My Family Escaped the 1921 Tulsa Race Massacre. Today, US Haitians Fear KKK in Charleroi.

In the early 20th century, my family, like many others in the Black community, faced a series of painful decisions. Living in Oklahoma, we experienced firsthand the pervasive threat of the Ku Klux Klan, an unrelenting wave of discrimination, and the limitations of segregated education. The fear for our safety and the desire for better opportunities pushed my family to leave Oklahoma and head for Colorado. Not long after my family made its escape, the infamous 1921 Tulsa Race Massacre erupted, devastating the prosperous Black community of Greenwood, often referred to as Black Wall Street. This tragedy deeply impacted those who stayed behind, and the massacre's fires burned through what was once a beacon of Black success and resilience.

Years later, my journey took me to the U.S. Air Force Academy in Colorado Springs, where my maternal grandfather and his ten siblings had played a key role in the founding of the city. Parks and monuments in Colorado Springs still stand in their honor, a testament to their enduring legacy. At the Academy, I had the privilege of learning from legendary figures like Col. Malham Wakin, whom we fondly called "Col. Ethics." His teachings have never left me. Wakin, who passed away this year at the age of 93, ingrained in me the importance of the USAF motto: "Integrity First, Service Before Self, and Excellence in All We Do." These were not just words to him or to us cadets, but guiding principles, reminding us that standing idly by when something is wrong is never an option.

Yesterday, as I read George Packer’s article in The Atlantic, I felt that familiar stirring of moral obligation.

In George Packer’s The Atlantic article, Charleroi, Pennsylvania—a small, struggling town in the Rust Belt—became a focal point of rising tension between long-time residents and a growing population of Haitian immigrants. The town, which had seen a significant influx of Haitians, experienced an unsettling incident when a flyer circulated, signed by the "Trinity White Knights of the Ku Klux Klan." The flyer, addressed to the "White Citizens of Charleroi," urged locals to "arm yourselves" and warned of so-called "immigrant brutality." This incitement of racial fear echoed the kind of violent rhetoric that has historically fueled the KKK's actions.

Following Trump's false and inflammatory remarks about Haitians at his rallies, tensions escalated. Trump painted an exaggerated and negative image of the Haitian community in Charleroi, claiming without evidence that the town had been overrun by "lawless gangs" and that the community was in decline due to the Haitian presence. This rhetoric emboldened some local residents, leading to a rise in hostile behavior towards the immigrants. One notable incident occurred when passing drivers began shouting at Haitians, declaring "Trump is coming!"—a clear sign that the president’s words had stirred up fear and antagonism.

In short, this piece highlighted the challenges faced by Haitian immigrants in Pennsylvania, communities that had come to rebuild after hardship, only to be demonized by leaders like Trump. Just as my great-aunt Kimbal Stroud’s 1939 article "Black Pride" was published in The Atlantic, highlighting the struggles of Black Americans, today the same themes of discrimination and rebuilding play out for the Haitian community.

What happened to the thriving Haitian community in places like Charleroi reminded me of the devastation in Tulsa over a century ago. The thriving businesses, the new breath of life they brought to their towns—only to face hateful rhetoric and threats from groups like the KKK. The parallels are eerie and painful, and it reminds me that while we have evolved as a society, we still have so far to go. The same values of integrity, service, and excellence that guided my time in the military must guide us now. History will not look kindly upon those who stood by while communities were denigrated once again.