We were all taught pleasant little fictions. It has always been thus.
Early Americans were taught about Washington and the cherry tree, surely just as early Romans were taught myths about their leaders. Most of this is fine—provided that the stories are there to inspire, to teach moral lessons. But there is another kind of lie we tell our kids, usually about more recent history, and the purpose of this lie is not to instruct but to obstruct. To hide the truth about what their ancestors did…and in some cases, about what they are still doing.
There is a jaw-dropping scene in Wright Thompson’s incredible and essential book The Barn (his recent episode on the Daily Stoic podcast is also a must-listen) where in the course of his research about the tragedy of Emmett Till, he decided to go back and look at the textbook he had been assigned as a kid in Mississippi.
He was shocked by what he read. Giving it no more than a few sentences, his textbook explained that Emmett Till had made a pass on a white woman and that the resulting media attention had reflected negatively on the area. Can you imagine?! Of course you can, because every history book is filled with lies like this. The stories we tell our children about our parents and their parents and their country are filled with lies like this. Lies that let us off the hook. Lies that smooth over the rough edges…to the point of obliterating the truth.
We do this because we don’t want to hurt their feelings. But all we’re doing is inflicting another kind of harm—not just on society, but on our children’s ability to rise above these injustices and shape a better future. It’s tempting to think that we’re protecting their belief in the world and in humanity by shielding them from the horrors of the past, but real hope isn’t built on illusions. It comes from understanding history and believing in change. We tell our children the truth not to burden them but to empower and equip them with an honest frame of reference to recognize injustice, challenge it, and create something better. That’s why our children deserve textbooks with the real stories and the real history—not to dwell on the past, but because hope rooted in truth is the only kind of hope that lasts.
P.S. You can grab copies of Wright Thompson’s The Barn, which is essential reading during Black History Month, over at the Painted Porch. You can also watch our full two-hour podcast episode with Wright—who discussed how political rhetoric has shaped racial violence and why history is closer than we think—over at The Daily Stoic YouTube channel.
