REMEMBERING CONGRESSMAN JOHN ROBERT LEWIS
February 21, 1940 – July 17, 2020
When I moved to Atlanta 10 years ago, I embarked on an editorial journey that catapulted me into a completely new world. Atlanta – an urban metropolis filled with up and coming hopefuls: actors, musicians, producers, writers. The list goes on. As such, my work often put me in the company of many of these artists at various events. Many have gone on to become quite famous. It was an exciting time for me.
Atlanta was also the current home for one of the foremost leaders in the fight for civil rights, Congressman John Robert Lewis. I had the very high honor of meeting Congressman Lewis at an event here in Atlanta. This man. This courageous, towering civil rights icon. I was standing right next to him. He was gracious, warm and very generous with his time. I asked and he agreed to sit down with a me for an interview for the publication I was writing for at the time. A few days later, Congressman Lewis thoughtfully told me the story of his humble beginnings and his subsequent historic fight, side by side with Dr. King, Andrew Young, C.T. Vivian, and so many others, for basic equal human rights for black people in this country.
I am deeply saddened today as I learned of the Congressman’s passing. I will forever cherish and remember his kind and his gentle spirit during our conversation. I was and still am honored to have sat in his presence. Our world was better because he was in it. Our lives were improved because of his fight. He was brave and tenacious and he never gave up. Thank you, Congressman John Lewis. You fought the good fight. Rest easy, sir.
Click below to read my conversation with the Congressman:
Congressman John Lewis asked that his final words and thoughts be published by the NY Times on the day of his funeral.
John Lewis: Together, You Can Redeem the Soul of Our Nation
NY Times July 30, 2020
“Though I am gone, I urge you to answer the highest calling of your heart and stand up for what you truly believe.”
While my time here has now come to an end, I want you to know that in the last days and hours of my life you inspired me. You filled me with hope about the next chapter of the great American story when you used your power to make a difference in our society. Millions of people motivated simply by human compassion laid down the burdens of division. Around the country and the world you set aside race, class, age, language and nationality to demand respect for human dignity.
That is why I had to visit Black Lives Matter Plaza in Washington, though I was admitted to the hospital the following day. I just had to see and feel it for myself that, after many years of silent witness, the truth is still marching on.
Emmett Till was my George Floyd. He was my Rayshard Brooks, Sandra Bland and Breonna Taylor. He was 14 when he was killed, and I was only 15 years old at the time. I will never ever forget the moment when it became so clear that he could easily have been me. In those days, fear constrained us like an imaginary prison, and troubling thoughts of potential brutality committed for no understandable reason were the bars.
Though I was surrounded by two loving parents, plenty of brothers, sisters and cousins, their love could not protect me from the unholy oppression waiting just outside that family circle. Unchecked, unrestrained violence and government-sanctioned terror had the power to turn a simple stroll to the store for some Skittles or an innocent morning jog down a lonesome country road into a nightmare. If we are to survive as one unified nation, we must discover what so readily takes root in our hearts that could rob Mother Emanuel Church in South Carolina of her brightest and best, shoot unwitting concertgoers in Las Vegas and choke to death the hopes and dreams of a gifted violinist like Elijah McClain.
Like so many young people today, I was searching for a way out, or some might say a way in, and then I heard the voice of Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. on an old radio. He was talking about the philosophy and discipline of nonviolence. He said we are all complicit when we tolerate injustice. He said it is not enough to say it will get better by and by. He said each of us has a moral obligation to stand up, speak up and speak out. When you see something that is not right, you must say something. You must do something. Democracy is not a state. It is an act, and each generation must do its part to help build what we called the Beloved Community, a nation and world society at peace with itself.
Ordinary people with extraordinary vision can redeem the soul of America by getting in what I call good trouble, necessary trouble. Voting and participating in the democratic process are key. The vote is the most powerful nonviolent change agent you have in a democratic society. You must use it because it is not guaranteed.
You can lose it.
You must also study and learn the lessons of history because humanity has been involved in this soul-wrenching, existential struggle for a very long time. People on every continent have stood in your shoes, though decades and centuries before you. The truth does not change, and that is why the answers worked out long ago can help you find solutions to the challenges of our time. Continue to build union between movements stretching across the globe because we must put away our willingness to profit from the exploitation of others.
Though I may not be here with you, I urge you to answer the highest calling of your heart and stand up for what you truly believe. In my life I have done all I can to demonstrate that the way of peace, the way of love and nonviolence is the more excellent way. Now it is your turn to let freedom ring.
When historians pick up their pens to write the story of the 21st century, let them say that it was your generation who laid down the heavy burdens of hate at last and that peace finally triumphed over violence, aggression and war. So I say to you, walk with the wind, brothers and sisters, and let the spirit of peace and the power of everlasting love be your guide.