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Daddy would not have liked Colin Kaepernick. Had the San Francisco quarterback refused to stand for the national anthem in my father's presence, Daddy would have fixed him in a stare that could freeze the blood in your veins. Then, to no one in particular - but to everyone within earshot - he'd give the young man a two-sentence lesson in patriotic etiquette.

"You stand during the national anthem," he'd say, punctuating his words with fire. "People died for that flag."

As a child coming of age in New Orleans in the 1960s, I found my father's love of country utterly bewildering. His was the generation of men born free but shackled by bigotry. Yet every time he took my brothers and me to see the Saints play football at old Tulane Stadium, we all stood for the national anthem. We took off our caps, faced the flag and placed hands over hearts.

And Daddy sang.
O say can you see ...
He sang with a pride I could not comprehend, in a gorgeous tenor's voice that he didn't mind showing off. In a city that once denied him the simple dignity of being called Mister Verdun P. Woods Sr. In a land that would have his black countrymen fight on the front lines but sit in the back of the bus. He sang so that other people would hear.
What so proudly we hailed ...
My father was an insatiable learner with intelligence that his baby brother once told me bordered on genius. He and his uncles, brothers and nephews joined the military in the 1940s as young men. He went to Manila, Okinawa and Korea, trained as a medic, worked as a communications clerk, learned a bit of German and enough Japanese to make you believe he knew more. After he'd served his country for eight years, he took a job with the U.S. Postal Service, one of those limited career tracks that a racist America reserved for black men.

Daddy was not one for self-reflection. Feelings didn't flow from him; they escaped. So when he talked to me about his military years, the anger would burst from him like steam from a busted radiator. Any mention of the white commanding officer in Korea who treated him like trash and took credit for his work, and Daddy's hands would start shaking and he'd bite down on his tongue like a Maori warrior dancing a Haka.

We watched a documentary years after he retired about the architects of American democracy. I saw his eyes combust, and he shouted, to no one in particular, "Yes, and they built it on the backs of the black man!"

This man. This accountant, camera buff, would-be linguist, postal clerk, kite-maker, father of nine. This veteran. He would take us to the football game to see Peyton Manning's father play, and he would face the flag and sing with a devotion that belied the truth I knew.
And the rocket's red glare ...
His singing was loud and embarrassing to me, a child who would rather have gone unnoticed. And it only got worse whenever some guy two seats down or three rows below us would rise but keep his hands at his side, or his hat on his head, as the Tulane University marching band struck the opening chords.

"You know," Daddy would say, ostensibly to us but loud enough for the fan to hear, "you should take your HAT OFF when they play the national anthem."

I can't imagine that he would sympathize with Kaepernick, who's struggling to reclaim lost magic on the field and courting infamy on the bench. I doubt Daddy would buy the quarterback's refusal to "show pride in a flag for a country that oppresses black people and people of color."

But for me, the words roused an old ambivalence. I'm a father of five. A grandfather of four. I live unrestrained by the immoral laws that constrained my elders. My dreams are brimming with hopes of unlimited tomorrows for my children, and theirs. And I'm fully aware that America teems still with the racial injustices against which my father railed and Colin Kaepernick now stands - or sits.

I can't condemn him. I won't. Love of country can't be accurately measured by whether someone sits or stands or slouches or sings. It's not that simple. If I could ask my father, I believe he'd say that he sang because he earned that right. I believe he sang to affirm a citizenship denied him through housing discrimination, police brutality, economic inequities and educational apartheid. Does that make him more or less like Kaepernick?

Love of country can't be accurately measured by whether someone sits or stands or slouches or sings.

And what of me? When Daddy died on Halloween morning 2005, two months after Hurricane Katrina, he left me a strange inheritance: I'm incapable of going to a sporting event without noticing who leaves their hat on during the anthem and who doesn't cover their heart. I still get anxious every time I see someone hold the American flag too low, even though I now know that, unlike what my father always said, you don't have to burn the flag if it touches the ground. These things still mean something to me, but mostly because they meant everything to him.

At his burial, a military honor guard met my father's flag-draped casket. Daddy would have geeked out. He would have made sure we noticed how, in a slow-motion ritual of glorious precision, the soldiers sharpened every crease and smoothed every fold, tucking in the last bit of the flag so that it formed a perfect triangle and showed no red. He would have savored the sad, tender spectacle of a lone soldier standing in the distance between crumbling New Orleans crypts, blowing taps into the autumn air.

