Black people didn’t see Powell as typical GOP
Since my Oct. 20 column on Colin Powell, several colleagues have sent me links to articles examining his life and legacy.
I couldn’t help but notice a recurring theme, that is, Powell’s supposed complex legacy.
Several writers, the majority of which are African American, seem to be convinced that many within the Black community did not view Powell as a leader.
I’m not sure what the writers meant by “many.” It is true that African American Republicans are often looked at skeptically by their own people.
It is also true that any time a person of African descent experiences a breakthrough in an industry or profession where most Blacks have historically encountered a glass ceiling, that person is often met with more than a few raised eyebrows.
However, the idea that such sentiment was in any way widespread among African Americans as it relates to Powell warrants reexamination.
I remember my father, a Navy man and Korean War veteran, being especially proud upon hearing that Powell had been appointed chairman of the Joint Chiefs of Staff. That was all he and his cronies could talk about. It was the topic of conversation at academic conferences, among servicemen and women across branches, as well as at Black barber shops.
The level of suspicion that Black Republicans typically encounter was not something to which Powell was subjected.
It is possible that such sentiment may have existed among a generation of Blacks that were too young to fully appreciate the fact that Powell’s success was made possible by the likes of Generals Benjamin O. Davis Sr., Benjamin O. Davis Jr. and Roscoe Robinson Jr., as well as the struggles waged during the modern civil rights movement that ultimately opened avenues that for many years were closed to Blacks.
Interestingly, these same writers fail to acknowledge that had Powell run for president, it is likely that the decades-long hold that the Democrats had on the Black vote would have come to an end in November 1996.
Republican or not, I would argue that there were few African American Democrats who would have voted for Bill Clinton and risked missing out on a potentially history-making night.
And for those who believe that perhaps Powell did not do anything to help people who look like him, they should ask the countless numbers of Black servicemen and women who sought his counsel and benefited from his recommendation.
Let’s also not forget about his work with young people.
In 1997, he and his wife Alma founded America’s Promise Alliance, a nonprofit organization dedicated to helping at-risk children, a disproportionately number of whom tend to be kids of color.
The nonprofit promises that: a) every young person will grow up with the help and guidance of caring adults, b) kids will enjoy healthy childhoods, c) kids will live in safe surroundings, d) youth will get a good and effective education, and e) children will be given opportunities to serve others.
What about Powell’s work in Africa? When George W. Bush was elected president, there were civil wars in Sierra Leone, Angola, the Congo and Liberia. When Powell resigned as secretary of state, there were peace agreements in each of those countries.
Many observers like to point to Powell’s 2003 speech, where he erroneously claimed that Saddam Hussein possessed weapons of mass destruction, as a permanent stain on his legacy. They forget that in 2004, Powell testified before the U.S. Foreign Relations Committee, making him the first U.S. official to declare genocide in the Sudanese region of Darfur. They also forget that he was instrumental in the peace agreement that put an end to the Sudan’s long-running civil war, thus laying the groundwork for South Sudanese independence.
A close look at Powell’s legacy reveals one that is not as complicated as some would have us believe.
Judson L. Jeffries is a professor of African American and African Studies at Ohio State University.