I am Army born. I am
Army bred. When I die, I’ll be Army dead. My proud Army heritage extends as far
back as the U.S. Civil War, traceable to an ancestor named Augusta Reed who
served the Union Army as a Mule Skinner and Whiskey peddler. He is remembered as a bull-whip wielding, no nonsense
individual who was a shrewd and skilled survivor possessing the warmth and
charm of a rattlesnake. Ancestor Reed paved the way for my Grandfather figure,
Great Uncle Julius Frazier, who served in WWI and raised my father from his early
childhood. Numerous other family members served in WWII and Korea as well. My father cemented our heritage by becoming a career
solider – a paratrooper and Vietnam veteran with numerous deployments over a
period of almost 30 years. He handed the
baton to me, who spent my early adulthood pursuing a military career, including
some time spent at West Point, but who eventually found myself ministering to
soldiers and later ministering on a broader, global scale. My cousin Brian Vance has carried the baton
for the family since, honoring several traditions by serving as a Screaming
Eagle of the 101st Airborne Division and enduring multiple
deployments as a warrior in the Global War on Terror. While my vocational experience with the Army
was brief, my Army roots run deep and my way of thinking and my development as
a human being have been undeniably influenced by Army culture. For that reason,
I have strong convictions about the Army’s mission and way of life, including
the mission of and life at The United States Military Academy at West Point.
The United States
Military Academy at West Point has the premier honor of being the historically first
guardian of the American Ideal. West
Point is as old as America and stands as the foundation upon which America’s
military excellence and tradition has been built. Traditions of all sorts
abound at West Point. Some are known and well publicized, while others are less
known but still hold great sway over West Point’s ethos and culture. The three oldest traditions remaining in
place to this day are: “A cadet will not possess a mustache, horse or spouse.”
But it is not those traditions that have captured the nation’s attention this
week. It is the unofficial tradition of
taking pre-graduation group pictures that has come to the forefront, in
particular, a photo taken by a group of African American women who are members
of the West Point class of 2016. The picture is one of a series of photos taken
of the women, who retrofitted their uniforms to represent the uniforms of an
earlier generation of cadets – a practice that is on its own a longstanding West
Point tradition. A greater level of scrutiny than normal has arisen because of one
picture depicting the raising of fists by the women in that picture.
As of the writing of
this piece, I am not aware of any statements on behalf of the women that
clarifies the specific meaning they attach to the raised fist photograph. I am
aware of numerous interpretations of what the pose means. The considerations range from a belief that
the gesture is a representation of the women’s triumph over the assortment of
challenges West Point presents to all who enter its gates, to a belief that the
gesture is some type of expression of African-American identity. As of my writing, the exact meaning remains
in question. Nevertheless, the
speculation is plentiful and the responses have been swift on the few West
Point social media connections of which I am a part. As I consider my deep familial Army Heritage
and my specific experiences as a citizen of the United States and as an
American descendant of slaves, I have felt compelled to share a few observations
on the situation.
Challenge, adversity,
stress and pain are intimate companions for the West Point Cadet during their
life at the Academy. I repeat, these challenges are present for every cadet! From the moment a new cadet candidate faces “The
Cadet in the Red Sash” on Reception Day until graduation day, cadets are intentionally
subjected to an unrelenting stream of intentional testing that is meant to
prepare them to lead soldiers as commissioned officers in the United States
Army. Anyone who has spent even a day as
a cadet will have stories to tell of seemingly impossible situations that by
design forced them to marshal all of their character, courage and innermost
wherewithal to not only confront the situation, but to manage it successfully and
emerge triumphant. The standards are
high – especially high for college-aged people whose peers attend other
institutions that are not military service connected and are able to enjoy a
freedom of expression and leisure that are not generally a part of the Academy experience. This difficulties of Cadet life become even
more challenging when additional considerations shape one’s West Point
experience. While the Army as a whole
and West Point in particular are institutions that value and seek to embrace the
diversity that defines America, this has not always been the case and the
process of achieving diversity and equality has been complex and at times
painful.
Race has impacted
every aspect of my family’s Army history.
For the earliest soldiers in our family, being an African American meant
limited opportunities within a tightly prescribed area of possibilities. As years passed and the available
opportunities broadened, our family members embraced the possibilities and
excelled in fantastic ways, yet always with some racial challenges thrown into
the mix. By the time I arrived at West
Point as a Cadet, many others from my ethnic background had traveled the road I
was then treading. One experience highlights the complexities of race and Cadet
life during my West Point days.
While I was certainly
aware of the racial makeup of the academy, at least as much as my experience
allowed me to see, I became more deeply cognizant of the significance of my
presence at the Academy as a Black Cadet and the expectations that came along with
my Army background after an early conversation with my Tactical Officer - my
commander – after the completion of Cadet Basic Training and a few weeks into
my first academic semester. My TAC initially
began with standard questions about my well-being and observations about my
performance when he asked how I was getting along with my roommates – one Caucasian
southerner and the other a Latino. In
the midst of what I perceived to be a solid roommate experience, I responded
that all was well – at least as well as anyone could expect as a West Point
Plebe. The TAC seemed relatively happy to hear my report and added this
surprising commentary,
“That’s very good Mr.