I took it all in, and savored it on his behalf.

That is my relationship to the national anthem. It means what it does to me because it meant what it did to him. Yes, I stand even before the first strains of the song begin, but what rises in my chest is less my own expression of patriotism and more an artifact of the pride my father was forced to wrench from the stingy grip of his country. I have nothing to prove of my fealty to America, least of all by how I treat a song written by someone who believed black people are born inferior.

But I hold no grudge against Francis Scott Key. I'd be a tired, miserable man if I litigated every act of slaveholders in a place called Washington, D.C. The truth is, I like the song. I like the way its lyrics call for emotion deep inside me. I like the flush of blood that rushes through my brain with its crescendo.

Who am I to decide what it should mean to Colin Kaepernick?

Who could possibly know what it meant to the people Daddy chided in the old Tulane Stadium?

And what could you truly make of me just a week ago, when that beautiful music started and I rose to my feet at a Washington Nationals baseball game. If what you saw was an unmitigated display of patriotism, you were wrong. My relationship to my flawed homeland is too complicated for that.

All you would know for sure is that I stood. I faced the flag, hand over heart.

And I sang.
O say does that star-spangled banner yet wave
O'er the land of the free and the home of the brave?

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My Father Stood For The Anthem, For The Same Reason That Colin Kaepernick Sits

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Daddy would not have liked Colin Kaepernick. Had the San Francisco quarterback refused to stand for the national anthem in my father's presence, Daddy would have fixed him in a stare that could freeze the blood in your veins.

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AUDIE CORNISH, HOST:

The decision by 49ers quarterback Colin Kaepernick to sit during the national anthem has opened many conversations about patriotism, tradition and America's history of racism. Youth Radio's Riley Lockett talked to young people in the Bay Area grappling with their own decisions about whether to stand for the anthem.

RILEY LOCKETT, BYLINE: Seventeen-year-old Garrison Pennington is a hard-core 49ers fan and a self-identified patriot, so his current feelings about quarterback Colin Kaepernick are complicated.

GARRISON PENNINGTON: So I actually found out from my dad, who came from the football perspective of - what is he doing? I don't want to see that happening. This is football. This isn't politics. Stay out of it. And when my dad talked to me about it, at first, I completely agreed with him.

LOCKETT: Garrison says he's the kind of guy who always stands for the flag. But then he noticed how Kaepernick's actions were making people actually talk about important topics, like racism and what it means to be patriotic.

PENNINGTON: You have to have someone who's willing to stand up or, in this case, sit down to bring attention to those issues.

DOMINIC ALTIERI: All right, what's the First Amendment? What does it say?

UNIDENTIFIED CHILD: Pretty much, Congress shall make no law respecting an establishment of...

LOCKETT: Eighth-grade history teacher Dominic Altieri is also talking about Kaepernick's actions, but in terms of the Bill of Rights.

ALTIERI: This is made for middle school. Yeah, this one is - this is tailor-made for a middle school topic.

LOCKETT: Altieri teaches at Synergy School in San Francisco. For today's discussion, he splits his class into groups with different assignments. Gabrielle Manion, Kaia Levy-Kanenaga and Tomi Osawa are researching the reasons people are mad about Kaepernick sitting out.

GABRIELLE MANION: It's good to, like, put your hand over your heart and stand up, but I don't get why you would have - why do you have to do that at, like, like, a national football game or something?

KAIA LEVY-KANENAGA: Yeah, it makes sense at the Olympics, but we're all in America when we play football.

TOMI OSAWA: And also, a lot of people are mad because they're saying, like, he's disrespecting the military because, you know, they're fighting for his right for freedom of speech.

KAIA: Really just mixed right now. Like, it's just - it doesn't make sense, but it was a good point. Like, what he was saying was good.

LOCKETT: Gabrielle is black. And if she were in Kapernick's shoes...

GABRIELLE: I think I would stand. But, I mean, like, if it gets worse, I don't know.

LOCKETT: I get why she's conflicted. I'm black. And growing up, my mom always made sure I knew the history of black people in America. She made me watch documentaries about slavery, civil rights, police brutality. You get the picture. I'm 15 now. And up to this point, I never really thought about the connection between racism and the national anthem or the Pledge of Allegiance that much. Is it really that big a deal? It is to Amanda Augustin. She's 17 and says she often stands for the flag, only because people get mad when she doesn't. But she won't put her hand on her heart.

