark it. 

The reason for this is because Black History Month was first celebrated in October 1987 in the UK, on the 150th anniversary of Caribbean emancipation. It was organized by Ghanaian analyst Akyaaba Addai-Sebo, who worked for the Greater London Council, starting in the capital before eventually spreading to the rest of the country as a national celebration. 

Growing up, Black TV was my gateway into the Black community. 

I was mesmerized by shows like The Fresh Prince of Bel-Air and Moesha, and quickly found that by watching Black characters laugh, cry, struggle, and succeed on television, I was afforded a chance to explore a side of myself that I was unacquainted with, and subconsciously hid from the people around me.

I grew up predominantly in white spaces—my parents, who immigrated to the U.S. in the 1980s from Kenya, had their struggles assimilating to and surviving within American culture. Conservative whites rejected their presence (unsurprisingly), as did Black Americans (which was much more surprising). My parents' foreignness was off-putting to most of the Black people they came about. They called them Uncle Toms and questioned why they weren’t draped in African regalia or talked like Eddie Murphy in Coming to America. So they shied away from the Black community, in an effort to protect their mental health and what remained of their dignity. 

And when I came along, they applied that same avoidance of Black spaces to the way they raised me. Don’t get me wrong, it was a beautiful childhood, and I was aware of my Blackness and loved being Black. But I wasn’t among others besides my parents who looked like me. 

More often than not, I was the sole Black girl in the room and, from an early age, was already well-acquainted with questions like, “Wow, your hair just stands up! Can I touch it?” and “You have a great singing voice. Why can all Black girls sing?” That was my normal—I quickly got used to being surrounded by people who didn’t understand me or the realities of my existence. 

After school, or whatever extracurricular activity I partook in that semester, I’d run home with one mission in mind: to catch my favorite Black sitcoms. I’d sit on our slightly rough, yet comforting carpet in our upstate New York home and throw on the TV. 

There, waiting for me like a loyal pup or cozy security blanket, were the likes of Will Smith, Moesha Mitchell, Raven Baxter, and more to usher me into their wonderful world of Blackness. I loved them all, but what was particularly captivating to me was the Black female characters on these shows. They were so beautiful, funny, and larger-than-life. Like most little Black girls, I wanted to be them.

It was the little things that got me, like the way Moesha’s micro braids would whip around or how Hilary Banks would saunter around the Banks’ home. Their warmth and realness made me feel safe to explore a part of myself that I hid from my peers. These characters gave me permission to be more than the Black girl in Mrs. Hargreaves' class. They invited me into a community I was so separated from, but desperately longed to be a part of.

Fast forward over a decade later—in 2016, to be exact—and Insecure premiered on HBO. The series, which followed the indecisive Issa Dee (Issa Rae) and her BFF Molly (Yvonne Orji) navigate the nuanced trials and tribulations that come with Black womanhood, fell into my roster of shows at a time when I was feeling more isolated than ever. I was at home from college for the year, thanks to a pretty serious health crisis. I was physically isolated from my friends, who were back at school enjoying the carefreeness of junior year. And I was emotionally and spiritually isolated from my body. No one knew what was going on, and I’d never felt more lost in my life.

Issa and Molly gave me comfort. I had never seen a show like Insecure on TV before. Here were two dark-skinned women at the forefront of this major TV show, who were so lost and unsure of themselves, but incredibly beautiful and deeply loved the Black people and places around them. Issa was a mess for the majority of the series’ run, bouncing from longtime lover Lawrence to newer baes like Nathan and Calvin. The first half of the show saw her utterly dissatisfied professionally, working for a “woke” organization aimed at empowering Black and Brown kids.

That later became my life. Like Issa, I found myself bouncing from an old college flame to suitors met on Hinge and Bumble. I was beyond dissatisfied at my job working for white frat brothers turned tech bros and, like Issa too, I constantly complained about it all without doing much to change it.

Then there’s Molly, who was the subject of scrutiny throughout the show’s tenure. Molly was a woman after my own heart. She did way too much in relationships—a habit I knew all too well—and found that switching from a workplace that was mostly white to mostly Black was not as smooth a transition as she expected. Molly’s romantic journey was the arch that really spoke to me. Seeing Molly force so many relationships that just weren’t the right fit, to then taking some time to heal and recalibrate, to finally finding an organic love with coworker Taurean, was inspirational. And a beautiful message to Black women everywhere.

When news broke that Insecure’s fifth season would be its last, it was a hard pill to swallow. The show had meant so much to me and the Black community at large. Sunday nights would see Twitter set ablaze as watchers tweeted their thoughts on the new episode. Viewers cared so much about Insecure’s characters and the world it portrayed—we felt like these were our friends, and we saw ourselves in Issa and Molly. We wholeheartedly wanted to see them succeed, because if they could find the relationships and careers of their dreams, maybe we could, too.

Insecure’s legacy isn’t the Twitter debates the show inspired or even the many Black creatives it put on the map. The beloved HBO show will forever be remembered for its portrayal of Black women. The show transformed Hollywood for so many reasons but most notably its commitment to showing Black women laughing, failing, crying, thriving, and just being. 

Insecure was always my reminder that it was okay that I was a mess and that I made mistakes and I was scared. It helped me realize that, as the show’s final episode is titled, everything is going to be okay. And that’s Black TV at its best.

You can stream all five seasons of Insecure on HBO Max.