Shelby Steele, the esteemed author and commentator, once observed that a Black conservative dissents from the narrative of victimhood when it's presented as the sole lens through which Black identity and political action are understood. This resonated deeply with me when I first encountered it, particularly as I embarked on my work on Chicago's South Side.

Raised in rural Tennessee, the concept of victimhood was foreign to my upbringing. My family embodied resilience, faith, and hard work. Their sense of self-worth stemmed from their labor and its fruits, a stark contrast to the victim mentality I later encountered, which attributed limitations to external forces.

As Black History Month unfolds, a shift seems palpable. The grip of victimhood appears to be loosening, a development I find both encouraging and prayer-worthy. In this spirit, I want to share a historical anecdote that exemplifies the strength of our ancestors and the detrimental impact of a victim mentality.

In 1870, shortly after the Civil War, three Black men—Robert Fox, his brother Samuel, and their employee Horace Pearce—boarded a trolley in Louisville, Kentucky, after church. Their fare paid, they took their seats. Had they been white, their journey would have been uneventful. However, a white passenger demanded they disembark, supported by the white driver.

Robert asserted their right to ride, a stance supported by over 300 Black onlookers who had gathered outside the church, prepared to witness the unfolding challenge to segregation. The driver summoned reinforcements, leading to a violent confrontation. The three men were assaulted and forcibly removed from the trolley.

Members of the Black community retaliated by throwing mud at the drivers, creating a diversion that allowed Robert, Samuel, and Horace to re-board the trolley. The crowd urged them to stand firm. Even the offer of a refund by the superintendent was refused.

This act of defiance brought the city's trolley system to a standstill, disrupting the prevailing social order. The arrival of police resulted in the men's arrest and subsequent fines for disorderly conduct. Undeterred, Robert pursued legal action in federal court, where Black testimony was admissible, and won. This victory emboldened the Black community to continue challenging segregation, though met with further resistance.

The escalating tensions culminated in the case of Carey Duncan, a Black teenager who refused to give up his seat. White agitators attempted to overturn the trolley while Duncan clung on, enduring threats and racial slurs. Fearing a riot, police arrested Duncan—but not the white aggressors. Finally, the mayor conceded, granting Black passengers unrestricted access to the trolleys.

This story reflects the legacy of resilience I inherited. These individuals lived in an era explicitly designed to enforce Black inferiority. They rejected this subjugation. It echoes Steele's sentiment about resisting victimhood and embracing the strength of character that has defined our journey. We have overcome too much to surrender to a narrative of powerlessness.