AMANDA AUGUSTIN: Or sing or recite the pledge, simply because I don't believe it's true. I believe if I were to say that I live in a country and pledge my allegiance to a country that has liberty and justice for all, then I would be lying.

LOCKETT: Though that doesn't mean she's giving up on her country.

AUGUSTIN: I do believe that, like, it should be love it or fix it. If country is not, you know, doing for you as it should, it doesn't mean you should abandon it. That's not patriotic to me. It's fix it.

LOCKETT: Back in the classroom, the eighth graders are wrapping up their lesson. As they head to lunch, their conversation keeps going about patriotism, racism and police violence. These kids might seem kind of young for such a heavy conversation, but Altieri says, given the world we live in, it's necessary.

ALTIERI: There's sadness that we still have to deal with this, but there's no sadness in someone waking up or someone realizing that things aren't the way they should be.

LOCKETT: The 49ers' first regular-season game is Monday. And with lots of young people watching, Kaepernick says he plans to sit again for the national anthem. For NPR News, I'm Riley Lockett.

CORNISH: And that story was produced by Youth Radio.

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Young People Grapple With Whether To Follow Colin Kaepernick's Lead

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AUDIE CORNISH, HOST: The decision by 49ers quarterback Colin Kaepernick to sit during the national anthem has opened many conversations about patriotism, tradition and America's history of racism. Youth Radio's Riley Lockett talked to young people in the Bay Area grappling with their own decisions about whether to stand for the anthem.

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Colin Kaepernick - former San Francisco 49ers quarterback and creator of the now-infamous kneeling stunt heard 'round the world - announced that he is filing a grievance against the NFL for collusion.

Kaepernick alleges that the NFL colluded against him in keeping him from playing football due to his involvement in the national anthem protests that have driven down TV ratings. If the league is guilty of deceiving the public as to why Kaepernick is out of a job, they may not be the only guilty party.

How did Kaepernick deceive the American people?

A review of Kaepernick's fairly-wealthy upbringing reveals that the league's most controversial figure has some explaining to do regarding his positioning as the NFL's empathizer-in-chief on inner-city living.

While Kaepernick could certainly sympathize with inner-city youth of today, to say he can relate is a bit of stretch.

Let us count the ways.

Kaepernick's own birthplace is the French-named Fond du Lac, Wisconsin, which was named #32 on Money Magazine's "Best Places to Live" in America in 2017.

That's a far cry from the south side of Chicago.

So is the town in which he spent most of his childhood.

The former 49ers star grew up in the central California farming town of Turlock, a well-to-do suburb of Fresno, where the average home price is nearly $300,000 in a state in which the average home price is $400,000 and in many towns, much higher into the multi-millions.

According to the sports website Jock Bio, while attending high school the young Kaepernick attended several football camps in just one summer to perfect his skills. It's worth noting that football camp costs can run into the thousands, even for just one week. If Kaepernick attended camps for multiple weeks over the period of a summer as a teenager, the price tag would easily have been several thousands of dollars.

Not exactly a deprived upbringing.

This is not to discount Kaepernick's experience as an adopted child of mixed race - an experience that no doubt had a profound and deeply personal impact that few can understand; however, his well-to-do lifestyle cuts against the argument that he can relate to the underprivileged, and it merits discussion.

Hypocritical liberals often suggest that a person such as billionaire Education Secretary Betsy DeVos can't possibly be genuine in her crusade to help underprivileged children nor relate to their plight because she herself is a wealthy individual. In that same regard, the argument for Kaepernick then must be the along the same lines.

Liberals can't have it both ways.

Akin to DeVos, Kaepernick lives in some pretty posh duds himself these days.

Last year, Kaepernick placed his Silicon Valley home on the market for $2.9 million. He recently purchased a $3.1 million condominium in Tribeca. At 1,733 square feet, he paid nearly $2,000 per square foot, which means that Kaepernick paid more for one square foot of space than most single mothers on the south side of Chicago can afford for their monthly rent.

Now, no one should begrudge the NFL star for his wealth -- he has a right to sign any contract he wants in a private industry and to spend what he wants on homes, cars, and more. After all, this is America.

However, the portrait of his life fails to reveal an upbringing that is anywhere close to the plight he claims to feel for inner-city kids today.

