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Black Catholic history means remembering our roots

Tamika Royes on the work of reorienting the Church's memory and championing the legacy of the ancestors.

(Google Gemini)

Participating, organizing, or attending Black History Month celebrations in February provided great opportunities to connect with the community. The opportunity to see our culture reflected in all its glory obviously should not only be relegated to one month of the year. However, the reality is that Black history continues to face erasure in various spaces, including schools and even within our Catholic Church. This is despite the fact that Black people have been part of the Catholic story since the time of Jesus Christ. 

Christianity itself did not begin in France, Spain, Portugal, or any other European country. The birthplace was in an upper room of first-century Palestine on the day of Pentecost. Once the Apostles had received the gift of the Holy Spirit, their mission to “make disciples of all nations” flourished. Black people have always been included in this story and Black Catholics should not hesitate to share our stories and contributions across the globe.

Black Catholics, although relatively small in number in the United States, have a significant presence—approximately three million—whose voices, experiences, and communities should be included in the spotlight of celebrations of Black history. The idea that the Catholic story excludes Black people frames religion in a way that privileges the European context and its further development in the Americas. However, when considering our history as Black Catholics, we can also use every opportunity to remind everyone that religion and spirituality have been a unique aspect of the Black experience.

During my formative years in elementary school, it was certainly a challenge to find recognition of the contributions of Black people in history. In high school, there was passing mention of slavery and even less attention given to figures like Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. Thankfully, I was raised in a home that fostered education and further reading. Thus, I came to know figures like Harriet Tubman, Malcolm X, Frederick Douglass, Viola Desmond, Booker T. Washington, Nanny of the Maroons, Paul Bogle, and those in my own community fighting for racial justice and equality.

However, very little was known or discussed when it came to Black Catholic history. For several years, I was under the impression that Black people had made little or no contribution to the Church. I did not see myself reflected in any of the lives of the saints and no one was actually speaking on the Black Catholic story. The best example I had was my maternal grandmother, who served the Church in rural Jamaica for 60 years as a sacristan. 

This was before the Second Vatican Council, so despite being functionally illiterate, she knew the Latin in which the Mass was celebrated. Her entire life revolved around the Church and her devotion to her Catholic faith never wavered. I took for granted the example that she was representing in my life in her contribution to the Black Catholic story. Many of us, upon further reflection, have family members like mothers, fathers, grandparents, godparents, aunts, and uncles who have been our own personal witnesses to the Catholic faith.

ValLimar Jansen speaks at All Saints Catholic Church in Syracuse during a Convocation of Catholics of African Descent in April 2024. (Julia Carden/The Post-Standard)

These examples in our own lives allow us to see that the Black Catholic experience is also Black history. The majority of my own family would identify with some strain of Protestantism and would find it difficult to see the Black experience in the Catholic faith. I think this is also true of Black Catholics, who have often divorced the Black Catholic story from wider Black history. It has occurred to me that erasing Black Catholicism from Black history helps to foster a very popular narrative that Black Catholics do not exist. 

As such, our contributions have not had the focus they deserve in the life of the Church or the lives of Black people generally. This concerns me greatly—the erasure of our stories, our history, our lives, especially given the sacrifices that so many have made. Black Catholics have made outstanding contributions to the struggle for liberation, which is a key theme in Black history. 

Black Catholics must also be invited to the table so that our stories can be heard alongside other great heroes of the abolitionist movement or the Civil Rights era. Additionally, we must remember the witness of saints like Augustine, Moses the Black, Athanasius, Charles Lwanga and his companions, Cyprian, and my personal patron, Josephine Bakhita.

St. Josephine, a modern saint, had a tumultuous life, including enslavement and her fight for freedom and liberation. Ultimately, she found both in the Catholic Church and as a Canossian nun, a role in which she served for nearly fifty years, caring and loving those in need. She is not only a role model for Black Catholics, but her triumph over evil also belongs to Black history generally. She is a role model in liberation, love, forgiveness, and perseverance, all of which permeate the lives of so many of our heroes. 

The contributions of Black Catholics in Black history remain integral to telling the story of triumph over evil and the power of Jesus in the lives of our people. Black Catholics have a story, and it, too, belongs to the rich heritage that is Black history. I think both can and should be celebrated, as this is who we are. Our story is Black history, Catholic history, and the history of the diaspora.


Tamika Royes has fifteen years of experience in the social services sector in various roles. She has been a tireless advocate of justice causes, beginning in high school. She is currently pursuing a post-graduate certificate at Assumption University.


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