With Liberty and Justice for All

Like many people around the world, I have grieved for Amhaud Arbery, George Floyd, Tony McDade, Breonna Taylor, and their family and friends. While I have spent hours talking to family, friends, neighbors, colleagues, and mentees trying to make sense of my emotions and where we are as a country, "with liberty and justice for all" keeps echoing in my mind. 

I started kindergarten in 1987 at a public school in Hampton, Virginia named after Cesar Tarrant. He was an enslaved man who was trained as a river pilot, joined the Virginia Navy, and gallantly piloted a ship appropriately named "Patriot" during the Revolutionary War.

One of the first things I learned in kindergarten was how to recite thirty-one words — the Pledge of Allegiance. But it was not until the summer before I started middle school, that I critically reflected on what those thirty-one words really meant.

After spending the first six years of my childhood education at a school named after Cesar Tarrant, learning about black history and my liberties as an American, I was zoned to attend a middle school named after Jefferson Davis.  

Jefferson Davis was a United States senator best known as the president of the secessionist Confederate States of America during the Civil War. He was later indicted for treason, though never tried, and remained a symbol of Southern pride until his death in 1889.  

It was hard for me to wrap my head around the fact that I was about to attend a middle school named after Jefferson Davis. I could not understand why a public school in the United States of America would be named after a man who led the rebel states that wanted to secede from the country. It did not seem honorable or just for a public middle school to be named after a man who was indicted for treason.  

I am thankful that my fifth-grade teacher, a white woman, allowed me to express my concerns about attending Jefferson Davis Middle and, on the last day of school, gave me a brand-new copy of W.E.B. Du Bois's book Souls of Black Folk.

As a rising sixth grader, with access to a dictionary and a dated set of encyclopedias, I read the Souls of Black Folk.

That summer, I learned from Du Bois the concept that "the problem of the Twentieth Century is the problem of the color-line." I also learned about, "double-consciousness, this sense of always looking at one's self through the eyes of others." Perhaps more importantly, that summer, I read an assessment about the progress of blacks in America, the obstacles to that progress, and the possibilities for future progress as the nation entered the twentieth century. That book gave me a framework that helped me understand the context of the country in which I lived and my role in helping my country be a more perfect union.

September 1993, I recited the Pledge of Allegiance at the beginning of the morning announcements on my first day of sixth grade. I struggled to fight back warm tears as I recited the last six words, "with liberty and justice for all" because I felt the weight of the people who sacrificed for me to be a black female student attending Jefferson Davis Middle School. I also felt anxious about the sacrifices I knew I would have to make to help the United States of America progress to the point where no student would have to attend a public school named in honor of the president of the secessionist Confederate States of America during the Civil War who was later indicted for treason, but never tried.

Like many American students, I continued to recite the Pledge of Allegiance until I graduated from high school in 2000. I wish I could say that on my last day of reciting the Pledge of Allegiance at school that I had feelings that were different from those in sixth grade — I did not.

So, here I am today, in a new century, feeling hurt and exhausted, but with more knowledge, wisdom, and hope than ever before.  

I am confident that "with liberty and justice for all" keeps echoing in my mind during this challenging time because it is a reminder that no matter what, Americans continue to make changes to live up to this country's espoused values.  

I am confident that "with liberty and justice for all" keeps echoing in my mind during this challenging time because I can reflect on history and see the progress that this country has made over the past 401 years.  

Even during these dark days, when I feel exhausted from continuing to fight a system that was designed to exclude so many and my heart aches for so many people who have lost their lives, I believe in the butterfly effect. That a small event can create a much bigger impact — like the proverbial butterfly flapping its wings that stirs the wind into a tornado. 

My story about the names of the elementary and middle school I attended comes full circle in January 2018. The Hampton City Schools School Board voted to change the name of Jefferson Davis Middle School to Cesar Tarrant Middle School — taking the name of my elementary school that closed in 2015. To me, that “small event” of renaming a public school that students have to attend is a demonstration of "with liberty and justice for all."

So many other people have seemingly already said everything that needs to be said for this country to live up to its espoused values. Right now, my hope is that everyone will leverage the butterfly effect by voting, advocating, talking about the history and legacy of race in the United States of America, and doing what you can from where you are, so that effort will ripple through families, communities, and organizations, creating significant changes in how people think, act, and work together.

After centuries of eerily similar stories about inhumanity, inequality, and injustice towards black people in the United States of America, let's work together to ensure that "with liberty and justice for all" includes everyone and recreate the systems that are causing grief today so they do not continue to produce the pain and loss that our country has endured for so many years.