By HASAN DAVIS

As a young boy, I spent hours and hours trying to imagine myself as the hero, the explorer, and the adventurer of great stories. I found it very difficult because I was never introduced to examples of African Americans as courageous contributors to the great story of America.

In elementary school, I received my first Social Studies book and my teacher explained with great enthusiasm that this book contained the stories of people who made America great. I tore through the book searching chapter after chapter for a story that would finally affirm my place, my presence, in America's great story.

Chapter after chapter, I was disappointed as I finally reached a heading titled "American Slavery." Below the heading was an image of an African American man sitting slumped forward, seemingly broken, with layer upon layer of scars across his back. The caption simply read: The American Negro, Slave.

In that moment, the message to this nine-year-old mind was clear: I was not the hero, these were not my adventures, and my courage did not make America great. I was just the raw resource—blood, sweat, and tears extracted like coal to fuel the greatness of America.