Nothing could be more deceptive than for a wealthy man who hails from a lifetime of comfortable means to feign that he understands the plight of inner-city kids and worse, to stir up strife among his nation in doing so.

For that, Kaepernick just might be guilty of the very "collusion" and deception he accuses the NFL of perpetrating upon him.
Jennifer Kerns (@JenKernsUSA) is a contributor to the Washington Examiner's Beltway Confidential blog. A GOP communications strategist, she served as spokeswoman for the California Republican Party, recalls in Colorado, and California's Prop. 8. Previously, she served as a writer for the 2016 U.S. presidential debates for FOX News. If you would like to write an op-ed for the Washington Examiner, please read our guidelines on submissions here.

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Colin Kaepernick is a deceitful hypocrite, and his defenders have double-standards

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Colin Kaepernick - former San Francisco 49ers quarterback and creator of the now-infamous kneeling stunt heard 'round the world - announced that he is filing a grievance against the NFL for collusion. Kaepernick alleges that the NFL colluded against him in keeping him from playing football due to his involvement in the national anthem protests that have driven down TV ratings.

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He's been vilified by millions and locked out of the NFL-all because he took a knee to protest police brutality. But Colin Kaepernick's determined stand puts him in rare company in sports history: Muhammad Ali, Jackie Robinson-athletes who risked everything to make a difference.

In 2013, Colin Kaepernick was on the cover of this magazine because he was one of the best football players in the world. In 2017, Colin Kaepernick is on GQ's cover once again-but this time it is because he isn't playing football. And it's not because he's hurt, or because he's broken any rules, or because he's not good enough. Approximately 90 men are currently employed as quarterbacks in the NFL, as either starters or reserves, and Colin Kaepernick is better-indisputably, undeniably, flat-out better-than at least 70 of them. He is still, to this day, one of the most gifted quarterbacks on earth. And yet he has been locked out of the game he loves-blackballed-because of one simple gesture: He knelt during the playing of our national anthem. And he did it for a clear reason, one that has been lost in the yearlong storm that followed. He did it to protest systemic oppression and, more specifically, as he said repeatedly at the time, police brutality toward black people.

When we began discussing this GQ cover with Colin earlier this fall, he told us the reason he wanted to participate is that he wants to reclaim the narrative of his protest, which has been hijacked by a president eager to make this moment about himself. But Colin also made it clear to us that he intended to remain silent. As his public identity has begun to shift from football star to embattled activist, he has grown wise to the power of his silence. It has helped his story go around the world. It has even provoked the ire and ill temper of Donald Trump. Why talk now, when your detractors will only twist your words and use them against you? Why speak now, when silence has done so much?

At the same time, Colin is all too aware that silence creates a vacuum, and that if it doesn't get filled somehow, someone else will fill it for him. In our many conversations with Colin about this project, we discussed the history of athletes and civil rights, and the indelible moments it called to mind, and we decided that we'd use photography-the power of imagery and iconography-to do the talking.

By the end of the 1960s, Muhammad Ali's stand against the Vietnam War-he'd marched in Harlem with the Nation of Islam after he was drafted and refused to serve-resulted in him being locked out of his sport for three years, at the peak of his talent, much as Colin is now. He continued to train throughout that period, waiting for his chance to return to boxing. He was known for jogging in the streets, and kids would chase him-the People's Champ, boosted in his darkest days by the joy of his truest fans. That's why we decided to photograph Colin in public, in Harlem, among the men, women, and children he is fighting for. To connect him to a crusade that stretches back decades. And because Colin has spent a year as a man without a team, we worked with him to assemble a new one: ten of his closest confidants-artists, activists, academics, and one legend of the civil rights movement-who shared with GQ what Colin's protest means to them, and what we all should do next.

Ava DuVernay

Filmmaker, Selma, 13th, and 2018's A Wrinkle in Time

I see what he's done as art. I believe that art is seeing the world that doesn't exist. A lot of people excel at creativity-making TV, movies, painting, writing books-but you can be an artist in your own life. Civil rights activists are artists. Athletes are artists. People who imagine something that is not there. I think some folks see his protests, his resistance, as not his work. Not intentional. Not strategic. Not as progressive action. As if this was just a moment that he got caught up in. This was work. This is work that he's doing.

