The Day I Met Congressman John Lewis, an American Superhero
I had the pleasure of meeting Congressman John Robert Lewis at the Ronald Reagan airport in Washington, DC, on September 8, 2013, when I was on government business as a professor. I remember taking the escalator to the lower level of the airport to walk to my baggage claim location. As everyone was hurrying to and fro, waiting for their bags and confirming they were at the correct location, one man stood out. He was dapper, short, well-dressed, and distinguished in a blue suit and tie. He waited patiently next to the luggage belt. He was grace personified. He was regal. I could tell this particular airport experience was familiar to him. He looked like a man who was comfortable in his skin. That’s what made me take a second look at him.
Given my fascination with Civil Rights history and having grown up in southeast Alabama less than an hour from Troy, the city where John Lewis was born, I knew who he was although others around us didn’t seem to be aware that they were in the presence of greatness. The man looked like John Lewis, but I must have been mistaken. He had no security around him, and no one was rushing up to speak to him. I observed him more closely, trying not to stare. I walked up to him slowly and respectfully, timidly asking if he was Representative Lewis. With that familiar deliberate Southern drawl, he turned to me and replied yes. My heart raced a little because I wanted to chat with him, but I was also slightly fearful that he would dismiss me given his status. As I walked closer to shake his hand, I was captivated with everything about him, especially his cologne, which I can smell to this day!
I told Representative Lewis that I grew up in southeast Alabama, and he perked up, ready to share his story of growing up in Troy and being a leader in the Civil Rights Movement. He spoke about cities close to that area and about his growing up on a farm. We chatted for a few more moments, and I asked if I could take a picture with him. As others retrieved their luggage, he posed with me. I thanked him, and he gave me a business card that I still have.
When John Lewis passed away at 80 years old on July 17, 2020, I grieved in ways I did when my father passed in 2017, one month shy of his 85th birthday. Although I didn’t know Representative Lewis personally, I realized that John Lewis's struggle with my father’s struggle. As young Black men growing up in Alabama, they both expected their country to treat every person as a human being per the contract that is the U.S. Constitution. They knew that America could do and could be better, and they demanded that it live up to the promises that it had made all its citizens. Something about that resonated with me, and I expected to see the fulfillment of that promise.
John Lewis was real and approachable. He was humorous and caring. He was passionate about justice. He loved people. He wasn’t just a celebrity, he was one of the biggest heroes I have ever met.
I never wanted to be a Civil Rights activist, but somehow along the way, I became that person who would speak up when no one else would. I would take the beatings when others walked away, knowing that scars could heal but bondage was permanent. Many can’t understand this mentality, but feel it to my bones.
I comprehend why John Lewis would risk his lifetime after time for people he didn’t know. He was prophetic because he saw me and others like me who needed him to be our intercessor and our conduit when Black and brown voices were not heard or respected in this nation. Without him, I wouldn’t be free. We need more folks like John Lewis to get in “good trouble” so at the end of our lives, we, too, can say that we made a mark on this nation that will never be erased.
