My grandfather was the first, and only, black man to own a small gas station in Elkton, Maryland. His business development strategy involved hiring a young white man from the community to play the role of “boss” while he worked in the gas station as “the mechanic.” My cousin was the first black judge in Wilmington, Delaware. His image was burned in effigy in the town square during the 1960s. And then there is cousin Grace, devoted mother, wife, and deaconess at the oldest Baptist church in the city. She rose through the ranks of the state correctional system to become one of the first senior level African American wardens in the state. I am proud of my family, and the many “firsts” they accomplished throughout their lives. Their stories are a part of my black history.