The last time I saw him was the night after Trump called him out at the Alabama rally. It was a really dynamic weekend. I had dinner with him and Nessa [Kaepernick's partner]. To be able to sit with that brother on this particular day-on the day between two historic cultural moments that swirled around him-was shape-shifting for me. Being able to observe that and witness his stillness and wisdom-I'm just really honored to know him. He's sitting there and I'm sitting there and I'm like, "Look at this brother-he's doing better than any of us would've done." A lot better. With a lot more elegance.

Carmen Perez

Activist, executive director of The Gathering for Justice, which addresses mass incarceration and child incarceration

What I always tell people is, I could teach you about the law, I could teach you about the criminal-justice system-but I can't teach you how to have heart. We don't need a movement full of experts. We need people who care deeply to stand up and offer what they have, because there's a role for everyone. You make music? Make some for the movement. You cook? Organizers need to be fed. You teach self-defense or yoga? Help people heal. You're an athlete? Use your platform to raise awareness. It's not about everyone trying to become the next Martin Luther King Jr., because he had clergymen and journalists and artists like Harry Belafonte. It's about how we connect to our neighbor and offer our skill set. As Mr. Belafonte has said: Don't pay me back-pay it back to the cause.

I want people to understand that even if incarceration doesn't personally impact you, or police brutality doesn't personally impact you, you can still be involved. How can we show these mothers who are suffering that we love them and we care about them? I often ask: Can we see our liberation bound to one another's? I'm a proud Mexican-American and Chicana who deeply believes that black lives matter and that once black people are free, then my people will be free.

Colin and I met years ago. I am-I was-a big 49ers fan. I met him during his breakout season. I actually went to the first game he really played in, against the Jets. I just happened to be at that game. It hit another level for me the second I learned he was taking a knee. And it wasn't just that-it was when I saw the shit he was saying in the interviews when they pressed him about it. His answers were just so clear and potent. Like, right on point. And he wasn't backing down. And he wasn't afraid. He was just being honest. And it didn't seem like he was looking for attention. It caught me off guard because, you know, nothing personally against him, I just didn't know when I met him that the person with the biggest balls in sports would be him.

You're talking about a guy in his athletic prime, who's lived his whole life dreaming about playing football at a level that millions of kids dream to get to. And in his first big season, he takes his team to within five yards of winning a Super Bowl. But then, at some point in time, he becomes conscious about what's happening in the world. And suddenly something that he's been doing blindly for his whole life-standing for the national anthem-now feels uncomfortable. Why? Because now it feels phony! It feels like, Man, how can I stand for this thing when this country is not holding itself true to the principles it says it stands for? I feel like we're lying. And look what happens to him. Had he not done that, this guy would be making millions of dollars right now. Period, point blank. And more important than the money, he was living his dream. He sacrificed his dream.

Tamika Mallory

National co-chair for Women's March; activist on issues related to women's rights, health care, anti-violence, and ethical police conduct

My position is that people should not be watching football right now, while we're in the middle of this, because we don't need to add to their ratings. We need to ensure that we're not on social media talking about the game as if Colin Kaepernick is not still up for deliberation. Now, I have some family members who have said to me that they don't agree. But if everybody agreed about everything, our society wouldn't be as diverse. And I think that where an opinion turns into the oppression of another human being, or a group of people, that's where we must draw the line. Some people want to argue, "But the national anthem may not be a place for this because this is about all of us as Americans, the American dream, and American freedom." And then I have to give them the history of the third verse that Francis Scott Key wrote, which refers directly to us as slaves, and being unable to escape the wrath of slave owners. When I bring that to them, they begin to understand.

Ameer Hasan Loggins

Writer and U.C. Berkeley academic, lecturer, onetime Bay Area hip-hop icon

Colin is just a learned person. If you really sit and talk to him, he is a seeker of knowledge. One time I just happened to mention, "Yo, I teach class at Berkeley," and he was like, "I'm gonna come through." I was like, "Yeah, all right." And he did. He did so in a way that showed me a lot about his character. He didn't just come through like, "I'm Colin Kaepernick." He had his little notebook, he had his pencil, he was taking notes, he was participating, he was reading the texts. He was on time to every class, making that trip from San Jose.

His protest has exposed the truth about a lot of people in the NFL, even while he hasn't said anything. I think people underestimate the tactical brilliance involved in that. I understand why people want him to speak out. I understand that. I think they should take the time to understand why he hasn't.

