The recently completed Artemis II mission marked the first time since December 1972 that humans flew to the moon.  The history-making journey not only set a record for the farthest distance humans traveled in space, but it also marked the first time a Black astronaut, Victor Glover, Jr., took part in a moon mission. ​

In 1961, President John F. Kennedy gave NASA a push - choose qualified African American candidates for the astronaut trainee program. A strong proponent of space travel, Kennedy knew that the program would most likely stay white if not pushed. Prodded by the administration, NASA chose Ed Dwight Jr. as the first Black  trainee. 

Unsurprisingly, Dwight was not selected to move on into the elite astronaut program. His selection into the training program, however, garnered national attention and he became not only a symbol of progress, but also a role model for younger generations of aspiring Black astronauts. 

At the time of Dwight's selection, Huntsville, Alabama, the location of NASA's headquarters, was segregated. Black people still couldn't use "white" bathrooms or drinking fountains. So it was no surprise that the first Black trainee didn't make it into the program. It took more than 20 years before a Black astronaut finally went to space. 

NASA astronaut Group 8, formed in 1978, was the first to include women and minorities. Five years later, in August 1983, Guion S. Bluford, Jr., became the first Black astronaut to travel into space. 

Mae Jemison was the first Black woman in space in 1992, and Bernard Harris, Jr. became the first Black astronaut to perform a space walk in 1993. And although, Victor Glover's name is widely known now because of  his latest achievement, he was also the first Black astronaut to do an extended stay on the International Space Station. 

The Artemis II mission was a unifying moment in a country with rare moments of unity of late. It was also a defining moment for not only Black Americans, but a lesson in what we can achieve if we all work together.

Resources:
Victor Glover, Jr.: NASA Astronaut & U.S. Navy Captain official NASA page​
Smithsonian's National Museum of African American History & Culture: African American Achievement at NASA 

Jesse Jackson, who died on February 17, 2026, left behind a legacy of firsts.  A civil rights leader who broke boundaries and forced change, he ran for president of the United States twice. He didn't get the nomination either time, but when the photo of Jackson with tears running down his face after Barack Obama was first elected became public, it became an iconic symbol of how much that moment meant to Jackson and those for whom he'd fought. 

Jackson was a flawed human being. So are we. But perhaps his greatest legacy is that throughout his life, he insisted that America meant everyone, not a select few.  He set the tone for what it means to be American throughout his life and taught us how to incorporate those ideals into a political ideology that put social justice at the forefront.

Again, our country is in a struggle with what it means to be American. As a nation of immigrants, most of us are appalled by what's happening right now. Jesse Jackson is gone, but we need to stand up and continue fighting for the marginalized, the disadvantaged, and all of the people in our country who are part of this quilt we call America.

Thank you for your service, Rev. Jesse Jackson. May you rest in peace. 

Resources:
Robert Reich: What you can do now
The ACLU: How to fight back on abuses of power
The RPC: The Rainbow PUSH Coalition: The international human and civil rights organization founded by Rev. Jesse L. Jackson, Sr. RPC seeks to empower people through the effective use of grassroots advocacy, issue orientation, and connections between the greater community and the disenfranchised.

The murder of Renee Nicole Good by an ICE officer in Minneapolis sent shockwaves around the world.

Murdered just a few blocks from where George Floyd breathed his last breath crying for his mother in 2020, Good was a young white woman, a mother, a wife, and an activist who was appalled by what was happening in her community.

In what has essentially become a government militia, US Immigrations and Customs Enforcement (ICE) agents use violent and aggressive tactics. Kidnappings, beatings, violence and cruelty are the norm. There is no apparent oversight.

Large numbers of ICE agents descended on Minneapolis at the direction of the current regime, terrorizing local immigrant communities, and causing chaos. 

Renee Good was, along with hundreds of other people in Minneapolis, exercising her constitutional right to peacefully protest. For that, she was murdered by ICE agent Jonathan Ross. Ross has not been charged with a crime. In fact, he is under the protection of the government despite the massive numbers of videos proving she was shot without provocation as she attempted to drive away. 

Over and over again, I heard white Americans talk about how unsafe they felt now. If an officer can murder a white woman and get away with it, then everyone's at risk. That's true.

The very people who think they are safe in a fascist regime, which is where the US is headed if no one in power stands against it, is that even those who think they are safe are not. If you are deemed a threat or expendable, you become a target no matter what color your skin.

 "Now you know how we feel. Every single day." 

Black people in the US live with this fear every day. It's nothing new to them. It is new to white Americans, though. And, maybe, just maybe, this is where white America stands up.

According to the Police Violence Report for 2025, Black people were more likely to be killed by police, and more likely to be unarmed and less likely to be threatening someone when killed. In addition, the report says, "Police disproportionately kill Black people, year after year."

Black leaders immediately condemned the murder of Renee Nicole Good.  Black Lives Matter Minnesota founders came together and demanded accountability. They know what the fight for justice entails. George Floyd's murderer was found guilty, and is serving time for it. But, that is not always the case. Or even usually the case. 

