From the rhythm in our speech to the power in our art, from the flavor in our food to the soul in our sound, Black America has never participated in culture; we have defined it. Our influence has shaped music, fashion, language, film, politics, and education worldwide. And yet, at a time when some are trying to erase that truth, remembering who we are has never been more critical.
Recent efforts to rewrite history have reached new levels of intensity. President Donald Trump’s administration has directed museums like the Smithsonian to remove what they call “divisive narratives,” accusing curators of focusing too much on slavery rather than “American exceptionalism.” In one post, Trump described the Smithsonian as “out of control” for highlighting the horrors of slavery instead of the success of the nation. His directive calls for museums to reshape how history is told to “restore confidence in our shared institutions.”
Still, let’s be clear. Any attempt to sanitize Black history is an attack on truth itself.
A Digital Museum of Our Joy
That is where Kevin Getem enters the chat. As the founder of the Instagram pages @80s90sera, @2000sera, @10sera, and @60s70sera, he has built what he calls a “digital museum” celebrating the beauty and depth of Black culture across generations. With more than one million followers, including LeBron James, Kevin Durant, and Jaylen Brown, his pages archive the essence of our eras. “I wanted to create a digital museum for eras that shaped us,” Getem told EBONY. “Specifically for Black culture, and also the fashion and music through a modern Gen Z perspective.”
It all started as a hobby. He grew up surrounded by music, hearing old school songs played by his father and brother. Soon he began to share with the public what had been a soundtrack to his life. “I literally just wanted to start something where I could archive it on my page,” he said. “When people scroll, it takes them back to a moment when they were happy and stress-free.”
The Beat That Built the World
Every era of Black creativity has carried the power to transform. The 1990s alone changed everything. That was the decade when Michael Jordan’s Bulls defined excellence, Tiger Woods redefined golf, and Allen Iverson turned cornrows into a cultural statement.
Florence “Flo Jo” Joyner made her nails an international fashion symbol, and sitcoms like Martin and Living Single became weekly peaks into the nuance of the Black experience. As he sees it, his pages do more than celebrate nostalgia; they teach it. “Every new artist you see right now is sampling old music,” he said. “I feel like my era pages are here to stay. It’s timeless.”
From Nostalgia to Knowledge
His followers come to his pages for memories but stay for education. “People come to my page to learn,” he said. “They’ll comment that they did not know this person wrote that song or produced that beat. I post artists who have been forgotten because I want people to remember how important they are.”
That practice of remembrance is sacred. Especially now, when those in power seek to distort or delete the record. The Trump administration’s push to “de-woke” museums and limit the full story of slavery is more than political theater. It is an ideological attack on the truth, and these digital archives stands in defiance of that.
The Culture They Cannot Contain
Black expression has always been both spiritual and political, rooted in the need to be seen and to be free. Whether through song, speech, or style, our creativity has always carried a message, and fashion is no exception. From FUBU and Rocawear to Baby Phat and Phat Farm, our look has always been our language.
Each braid, beat, lyric, and look carries the memory of survival and imagination. Even when systems try to silence truth, our culture keeps speaking. Getem’s dreams of expanding his platform into a media network that honors every era of Black creativity. “I want to be the main hub for those eras,” he said. “Something like an MTV, but for our culture.”
That vision is about reclaiming our right to tell our stories in our own voices. His pages are a reminder that we have always documented our own humanity, even when others tried to control the narrative. “I’m not going anywhere anytime soon,” he said. “I’ve been posting for ten years now, and I’m only getting stronger.”
The culture will always find a way to speak, even when the world tries to quiet it, and no matter how hard they try, they cannot erase what we created.