I think that Colin's convictions provide him with comfort. A comfort that some of us are uncomfortable with, because we're mad for him. We're upset to see somebody who gives a damn being treated so poorly.

It's a problem that we've decided the conversation leans on "Does Colin want to be an activist, or does he want to be an athlete?" As if the two cannot happen simultaneously. You can care about people and play sports. Athletes do it all the time. The problem is that his particular activism was toward the cause of blackness. That's what he's being ostracized for. You see players talk all the time about their nonprofit organizations, their donation to this foundation they work with. Nobody's talking about them not being able to juggle their football careers and being helpful to the community. It's only with him that it's questioned. The irony now is that the NFL is trying to make him voiceless because he made himself a voice for the voiceless. Which is one of the reasons I'll die on that sword to defend what he has done. Because he did it for the people.

Safety for the San Francisco 49ers, Kaepernick's former teammate, and the first NFL player to join him in kneeling during the anthem

My goal this year has been to get the narrative back on track. We started having communications with the NFL, and they said they're going to help us make progress on these issues. But the next step is to get Colin back in the NFL. Because he's the one that started this. I think we're finally getting where me and Colin envision this going. Now it's time for him to get back in the league.

These issues are real, and people know they're real. But some will do anything to distract from that, to change the narrative, and it's gotten Colin blackballed from the NFL.

The Bible talks very explicitly in Proverbs about being the voice of the voiceless and speaking up for the vulnerable. Another verse is: "Faith without works is dead." I guess selfishly I'm trying to get to heaven.

Christopher Petrella

Writer and scholar at Bates College

In my view, the most pernicious element of white backlash against Colin's protest has been the way in which the narrative has been co-opted and re-framed so that taking a knee is now somehow synonymous with disrespecting the flag, with a lack of patriotism. The American flag is not a neutral ideology-it represents something very, very specific to most folk. When someone comes along and tries to point out the history, for instance, of the national anthem, or the emergence of the American flag and its various iterations over time, and asks very difficult questions of "an adolescent country"-that's a James Baldwin phrase-it becomes uncomfortable. You may recall Ruth Bader Ginsburg's comments last year, when Colin started his protest. Someone who's known as a fairly liberal, left-leaning, or moderate, or whatever terms you wanna use, Supreme Court justice called his protest "dumb and disrespectful." Which is fascinating, because many folks have pointed out that politicians on the right, obviously those in the White House, have been very critical of these protests. But often it's bipartisan.

I think it was Howard Thurman, a modern civil rights activist and educator, who said, "Don't ask what the world needs. Ask what makes you come alive." What the world needs is for people to come alive. In a lot of ways, Colin operates through that unspoken philosophy. My hope is that Colin's protest will help mainstream white America to come alive to the deep injustices of our time and of our nation's history. That's the beginning of what the world needs.

Linda Sarsour

Activist, co-organizer of the Women's March on Washington, former executive director of the Arab American Association of New York

An activist is anyone who cares about something and has a talent that they're willing to put toward it. Every single one of us needs to prioritize: What is it that touches your heart the most? Is it the killing of unarmed black people? Is it domestic violence against women? Is it immigration and protecting undocumented people?

I always tell Colin: "You are an American hero. You may not feel like a hero right now, but one day, people will realize the sacrifices that you made for so many others." There might even be a day when we'll be walking down Colin Kaepernick Boulevard and people will remember what Colin Kaepernick did, just like we remember Muhammad Ali. And I truly believe that in my heart.
Nationally syndicated radio host/TV personality, American Muslim who works in communities for social justice, and Kaepernick's partner of nearly three years
Colin has always been helping people, he has always been involved, because he has empathy. Empathy was a reason why he was adopted: His parents-two of their children had passed away from heart defects. It's why he helped so many young children with heart defects get proper care-he's been doing that for years. I'm very fortunate that I have Colin next to me. It's everything. We love each other, we care for each other, and we have to remind each other that, hey, we're doing our part, we're trying to make a difference.

