In the summer of 1983, at the age of 19, l enlisted in the U.S. Army Reserves. In many ways, I was young for my age-naive and inexperienced. On the morning of my departure to Fort Sill, Oklahoma, Mr. Douglas, a respected elder in my community, summoned me to his front porch to share words of wisdom and guidance. I was about to embark on a monumental transition into a world where I would face challenges and threats I had been shielded from within the safety of my community.

Perhaps he recognized my youthful ignorance, or maybe he was simply fulfilling his role as a community sage. Either way, in what I recall as no more than a five-minute conversation, he admonished me to be honest, to look people in the eye, and to always handle my business. His words culminated in a singular, powerful reminder: He said "Stay woke, young brother. Stay woke!"

Although this was a familiar expression to me, I didn't fully grasp its relevance or application at the time. For Mr. Douglas—a child during World War Il who later migrated from the Jim Crow South-"staying woke" was a survival strategy. It was a call for vigilance in a world fraught with danger for Black people. Having lived through the Great Depression, an era of severe economic hardship that disproportionately affected African Americans, he developed a deep understanding of resilience and community. These experiences informed his worldview and gave weight to his urgent reminder for me to remain aware and grounded. In essence, he was telling me to come home safe, that I am valued, and that I am worthy.

Today, as an artist, I reclaim "woke" from its politicized distortions to restore its essence as an expression of love, awareness, solidarity, and truth.