My American Grandfather

In the spring, I think of my grandfather.  The smell of cut grass and early buds on trees remind me of the land he toiled.  He was a farmer, born in 1929 in the rural Black belt of Alabama. He was America to me.  His weathered hands and the framed photos of his military service told the complex story of this nation’s history.  

My grandfather’s family sharecropped until he served in the Korean War.  After the war, he and his brother used their GI benefits to return to Alabama and purchase exactly 40 acres. He never talked about his military service and seldom traveled after his military career.  He was quiet and stately, deeply revered by extended family and he died nurturing the land he fought to acquire. 

In this moment, I am reminded of all he represented: veteran, farmer, sharecropper, descendant of enslaved people, father and grandfather, American.  In this season, I am reminded of his toil.  

His choices didn’t always make sense to me.  He was a proud man who certainly could have left the American South after his service, as so many did during the great migration, but he chose to return to Alabama. As an adult, I often muse over the choice to purchase exactly 40 acres.  Perhaps it was all they could afford, but I suspect it was a more affirmative statement of acquiring for themselves what no one would give.  

I have lived and worked all over the world.  When you are African American abroad and asked where you are from, folks are often puzzled when you reply “America.”  They sometimes go on to ask, “Where are your grandparents from?” The exchange makes me think of him.  

My grandfather stayed in the South because he understood the generations of sacrifice our family poured into that region of this country and the wealth those sacrifices built.  I think he stayed because he felt he had a right to own land and make a home anywhere he chose.  I can only imagine how he would react in these times, when so many fundamental freedoms are being eroded and a select few, who have not served or sacrificed as he did, claim it in the name of American greatness.   

Today, some leaders are being stripped of their First Amendment rights. Others are being targeted for believing in issues as critical as racial equity.  Beyond eroding the fundamental fabric of our democracy, these tactics are designed to instill fear in those who have yet to be targeted.  These tactics are designed to force those who disagree to abandon their core beliefs, leave jobs and careers, and even flee this nation.  

Whether or not you are one of these leaders or care about the issues they advance, the stripping of their rights and protections should concern you.  When fundamental freedoms become negotiable for some, they become negotiable for all.  

My grandfather never talked about what it was like to be a veteran or Black male landowner in rural Alabama during Jim Crow.  But I cannot imagine it was easy.  I cannot imagine the indignities he endured to hold that land.  I am also not sure I fully appreciated the courage it took to stay planted in the face of those assaults.  He refused to abandon his rights and freedom, and by doing so, he protected those rights for future generations.  His legacy is evident; my family still owns that land to this day and his courage animates so much of what I do.

For me, the lesson is simple.  This season will be tough, but we need to plant our feet and stand with the knowledge that we have every right to be here.  We have every right to enjoy the freedoms, First Amendment and otherwise, that my grandfather served to protect, not because they are benevolent gifts, but because our ancestors built this nation and fought for those rights.  

We also need to remember that we have a responsibility, we must continue paying forward the sacrifice that the generations before us made to ensure our descendants enjoy a fully realized American dream.  We are designing our own legacies in this moment.  

What will you decide? As we head into Memorial Day weekend and honor those who have fought for our freedoms, I hope you will choose to plant your feet right beside me and raise your voice.  I hope you will deem the sacrifice for a future generation worth the toil.  I hope you remember where you’ve come from, how courageous you are, and how much you are needed in this moment.