By Kenneth L. Hardin

I can’t count the number of times I pressed hard down on the delete key while writing this until all the words disappeared. I’m saddened and disheartened, I even have to share this unfortunate interaction. A 50-year-old white retired Navy veteran, who volunteers at my Veterans Center, came to me upset last weekend. This man, who stood bravely atop a vessel in a N.J. harbor and watched the planes crash into the twin towers on 9/11, was standing in front of me angry and near tears. In my absence last week, he had an encounter with an elderly white couple in the hallway at the entrance to our facility. He asked if they were veterans and extended an invitation for them to come inside. He was taken aback when they shared that they were members of a local American Legion and was told their facility doesn’t support ours because “it’s too dark in there.” He paced back and forth and angrily pounded his fist into his hand as he stated in a hushed angry tone, “Man, we take care of everybody. Everybody is welcomed here. I care a lot about this place. This kind of stuff pisses me off.”    

My immediate response was different in emotion and verbiage than his. I told him I wasn’t surprised the feeling was out there as it wasn’t the first time I’ve had to deal with similar comments and attitudes in the 23 months we’ve been operating. I shared how disheartening it was that we’re offering a free facility and services to help those, who honorably served, to deal with mental health challenges like PTSD, depression, loneliness and traumatic brain injury, but there are people with such hate-filled and narrow-minded views that they can’t support or appreciate our unselfish endeavor. I told him that instead of responding in kind or retaliating, I’ve chosen to focus on the many accomplishments we’ve achieved, the diverse population who visit, the diverse makeup of our volunteer group, and the overwhelming support from people of so many different backgrounds in Rowan County, across the state and across this country. I’m saddened for the volunteer who had to hear this, but whoever uttered the comment will not deter us from our mission to care for all veterans.

Soldiers of color have bravely fought and participated in every war and conflict since this country’s inception. Even during the period of forced servitude, mired deep in the subjugation of slavery, skinfolk volunteered to die for this country. All Africans in America have wanted is to be woven into the fabric of this nation and recognized with the same privileges, rights and humanity as others. This incident and others I’ve endured brought to mind a poem by Langston Hughes, who felt ostracized because of his skin color, but still felt as American as anyone else, “I, too, sing America. I am the darker brother. They send me to eat in the kitchen when company comes. But I laugh, eat well and grow strong. Tomorrow, I’ll be at the table when company comes. Nobody’ll dare say to me, ‘Eat in the kitchen,’ then. Besides, they’ll see how beautiful I am and be ashamed. I, too, am America.”

I’m often asked why I feel comfortable saying things publicly most people of color would find hesitancy in expressing. I explained my willingness to challenge hate-inspired societal norms and those quietly complicit was not a place I always found comfort. But enduring repeated incidents like the aforementioned made it necessary. Not all skinfolk agree with my outspokenness and willingness to demand civility, humanity and respect. A local Knee Grow leader called and said, “The way you talk, you’re messing things up for other Black people here.” My response is a quote from French existentialist philosopher Simone de Beauvoir, “The oppressor would not be so strong if he didn’t have accomplices among the oppressed.”

What those who openly criticize and silently judge me should ask is why I’m so verbally ebullient about this. They would better understand why I and other conscious and courageous Africans in America come so hard at people who try to take away our dignity. Over the course of my professional life, I worked jobs where I was the only face of color. I was subjected to an extreme amount of racist language and actions without support or recourse. This even extended to my time as an elected official here in Salisbury. You can only turn your cheek so many times before you tire of the repeated assault and resulting whiplash. I’m willing to forgo every professional opportunity and personal comfort I enjoy before I ever allow anyone to direct hate at me again.

What I’ve learned is what you permit, you promote, what you allow, you encourage, what you condone, you own.

Kenneth L. (Kenny) Hardin is a member of the National Association of Black Journalists.