The Police Violence Report states that, "Each year, fewer than 3% of killings by police result in officers being charged with a crime" and that "Most unarmed people killed by police were people of color."

Black people have lived with the fear that many white Americans now feel every day of their lives. 

If there was ever a time to pull together for change, it is now. 

Note from Kristine: Alex Pretti was murdered by border patrol officers after I wrote the above. He was an ICU nurse at a VA hospital. He was 37 years old. 

Resources:
Black Lives Matter Minneapolis leaders call for justice for Renee Good
Police Violence Report: Statistical database of police killings including demographics and circumstances 

Guest post by Kristine Collins Schwartzman

On December 7, 1941, Mess Attendant Doris "Dorie" Miller, stationed in Pearl Harbor aboard the USS West Virginia, was taking care of the laundry. 

As a Black man in the Navy, his job, as was the job of any Black man in the Navy at the time, was to "serve" the white officers in support roles, handling the cleaning, laundry and kitchen duties. He received no weapons or combat training. He'd never shot a gun.

But, as the first torpedoes hit the ship and chaos erupted, Miller moved the ship's fatally injured captain off the ship's bridge and into shelter. A white officer ordered him to find ammo so he could use one of two nearby anti-aircraft guns. Miller did so, but he also loaded the second anti-aircraft gun and began firing at enemy aircraft alongside the white officer. He and the officer fired until they ran out of ammo.

Miller then concentrated on getting the wounded to safety. Finally, he and the survivors were forced to abandon ship as it sank into the ocean. Doris Miller, a Black sailor subjugated to a supporting role, saved the lives of many that day. 

No official recognition of Doris Miller's bravery came until months later, when the Pittsburgh Courier newspaper broke the story, identifying Black Messmen Doris Miller as a hero. And then the internal debates began. 

Should the U.S. Navy give the same accolades to a Black sailor they would routinely have given a white one? The story was out. There wasn't much else the military could do.

In May 1942, Miller received the Navy Cross from Commander in Chief of the Pacific Fleet and Pacific Ocean Areas, Admiral Chester W. Nimitz. Miller was the first Black sailor to receive the honor. 

The Navy used Miller's image for recruitment posters and recalled Miller to the U.S. to make a war bond tour. His speeches inspired the recruitment of new sailors, particularly within Black communities. 

Doris Miller returned to active duty on the USS Liscome Bay, and on November 24, 1942, a torpedo hit the ship, and Miller was presumed dead. His body was never found. He was 24 years old. 

Miller left behind a legacy that went well beyond his short life. Before the Navy's recognition of his heroism, Black soldiers were not allowed to become officers. After Miller's death, the Navy began a training program for Black officers. The first were commissioned in March 1944.

The Navy remained segregated, but Miller's heroism and subsequent recognition was the first step toward equality that began with the initiation of the Black officers program, followed by the civil rights movement of the 50s and 60s and finally, the desegregation of the military. 

Miller began life as a sharecropper's son in Waco, Texas, in 1919. But, his courage in the face of hardship and bigotry, is a lesson for us all.  

“Doris Miller stood for everything that is good about our nation, and his story continues to be remembered and repeated wherever our people continue the watch today.” -- Former Acting Secretary of the Navy Thomas B. Modly

Sources:
Letters from an American, Heather Cox Richardson, December 6, 2025
The Unforeseen Legacy of Doris Miller

Mr. Rogers and Officer Clemmons soaking their feet together in the kiddie pool on a hot day is as familiar as it gets. That remarkable scene came at a critical time in the nation's history. Mr. Roger's Neighborhood showed children that kindness, getting along, and tolerance made the world a better place. 

Much has been written about Fred Rogers, that pivotal moment and his legacy, but the Black man behind Officer Clemmons takes center stage in his memoir, "Officer Clemmons: More Than a Song," by François S. Clemmons. 

Clemmons is an actor, singer, writer and teacher who became director of his church's choir when he was just 10 years old. He began by singing spirituals from pre-Civil War days, handed down to him by his mother. He went to college and earned music and fine arts degrees from Oberlin and Carnegie Mellon. He sang opera at the Metropolitan in Cleveland. And, of course, he appeared in a recurring role as Officer Clemmons in Mister Rogers' Neighborhood from 1968 to 1993. 

If it sounds like the perfect life, Clemmons' memoir blows that idea out of the water. Growing up a Black man was difficult enough. Growing up a gay Black man was even harder. 

A chance meeting with Fred Rogers at a Pittsburgh church opened the door. The two hit it off and Rogers offered Clemmons the recurring part of Officer in the Neighborhood. A Black man playing a cop brought up all kinds of conflicting emotions for Clemmons. But Rogers made an impression and, over time, their relationship grew into a long-term friendship. 

Did Fred Rogers know about Clemmons' sexuality? He did. It did not stop him from featuring Officer Clemmons or forming a friendship. It did make him offer the conventional advice of the times, though. "Get married. Have a family." Clemmons did marry. Not surprisingly, the marriage didn't last. 