As long as you're educated and you have the facts, get into those discussions about race. Have those conversations. I don't care how intense they get. You need to let Uncle Whoever and Auntie Whoever, who might feel a certain way, who might be racist or prejudiced, know that it's not right and it's not okay. Their beliefs are never based on facts. It's always opinions or lies or misinformation, and that is where you can make a difference-by helping them get educated. Just know that it's probably going to be a fight at first, and be okay with that. You know, your Thanksgiving might not be that good this year. Your Christmas might not be the best because we just had an argument. But you know what? It's okay, it's all right-that's what families do, anyway. And why would you want a family member out there sounding ignorant? So it's fine, we're going to fight over the eggnog, and that's just what it is. We may not see eye to eye, but I did my part, sharing the truth, because that's all you can do. Be just in an unjust room.

Harry Belafonte

Artist, activist, legend

In my 90th year of life, to see people like Colin Kaepernick having gotten the message and carrying the cause forward is the greatest reward I could ask for. Colin is a remarkable young man. The fact that he spoke out on police brutality against young black men-I thought it was absolutely admirable. I'm prepared to do anything it takes and whatever steps I can to support him if this insanity continues.

And this is not just confined to black athletes-any person with a high profile has to consider their responsibility to help keep the nation honorable and honest. After all the courageous things that have been done by so many courageous people, it's a cop-out to not speak up. Trump has betrayed our nation. Taking a shot at him is worthy of all of us. Not being "political" is not a solution. Any young person who takes that position would have to ask Muhammad Ali and Jackie Robinson and so many of us if we had anything at stake. I know how someone who is young can get the feeling that this is the worst things have been. I see how someone could think that. But it's going to be okay. Even in the Trump era, America is going to be okay.
Interviews conducted by Ashley Fetters, Christopher Gayomali, Mark Anthony Green, Lauren Larson, Ira Madison III, Kevin Nguyen, Luisa Rollenhagen, Bijan Stephen, and Jay Willis. This story originally appeared in the December 2017 issue
Colin Kaepernick Visits Harlem for his GQ Men of the Year Moment

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He's been vilified by millions and locked out of the NFL-all because he took a knee to protest police brutality. But Colin Kaepernick's determined stand puts him in rare company in sports history: Muhammad Ali, Jackie Robinson-athletes who risked everything to make a difference.

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RALEIGH, N.C. - On a 200-mile drive from the state capital to Kings Mountain, a tiny town where the Charlotte suburbs fade into the Appalachian foothills, state Rep. Chuck McGrady told House Speaker Tim Moore, one of the most powerful Republicans in North Carolina, not to do it.

"We shouldn't go down this road," McGrady told Moore just over a year ago, as he gave his fellow legislator a lift home from a session while Moore's car was in the shop. The warning came days after Charlotte's City Council passed an ordinance that allowed transgender people to use the bathroom of their choosing. At the time, Moore was "trying to figure out what they might do" in response, McGrady said. "I told him, 'Let's take our time with this.'"

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But Moore, who declined to be interviewed for this story, didn't take McGrady's advice. In a one-day special session last March, the Republican-controlled supermajority passed House Bill 2, effectively banning legal protections for gay, lesbian, bisexual and transgender people and requiring North Carolinians to use the bathroom assigned by their birth certificate in public places.

The backlash was swift, redefining North Carolina in the year that has elapsed since the bill's passage, as critics and lawsuits have taken aim at what opponents view as an overly broad law that mandates discrimination against the LGBT community. The NBA relocated its All-Star game, while a long list of big businesses, like Bank of America, Wells Fargo and Dow Chemical, demanded a repeal. Forbes estimated the state had suffered $630 million in losses as of last fall. And the repercussions show little signs of easing after a year marred by boycotts, partisan rancor and finger-pointing- nearly two-thirds of North Carolina voters say they would rather eliminate HB2's negative economic impact over enforcing the law.

In November, voters had their say on HB2-and the message they sent was ... not at all clear. They booted Republican Gov. Pat McCrory, who had vigorously defended HB2, out of office and elected Attorney General Roy Cooper, a Democrat who ran on repealing it, by a razor-thin margin. They also reelected Republican Lt. Gov. Dan Forest, who wrapped himself in HB2 and won more votes statewide than Cooper or even Donald Trump, who carried the state easily. Republicans also maintained their supermajority in the General Assembly.

All of which helps explain why, despite the polls, despite Cooper's commitment to tossing out the law, despite the Republican leadership's willingness to cut a deal, despite the unrelenting pressure from the business community, HB2 is still there. And after months of abandoned compromises to address the law, it's become harder to distinguish good-faith efforts from political theater. Walking along the cinder block hallways of the state legislative building in recent days, I found the HB2 mess hangs over legislators like a cloud.

