When Mike Wallace asked for his thoughts on Black History Month, Morgan Freeman famously responded that it was “ridiculous” to “relegate my history to a month.”

“I don’t want a Black History Month,” he stated. “Black history is American history.” Wallace had no response, save “how we gonna get rid of racism?”

“Stop talking about it,” Freeman responded. “I’m going to stop calling you a white man. And I’m going to ask you to stop calling me a black man.”

Freeman’s comments had historical antecedent. Indeed, Dr. Carter G. Woodson, the “Father of Black History” and founder of “Negro History Week”— later to become Black History Month — hoped for the day when black history was such an essential aspect of American history that a special commemoration was no longer necessary.

Whether that day has or will ever arrive was a side issue. He seemed to argue a deeper point — that it is no longer necessary or worthwhile to emphasize Black distinctiveness, that what matters more is common humanity.

Former Cornell professor Allan Bloom agreed, arguing in The Closing of the American Mind that “the ‘ethnic’ differences we see in the United States are but decaying reminiscences of old differences that caused our ancestors to kill one another. The animating principle ... has disappeared from them.” In emphasizing universal rights, American society stigmatized adherence to particularized “fundamental values” and, by extension, any meaningful ethnic “identity.”

Indeed, in some sense American society has created the perception that to become a full-fledged member one must avoid the specific mannerisms of a narrow-minded community. Thus, if one is to maintain some semblance of an ethnic identity, it must not clash or even seriously interact with one’s identity as a good American; in other words, it must not affect one’s daily, “normal” routine.

These assumptions are mirrored on our campus. Consider how Hillel cannot demand any sort of serious, continuing commitment from Jewish students and how Black History Month has been advertised only with a special themed dinner at North Star with “Ham Hocks and Collard Greens” and “Deep Fried Southern Ribs.” A lifestyle is too much to ask for.

That is not to say, however, that there are no seriously engaged “ethnic” groups. However, those groups that do foster a serious commitment to “ethnic community” are either under-the-radar — like the Center for Jewish Living and the Catholic Fellowship — or are considered to clash with the University’s values of integration and universalism — like the “ethnic” program houses and Chi Alpha.

In other words, we value only those cultural groups that mirror our own values. “Segregationist” African American students and “homophobic” Pentecostals need not apply.

Ironically, then, ideas of accepting every culture — based on Enlightenment notions of equality and universal rights — have in fact encouraged a move away from particularism, towards a universal identity — the “common humanity” Freeman favored over the divisive “ethnic” categories. Our drive to accept culture has in some sense led to its diminishment.

Andrew Sullivan made a similar point regarding what he described as “the end of a distinctive gay culture.” Chronicling the gay community’s development from post-Stonewall subversiveness to more “domestic” modes, he noted that it lost its distinctiveness at the moment of acceptance by mainstream society. Marginalization was the insulation that preserved a distinct culture.

Similarly, years of exclusion forged the rich cultures of Jews and blacks. However, once those barriers crumbled significant segments of these communities saw little reason to maintain a unique identity.

This is not to say, of course, that we should resume exclusion in order to preserve culture. Rather we should recognize that there is an inherent tension between multiculturalism and culture, as its means eradicate its desired ends.

It is therefore worthwhile to return to Freeman’s statement. “Black history is American history” — not “American history is black history.” American history does not belong exclusively to blacks — it is not, as some ethnic particularists would claim, only the story of slavery, racism and civil rights. Freeman therefore rejects Bloom’s equation of “real” culture with isolation and isolated narratives.

Rather, he argues that without the narratives of Black history American history would be incomplete. Therefore, if we want to make room for a distinct culture within the American narrative, we must explore how these two histories are inextricable, how “black” and “American” cultures intertwine and influence one another so that it makes little sense to talk about either as wholly “pure.”

This effort requires a serious and engaged reflection. Therefore, if we truly wish to celebrate black culture, we must not, to paraphrase Freeman, relegate its history to ham hocks.

Judah Bellin is a sophomore in the College of Arts and Sciences. He may be reached at judahbellin@cornellsun.com. For Whom the Bellin Tolls appears alternate Mondays this semester.