As Nicholas Cannariato of NPR says in his review of Clemmons' memoir, "... the show wasn't Clemmons' story — this memoir is. In the book, he doesn't ask you to be his neighbor, but rather just to hear his story: One of a man of profound strength and talent who stood up, sang out, and, after great struggle, was heard."

The Big Lie
Guest post by Kristine Schwartzman

After the Civil War, part of the Reconstruction plan included giving formerly enslaved Black Americans land, land owned by the very people who enslaved them. Intended to give freed Black people a start on building their lives, the plan died right along with Abraham Lincoln. 

In this groundbreaking historical investigation, Reveal tracks the lives of 1,250 freed people who were given land, only to have white supremacist Andrew Johnson, who became president after Lincoln’s death, pave the way for former enslavers and landowners, to get the land back. And, how they succeeded!

So, why bring this up now? Because the consequences still resound today. Reparations given, and then taken away - turned once hopeful lives into further toil and poverty that passed down through generations. Those families still pay the price of being kidnapped from their homes, and turned into property. This is not the “past.” It is now.

National Youth Poet Laureate Amanda Gorman and world-renowned cellist Jan Vogler collaborate on a unique performance of Gorman’s poem, “What We Carry,” set to Vogler’s performance of "Suite for Violoncello No. 1 in G Major, BWV 1007: I. Prélude." Amanda Gorman’s latest book, “Call Us What We Carry,” is available now. Jan Vogler’s album, “Bach: The Cello Suites” is available for streaming here:  https://sonyclassical.lnk.to/VoglerBachCelloSuites.

View the performance from Stephen Colbert's Late Show, here:

Experiencing A Picture Book of Martin Luther King, Jr. With Children
Guest post by D.A. Smith

Reviewing a children’s book can sometimes present challenges beyond the scope of reflecting on the images and sometimes rhyming words used to entertain and teach our youngest members of society. There are well known childhood favorites, whimsical fantasies, fairy tales, sweet bedtime stories and endearing characters to choose from, and then there are books that conjure more silence than laughter.
​
For me and my children, few words were needed to express the thoughts and emotions that came from reading David A. Adler’s A Picture Book of Martin Luther King, Jr., illustrated by Robert Casilla. 

​It’s not that the book isn’t beautiful, it is. The writing was not too complicated, it was clear, and the story was easy to understand even for… a child. And maybe that in itself is the reason so few words came. We got it. A boy, a faithful boy, grew into a man who changed the course of history through bold acts of strength and love, and he died at the hands of someone who was guided by fear, anger and dare I say, hate. 

When my youngest looked up at me after the story and said, “Wait. So, the boys' parents didn’t want them to play with Martin because of his skin color?” I could only answer, “Yes. That’s what I understand.” to which my eldest said “I am so glad we don’t live like that anymore.” To her I said “Well, it’s because of men like Martin Luther King, Jr. that we don’t” She then got up and went to her room, presumably to think while she worked on a friendship bracelet. 

What I kept to myself the morning we read Adler’s book is a truth as simple and as old as recorded history can confirm. Human hearts are messy. Thinking of other people as different as we are, whether because of skin color, religious affiliations, political allegiances, languages or even economic standing is a fool's game. What we hold in common is far more profound, and that is something Martin Luther King Jr. understood. Love is the answer. 

Historically, as we review some of our nation's beginning footsteps, we often forget some of the major players who contributed so very much to the building of our nation. 

Recently, I heard President Biden, a descendant of Irish immigrants, comment during his historic visit to Ireland on the ways that Irish immigrants significantly contributed to the fabric of our nation. 

In a previous post, Riding the Rails: From the Underground Railroad to the Transcontinental Railroad, we talked about the profound influence migrant and immigrant workers had. They were not welcomed with open arms, but often enslaved, derided, and greeted with violence. 

 From Riding the Rails:

"The year is 1863... as many as 15,000 Chinese immigrants do the dangerous, backbreaking work of blazing a path across the US to make the Transcontinental Railroad a reality. As they dynamite their way west, thousands die.

In other parts of the country, hundreds of thousands, indeed millions of enslaved people bend over under the scorching sun, toil in the vast fields of cotton, rice and tobacco, to build the very economic backbone of the United States."

Today, immigrants play a powerful role in the nation's economy. The Center on Budget and Policy Priorities states that "In fact, immigrants contribute to the U.S. economy in many ways. They work at high rates and make up more than a third of the workforce in some industries. Their geographic mobility helps local economies respond to worker shortages, smoothing out bumps that could otherwise weaken the economy. Immigrant workers help support the aging native-born population, increasing the number of workers as compared to retirees and bolstering the Social Security and Medicare trust funds. And children born to immigrant families are upwardly mobile, promising future benefits not only to their families, but to the U.S. economy overall."

Irish, Black, Asian, Native, European - we all descended from immigrants. It's who we are. 

"Give me your tired, your poor,
Your huddled masses yearning to breathe free,
The wretched refuse of your teeming shore.
Send these, the homeless, tempest-tost to me,
I lift my lamp beside the golden door!"