Powell's Legacy is a Truism of the Black Military Experience

None of us live perfectly.

But, let me speak for myself. I recognize all too well my faults. And in today's "cancel culture," it is relatively easy for us to ignore the process of self-accountability. Let me say this differently, there is a bastardization of wokeism, "cancel culture," that I believe fundamentally demonstrates someone's lack of accountability and/or their inability to do deeper self-reflection.

In my view, we too often romanticize leaders and celebrities, and then when they disappoint us, we find it easier to cancel them than to simply see their humanity. Rather than chastising one part of someone's life and canceling them for the one moment when we disagree with them, we should look at the totality to recognize their evolution. If we are honest with ourselves, we would be hesitant to judge people for these moments in time because one look in the mirror would make us think twice.

Now, I am not trivializing decisions, which one might find destructive, that could cause death, or could be harmful, but what I am saying is that one decision or one moment in time should not tell the story of someone's entire life.

So it is with General Colin Powell.

The purpose of this essay is two-fold. First, the commentary that I have read or heard about Powell's life all seem to focus on the latter part of his career, particularly with one question hanging in the balance: Does his role in the Iraq and Afghanistan wars put a stain on his legacy?

This written look back is not a defense of his decisions as a leader or his legacy. For one, I did not know the man, but the truth is I doubt that those who are criticizing him (i.e., Donald J. Trump) knew him either.

However, this essay looks at how General Powell's career is endemic to the Black military experience in America and the broader struggle toward freedom, justice, and equality.

The personification of American exceptionalism.

Born in 1937 in Harlem, Colin Powell grew up during the New Deal in what my generation calls the "Boogie Down Bronx" (the home of hip hop and former US Attorney General Eric Holder).

For Powell, like many others, joining the military was a personal step toward opportunity. After two tours in Vietnam, earning a Bronze Star and Purple Heart, he rose to four-star general, served as the first Black Joint Chiefs of Staff, and the first Black Secretary of State.

After the 1991 Gulf War, Colin Powell became a household name.

Yet his career as a decorated military leader and America's top diplomat is as complex and storied as the role of African Americans since our feet hit the soil in America.

As the Joint Chiefs of Staff, Powell questioned the Bosnia conflict while also being at the center of the battle of Mogadishu.

By 1996, Powell was a potential candidate for the Republican Party's nomination for President of the United States.

But, after September 11, 2001, his role during the second Iraq War and the war in Afghanistan War as the nation's chief diplomat changed how people viewed him and his legacy. Not only was Powell the spokesperson for the United States to the world, but his purpose was to:

1. Sell the war as necessary.
2. To demonstrate that Iraq and Saddam Hussein were an imminent threat.
3. To convince us that our response would avenge the lives lost at ground zero in New York City.

The two prominent arguments regarding the criticism of Powell's legacy are that 1) Powell was used (some might say, puppeteer) by the Bush administration to marshal a war that unnecessarily destroyed the lives of millions of Iraqis, and 2) these wars failed the Powell Doctrine.

The criticism of General Powell's legacy was yet another reminder that no matter how great we are as a people (Black people, that is), it will never be enough no matter how hard we fight for this country.

To put it more colloquially, let me point you to Jay-Z's 2017 4:44 album. In a song titled, The Story of OJ, the Brooklyn-born rapper outlined this paradox neatly in a deft three-minute fifty-second piece of poetry where he keenly reminds us of how forever moored we are to our Blackness.

So, last week, as I listened to people on social media and read articles on my iPad about Colin Powell's legacy, it was a reminder that the criticism was a truism of the broader Black military experience.

Black people have consistently given their lives through military service for America - a commitment to fight for America's values and a "more perfect union," even though America has not returned that honor and commitment to Black people. It's an extreme contradiction.

In every major conflict that has defined this nation, from the death of Crispus Attucks in the American Revolution, Black men have sacrificed their lives to demonstrate the shared commitment to America's founding principles with the hope of earning basic human dignity. This essay explores three examples of these conflicts, not to minimize the others, but to show Black people's patriotism and courage wrapped in the star and stripes of their sacrifices defending this Republic.

