PRESIDENTS’ DAY, BLACK HISTORY MONTH, AND THE THINGS WE PRETEND NOT TO SEE

I announced well in advance that Dewayne Dunaway Ministries would be celebrating Black History Month.

And yet you ask, “Why is Bryan Dewayne suddenly on this Black thing?”

Suddenly?

My friend, I have always been on what you call “this Black thing.” Unless you have willfully ignored me, you already know that. What you label “the Black thing” or “enough about racism” — I do not accept those categories. This is not a trend. This is not a mood. This is not politics.

This is about serving God and honoring my brothers and sisters.

I have basically served three local churches in my life. I did good in all of them, and I did wrong in all of them. This is not pin-a-rose-on-Bryan time. I have had inconsistency and instability in areas. I have had growth to do. But one thing has been remarkably steady: Christ at the center — and racism treated as sin.

Years ago, I put out a church bulletin advertising a week of preaching with a picture of Martin Luther King. I caught heat for that. In the early 2000s, I preached before the federal holiday honoring Dr. King and received pushback from racists. To that church’s credit, leadership stood with me. I used his life as an illustration of loving your enemies, and some lighter-skinned saints grew uncomfortable. And a few got mad.

More recently, a deacon walked out of a service and hasn’t been back because I insisted on diversity. I didn’t go after him. He hasn’t been back and I’d get hot if he came back without repenting.

This is not new for me. I am sorry if you thought it was.

So back to Black History Month and Presidents’ Day.

To the heroes who built, led, endured, and excelled in a society that often resisted their very presence — I say thank you. Your composure under pressure strengthens my faith. Your excellence without permission reminds me that dignity can survive hostility.

And let me say plainly: I love everyone. That is not a slogan. That is conviction.

But love does not require blindness.

Presidents’ Day invites us to honor leadership. We speak the names with ceremonial calm:

George Washington.

Thomas Jefferson.

James Madison.

Andrew Jackson.

Ulysses Grant.

Woodrow Wilson.

Franklin Roosevelt.

Harry Truman.

Dwight Eisenhower.

John Kennedy.

Lyndon Johnson.

Richard Nixon.

Gerald Ford.

Jimmy Carter.

Ronald Reagan.

George H. W. Bush.

Bill Clinton.

George W. Bush.

We may debate them. We may critique them. But we do not erupt.

If I posted Millard Fillmore — silence.

William Howard Taft — calm.

Chester A. Arthur — no crisis.

But when I posted President Obama — after the current racist President depicted him and his lovely wife as apes— there was outrage. Oh, not over what the racist did. Over my picture of the Obamas. That was the outrage.

Outrage at a picture.

Now, I am told it is about abortion. I am told it is about policy. I am told it is about values.

And yet I struggle to remember the same theological intensity applied elsewhere.

If I post George Washington, does the comment section immediately shout “slaveholder”?

If Thomas Jefferson is praised, do we instantly center human bondage?

When Andrew Jackson is mentioned, do we erupt over forced removal and suffering?

Surely no one believes slavery is morally lighter than abortion.

Surely we are not prepared to argue that owning children of God, breaking families, and commodifying human beings is somehow a lesser evil.

And yet selective outrage is real. None of us are immune to it. We all need to be loving and kind, but also do some serious, hard self-examination.

James 2 calls partiality sin. Not preference — sin.

Genesis 1 declares that every human being bears the image of God. The unborn bear it. The enslaved bore it. Presidents bear it. The critics bear it.

If abortion disqualifies one man from any measured respect, then slaveholding must disqualify others with even greater severity.

If moral clarity is our standard, then it must be evenly applied.

But what often happens is this: some presidents are filtered through historical context and grace, while another is filtered through suspicion and permanent indictment.

That pattern deserves examination.

This is not about blind loyalty. Presidents are not messiahs. Policies are debatable. Leadership is accountable.

But disproportionate outrage reveals disproportionate discomfort.

Black History Month reminds us that Black advancement has often been followed by backlash. From Reconstruction to civil rights to boardrooms to the White House, progress has unsettled people before.

Presidents’ Day during Black History Month becomes a mirror.

Are we upset about policies — or unsettled by progress?

I refuse hatred. I refuse bitterness. I refuse revenge rhetoric.

But I also refuse selective memory.

If you can calmly admire slaveholders but combust at the sight of one modern president — something deeper is operating.

So I return to gratitude.

To those who achieved in spaces that resisted them — thank you.

To those who are uncomfortable — I still love you.

But let us at least be honest.

Many names pass without disturbance.

Many portraits hang without protest.

But only one president sparks outrage at the mere sight of his picture.

Hint: it’s the Black fellow.

BDD