Jackson, that’s what we had hoped.” I wondered, who the “We” was? He continued,
“I’m going to be direct with you Jackson.
You will NEVER have a black roommate during your career here at West
Point.” I thought to myself silently, “NEVER?” He seemed to hear my thoughts
and immediately said for emphasis, “NEVER.” I was stunned. I hadn’t really thought about the issue until
then. I had supposed that there weren’t enough of us to form many multiple “Black
Cadet” rooms and had never considered that there were very careful designs on
how Black Cadets were housed based on race.
Of course I wondered why. The TAC knew that as well, and answered before
I could ask. “Many of your classmates
have never had any personal, non-athletic contact with black people. Some have
had no interaction beyond incidental public contact of some sort, which means
they’ve had no meaningful contact with Blacks personally. We believe that we have to maximize their
exposure to Blacks in all the ways we can, as they will certainly be dealing
with Blacks as officers in the Army. As
we considered your file, we believe that based on your background, you can handle
such situations and encourage your White classmates. Some of your other Black classmates don’t
have your background, and more urgently need the presence of someone of like background
for encouragement, especially in the first couple of years. People like you are a treasure for us in this
regard and we’re glad you’re up to the challenge.” As I left his office tying to process what I
had just heard, an upperclassman in my company lit me up for a minor protocol
infraction and I realized I’d have to process my chat with TAC some other
time. Upon arriving in my room, my
roommates asked how the time went. I gave a standard answer, internally
muttering, “If you only knew…”
The Bible warns that “To
whom much is given, much is expected.”
This verse rings deeply true for every West Point Cadet, each one of whom
represents the absolute best of the nation’s youth, but it holds an extra
measure of significance for ethnic minorities and for women at the
Academy. My experience with the TAC
helped me to understand what I couldn’t have seen with the naked eye: The Army
and Academy had an extra measure of expectation of the minorities of the nation
who attended, to help the military to sort out their racial problems, while not
so much helping the minorities to sort out theirs. It was an ongoing “Jackie Robinson” type of
expectation, with the acceptance of the assignment largely assumed, not
offered. It meant that when I was called
the “N-word” as a Plebe out of ear-shot of others, I was on my own to process
it. It meant that whenever there were
racial overtones to sort out, I had to normally figure out the solutions without
help or support. But, I understood, that is what “Jackie Robinson” does and I
actually was up to that part of the expectation of me as a cadet.
When one is in the
midst of such an experience during a very formative time in one’s life, how
does one process the shaping events, positive and negative, that will leave an
imprint on one’s soul? Demonstrating racial pride in such an environment can be
tricky, and protesting racial mistreatment can seem totally off limits. While
at West Point, I experienced days that caused me a great deal of pride in my heritage
– both militarily and racially. I also
experienced other days that caused me significant racial discomfort and
personal reflection.
As I consider the
actions of the women in the picture that led to this discussion, I have forced
myself to take time to listen, read, consider and reflect rather than to shoot
from the hip only considering my own experiences. Thanks to the posting of West Point graduate MaryTobin, I have been able to take factors into consideration beyond my own
experience. While I share a racial perspective that I believe can be extremely
helpful in the situation, I am not a woman and I cannot experientially address
that viewpoint on the matter. A recent conversation
with my daughter Joana, who is approximately the age of these women, has also
given me a deeper perspective generationally and gender-wise that has helped me
to reevaluate my considerations on the issue.
As I reflect on the
situation these women are experiencing and consider my thoughts on the matter in
comparison to other West Pointers who share my ethnic heritage, I believe there
are distinctive points of view related to unique eras of the cadet experience.
I further believe that gender differences provide some other distinctives in
how this situation is viewed and solutions are being sought. In spite of these differences, I am convinced
that our commonalities must play a strong role in helping to speak into the
situation as well. As African Americans, we have inherited the history and
testimony of a people who have suffered but who have always demonstrated
herculean resilience and strength that have enabled us as a people to endure,
regroup and overcome!
Furthermore, we share
the unbreakable bond as members of the “Long Gray Line” that unites us “through
the years of centuries told” and calls us to hang together in the stormy times
of our journey. In engaging this journey, it is essential for
us to keep in mind General Douglas MacArthur’s all-time charge to all who
represent West Point. We must never forget the clarion call that will never
fade with time, circumstances or perspective: “Duty, Honor, Country. Those three hallowed
words reverently dictate what you can be, what you ought to be, what you must
be. They are you rallying points!” As cadets
and as officers the rallying cry of “Duty, Honor, Country” must continue to guide
how life is lived and how duty is done. This
cry is truly a rallying point. As we continue the conversation of these African
American, West Point women and the photograph that has opened the door for a broader
discussion, let us seek not to “win” an argument, but rather let us seek to win
the day with wisdom, understanding and care for these women and for our “Rockbound
Highland Home.” Our duty demands it. Our honor must guide it. Our country
desperately needs it.
USMA 2016
USMA 1882