1812 and Andrew Jackson

During the War of 1812, a group of Black Militia men ended up being the linchpin to the country's ultimate victory. There are two incongruous points to point out. The first is that the British promised freedom to the enslaved to fight against the Americans. Nonetheless, General Andrew Jackson, yes, Tennessee, slaveholding Andrew Jackson, devised a plan along with Louisiana's Governor, William C.C. Claiborne, at the Battle of New Orleans to allow a Black Militia to defend the port of New Orleans and the Mississippi River.

Claiborne used the Black Militia before to "put down" a slave revolt in 1811. The boys were bad, and Claiborne and Jackson knew it. The second somewhat ironic point is that Claiborne and Jackson understood that they had to enlist the help of the "inferior Negroes" and arm them with guns to beat the British. Go figure.

The "deal" Jackson made with the Black Militia was equal pay for equal work (sound familiar) and the same respect of any soldier at their rank. So the Black Battalion moved in, Jackson asked for two additional battalions of the Black militia to help reinforce his white soldiers. In the end, Jackson had 3,000 troops, of which 600 were Black, and they took on 8,000 British soldiers and won. About the promises that Jackson made to the Black troops? Yea, he rescinded it. After all, this was Andrew Jackson.

Brownsville and Teddy Roosevelt (1906)

Black men sacrificed their lives during the Civil War to preserve the Union.  But, in Brownsville, Texas, in 1906, the white community was apoplectic when a battalion of 167 troops arrived to replace a set of white troops. When the Black men arrived in Brownsville, the community looked for ways to alienate the troops. One night in August, gunfire broke out while the Black troops were in their barracks.  Local officials blamed the murder of a white man and the shooting of a police officer on the Black troops. During the shootout, the white commanders at Fort Brown believed all the Black troops were accounted for that night.

Once President Teddy Roosevelt received a telegram alerting him of the chaos in Brownsville, he immediately wanted to remove the troops to calm the angst in the community.  He summoned the most 'powerful' Negro in the country to the White House, Booker T. Washington. Understanding the nuances of the facts on the ground, Washington used his political clout to try to persuade the President to side with the Battalion's Commander, but to no avail. He did not convince President Roosevelt.  Teddy wanted the Black Battalion out of Brownsville.  And so it was, they discharged troops without honor.  Congress investigated the matter and upheld the action.  

Years later, though, the Brownsville became a stain on the US Army because, after John D. Weaver's book "The Brownsville Raid," the military conducted a new investigation in 1972  and reversed the order.  

TL:DR: They were framed.

The Great Wars: World War I and World War II

The Great Wars catalyzed change for both women and Black people in America. One of my favorite movies, A League of Their Own, the sports-comedy, gives us a brief look into how the war changed baseball by introducing the All-American Girls League. Likewise, WWI and WWII in the North ushered in the industrial age where Black families left the South in the Great Migration for more opportunity. During WWI, Black leadership and the community's mood committed to fighting alongside the US on the side of freedom.

During both wars, Black people showed a commitment to America's values through sacrificing lives and fighting under the American flag.

In many ways, this commitment is a contradiction because while Black people were technically free, they continued to face anti-Blackness from Black codes, Jim Crow, to physical violence.

When Black soldiers returned from war, they met the same animus and racist treatment as before.

The fact is this: no matter how bravely they fought or how other governments viewed their bravery, anti-Blackness continued.

Let me close with this when I hear the criticism of General Powell, particularly the hatred from white people about his legacy. What I hear is the very same anti-Blackness I know my ancestors witnessed when they returned from war or fought valiantly under the stars and stripes. General Powell witnessed this too after returning from Vietnam in Fort Benning, Georgia.

In his death, though, I cannot help but think - no matter how high he rose or how many accolades or accomplishments he achieved, he could not be unmoored from his Blackness and the anti-Black rhetoric that perpetuates our politics.