James Baldwin once said that leaving America for Paris in 1948 was an act of survival: "The years I lived in Paris did one thing for me—they released me from that particular social terror which is not the paranoia of my own mind but a real social danger visible in the face of every cop, every boss, everybody."

To be seen is not the same as being recognized. Invisible Man exposes how visibility can be conditional, transactional—even manipulated. As DEI rollbacks and book bans rise, Ellison’s novel feels eerily relevant.

When I stood before Mrs. Ogburn’s third-grade class to recite “Mother to Son,” I could feel my “childness” trying to hold something too large for my small hands—its mass and weight slipping through my fingers.

This Black History Month, let’s accept the invitation to immerse ourselves in the brilliance of our literary ancestors and receive their words as catalysts that spark our own.