June 17th 2024.
Published on July 27, 2020
On a fateful day in September 1979, I, a 14-year-old Black American, was informed by my parents that a cross had been burned into the lawn of our only Black neighbors, the Andersons. This was the fifth incident of cross-burning on Long Island that summer, and it shook our predominantly white town of Port Jefferson.
I vividly remember the anger and hatred that swelled up inside me upon hearing this news. I wanted to take action against whoever had committed such a despicable act. But my parents, unlike many African American families at the time, did not react with anger or hate. Instead, my father, a social studies teacher, chose to maintain his dignity and go about his life as usual. He did not run or change his routines, and he even welcomed the cross-burner into our home as he had before.
My parents' response, though seemingly passive, was a critical lesson in my upbringing. They taught me not to hate, not to hide, and not to be a victim. They drew on Dr. Martin Luther King Jr.'s message that "hate cannot drive out hate; only love can do that." They also emphasized the importance of not being afraid and retreating from our lives, and not allowing ourselves to be defined by the hate of others.
Their message of love and resilience in the face of hate has stayed with me throughout my life. In the four decades since that incident, I have witnessed inequality and discrimination at many levels. I served in the military and went on to become a successful trial lawyer and chairman of an international law firm. My wife, also a West Point graduate, worked as a civil rights lawyer. However, recent events have caused me to reflect on my father's lessons and how I, as an African American business leader and father, should talk about hate and injustice with my own children.
As you can imagine, our dinner discussions have been spirited. My oldest son, who has been unfairly targeted by the police multiple times, is eager to join the front lines of the ongoing fight for civil rights. My daughter, on the other hand, remains positive about America's ability to heal itself and is deeply concerned about injustice. My other children are somewhere in between. It is a different world than the one I grew up in, yet it is not.
Looking back at that cross burned into my neighbor's lawn, I can see the role it played in shaping my sense of self and my commitment to working for change within the system. It is one of the reasons why I have spent the past 20 years teaching Bible studies to prisoners. I believe it is never too late to learn not to hate.
But despite the progress we have made, I also acknowledge the frustration and heartache that comes with witnessing the continued injustices against Black Americans, such as the deaths of Trayvon Martin, Eric Garner, Michael Brown, and most recently, Ahmaud Arbery and George Floyd. As a nation, we must come together to address these issues and make them a national teaching and learning moment.
Like my father, we must resist the urge to react with anger and instead, channel our energy into taking positive action. Only then can we truly learn not to hate.
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