I‘ve always been one of the few black children in any given space. In school, Cub Scouts, and summer camp, I was usually the “only one.” I told my wife that when I was at the Air Force Academy that was the first time, I had ever been around so many black folks.
My father was in the Air Force, and I thought I was supposed to follow in his footsteps. After looking up Air Force in the encyclopedia, my understanding as a 4th grader was I needed to go to the United States Air Force Academy (USAFA). I told my parents that’s where I wanted to go and so my journey began.
The Academy catalog I immediately ordered came with a letter stating I was too young to apply; however, when I entered high school, I could start the application process. I repeatedly looked at the pictures of the campus and the cadets who were there. Everyone knew I wanted to go there.
No one ever discouraged me.
Everything I did was geared towards getting me into the Academy. I attended private catholic high schools, where I took all the advanced classes. They were hard, and I struggled with math, French, and some of the science courses.
My math teacher told me if I did not work harder and master these math concepts, I would not get into the Academy. My French teacher wondered why I was signing up for her class as a senior, as I had not been one of her best students over the past two years. Because of her, French class at USAFA was a breeze.
I graduated from high school, with an adequate GPA, but my SAT score was sub-par. My mother found an Academy graduate who helped me prepare for the SAT. I took the SAT 8 times just to achieve the minimally acceptable score.
With all of that, I did not get accepted to the Academy, but I was offered the opportunity to attend the USAFA Prep School, which would make it possible for me to go to the Academy.
I completed the Prep School and was admitted to USAFA. After basic training, I received, what I remember, was an academic packet. It stated that based on my high school GPA, my entrance exam scores, and my SAT scores, the probability of me graduating from USAFA was extremely low. This was the first time I heard words of discouragement.
Four years later, I graduated in 1983 with a Bachelor of Science degree and a degree in International Affairs.
Many people thought I wouldn’t get into the Academy, but none of them ever told me I wouldn’t get in because I am black. I was told I needed to work harder and get my grades up. By 10th grade, my parents couldn’t help me with homework, but they made sure I did my homework, got the grades I needed and when necessary, they got tutoring for me.
They were the only black people who helped me and never let my dream die.
There was a time when I was in 10th grade, I had been less than honest with my father concerning a matter. He told me lying would not be tolerated when you get to USAFA.
Everyone always said, “when you get to USAFA.”
All of my high school educators were white. The Academy graduate who helped me with the SAT was white. My sports coaches, summer camp counselors, scout leaders, and swim teachers were white.
I needed people who wanted me to succeed and get into college. I needed teachers who were passionate and knowledgeable about the subjects they taught. I needed a school that was going to push me academically. I needed an environment where, even though I was one of 3 black students in my class, ethnicity, and skin color didn’t matter.
No one in the USAFA catalog looked like me but that did not prevent me from applying. Why should it?
There’s nothing wrong with not seeing anyone who looks like you in a school, or a restaurant. A certain honor goes with being the first. When I think of those who came before me, someone was always one of a few, the first, or the only. Why should I be exempt from that honor?
Why do you need to see someone who looks like you before you move forward? What’s wrong with being the first or the only? Why wait for someone else to achieve their dream before you go after yours? Why put off living your life until you see someone else living your life?
I saw the insincerity of needing to “see someone who looks like me,” when I had a conversation with a lady on social media. She hated Justice Clarence Thomas. I told her even if she disliked his conservative perspective, he’s still a great role model for her grandchild. She told me because of him, she would not recommend anyone she knew to aspire to become a Supreme Court Justice.
I thought it was important to see someone who looks like you.
Apparently, they have to think like you as well.
Stop being so weak, and afraid.
-Faith is the substance of things hoped for, the evidence of things not seen. Hebrews 11:1.
Wrong Speak is a free-expression platform that allows varying viewpoints. All views expressed in this article are the author's own.
What can one say? Your story is one of perseverance, support, compassion and a level of bravery through your personal commitment. Personally I respect you for telling your story of non-perfection and of knowing that as a community we need each other. Please keep writing.
It’s very difficult when you’re six years old and come to the USA in 1960 as a Cuban refugee. I was enrolled in the second grade at a Catholic school and knew very little English. Neither the teachers or the students spoke Spanish so I was really on my own to learn English.
My father was an airline pilot in Cuba and he was fluent in English. He was my teacher and we poured over English language books every day until late at night. I was proud of my hard work to learn to read and write English. The biggest lesson that I learned from my father was to never give up. You’re never a failure even when you make mistakes. You can only be a failure if you give up.
I hope that young people will be inspired by your story to keep working hard to follow their dreams.