It is Presidents’ Day, and the morning light ripples across the city, brushing the flags with a quiet insistence that we remember why this day exists: to honor the ideals that have carried a nation through fire and triumph. I close my eyes and imagine the men who shaped this country — George Washington, standing resolute amid the smoke of battlefields, understanding that leadership is a covenant, not a crown; Thomas Jefferson, pen in hand, dreaming of liberty as a living, breathing promise; Abraham Lincoln, facing a fractured nation, choosing unity over division, principle over politics. They were flawed, human, yet their legacy was measured not in spectacle or self-interest, but in service, in integrity, and in the enduring voice of the people. Power was temporary, they knew, but legacy endures.
This is hope. Hope is the recognition that leadership is measured in integrity, empathy, and courage. Hope is the understanding that those entrusted with power are responsible not for spectacle, but for service. History teaches us that ideals endure when they are defended and celebrated, when education and culture are preserved, and when voices once silenced are amplified.
Barack Obama brought that hope into vivid reality. He embodied the virtues of Washington, Jefferson, and Lincoln while modernizing them for our time. Leadership, under Obama, meant lifting voices rather than silencing them. He celebrated diversity, inclusion, and the arts. He safeguarded education and nurtured creativity. He protected the stories of Black Americans — Harriet Tubman, Frederick Douglass, Madam C.J. Walker, Langston Hughes — ensuring that truth was taught, remembered, and honored. Even under relentless scrutiny — a tan suit, a single vacation, the smallest missteps amplified — he remained measured, principled, and accountable. Integrity was never optional. Hope was not a slogan; it was a lived ethic.
And then comes the shadow: the administration. Hopelessness is made manifest here. Policies cut arts funding, music and theater programs collapse, and educational initiatives that foster creativity, critical thinking, and historical literacy are gutted. During Black History Month, the stakes are painfully clear: textbooks are whitewashed, the achievements of Black Americans risk being diminished or erased. Leadership once measured in courage, accountability, and service has become spectacle. Accountability is optional. Truth is negotiable. Authority persists, yet the moral compass wobbles dangerously. Casinos crumble under debt while public trust is ignored. Lawsuits, investigations, scandals — none displace the administration’s hold on power. Where one leader inspired hope, this administration breeds hopelessness.
Yet even in this shadow, hope is not lost. History reminds us that power is never absolute. George Washington tore off the iron cloak of tyranny. Harriet Tubman carved paths of freedom through darkness. Frederick Douglass lifted a voice that could not be silenced. Barack Obama proved that courage, principle, and integrity endure even when authority falters. We — citizens, artists, educators, storytellers — are the stewards of history. We can act to preserve the arts, protect schools, and ensure that Black history, in all its complexity and brilliance, is taught and celebrated. Reclaimed hope is not waiting for leaders to embody it; it is embodied by us.
Presidents’ Day, especially during Black History Month, reminds us that leadership is not the office; it is a covenant with the people. Hope is not a slogan; it is a responsibility, and the arc of history bends only toward integrity if we insist upon it. From hope, to hopeless, to reclaimed hope — the choice is ours. The legacy is ours. The story we write now will define who we are for generations to come.
By Jarvus Ricardo Hester