"Frustration, depression, anxiety, exasperation-it's all that and more," said state Rep. Ken Goodman, a moderate Democrat from eastern North Carolina, sighing heavily after each noun. "It has sucked all the air out of that building for a year, and we're all suffocating."

There is a ticking clock, as legislators continue to grapple over HB2 compromises. The NCAA, which already punished in-state basketball powerhouses Duke and UNC-Chapel Hill by moving March Madness games out of the state this year, will announce site selections for the next six years of championship games in April. We've come so far as to find UNC coach Roy Williams lamenting Duke's defeat last week, citing the loss of a hometown crowd as an explanation. But the NCAA games won't be coming back to North Carolina-a state where college basketball is practically its own religion-without a repeal.

And in much of North Carolina's rural counties-areas that don't play host to NCAA games, but watch them on TV-HB2 is still popular. These communities are bastions of social conservatism, where HB2 is seen as a necessary shield to protect the safety and privacy of bathrooms.

Repeal proposals are still flying back and forth-or alternatives like adding "religious freedom" legislation-but prospects for unwinding the law remain dim, as distrust runs rampant. And the issue is further complicated by the statewide ambitions of Moore and President Pro Tem Phil Berger, as confirmed by half a dozen GOP sources familiar with these conversations. A glossy, 24-inch by 11-inch portrait of Berger, a mailer touting his leadership, showed up in Republican households in recent weeks.

"The politics of political ambition are driving the internal politics of the legislative caucuses," one Republican strategist in the state said of Moore and Berger. The source added that the two GOP leaders are squeezed on both sides, as they don't want to invite "possible primary challengers from the right" and must not lose their donors in the business community, who want HB2 gone.

As for Cooper, whose political office has been stripped of some its power by the General Assembly, he comes across as almost helpless. "They all know HB2 has been bad for North Carolina, but the politics of it is ... " the governor said in an interview, letting his words trail off into a brief silence. "They're choosing that over fixing the public policy problem that they know exists because of their inner war with their caucus."

***

McGrady, a sleepy-eyed moderate Republican who served as the Sierra Club's national president, knows a thing or two about endangered species.

"I just never expected to be one," he said, leaning back on a couch in his legislative office. "But I'm pretty comfortable in my skin after all this time," even though the General Assembly around him has grown increasingly partisan, making him a rarity in North Carolina politics.

Like many in his position, McGrady never wanted to get wrapped up in social issues-he'd rather talk about fixing the state's coal ash problem. But he didn't attend the March special session (he was on a cruise) and he's led negotiations on repealing HB2. Last month, he filed a bill to do that, and HB2's critics consider it one of the most promising last-ditch efforts. But the bill has stalled over Cooper's objections to a referendum provision, which would give opponents to a city's local nondiscrimination ordinance 90 days to initiate a ballot referendum to repeal it. Democrats object on principle-they say it's unacceptable to put civil rights on the ballot.

Without the referendum, Cooper said he thinks McGrady's bill would stand a good chance. "We'd lose a number of Democrats, but I do think we could get that passed," Cooper said. "I think it goes too far in many ways, but we're trying hard to get HB2 repealed and I think that Democrats are willing to swallow compromises in order to make this happen."

Republicans dispute that Cooper has acquiesced. Instead, they accuse him of sabotaging the negotiations for his own political gain. Berger, who also declined to be interviewed for this story, wrote in a blog post that the "flood of national media attention" around HB2 in the past year meant that the "campaign cash poured into Cooper's political machine."

Even McGrady, who's inclined toward compromise, is growing exasperated with the governor. Last month, he posted on Facebook that Cooper's "senior staff told me a week ago that his political advisors strongly urged him not to compromise at all because the political issue would help Democrats in the 2018 election." A Democratic official familiar with the conversation strongly rejected McGrady's characterization of the conversation, adding that the staffer was referencing political blowback to introducing a religious freedom bill in the state, not HB2.

"[Cooper] said he wants compromise, but actions speak louder than words, and I just haven't seen the action piece here," McGrady said.

***

Democratic state Sen. Joel Ford is frustrated, too. Ford, a suspenders-wearing Charlotte health care executive with a booming voice, moved into his legislative office two months ago, but he's still got nearly a dozen pictures waiting to be hung, leaning precariously along his wall.

"That's life in the minority party," he said with a baritone laugh. But it's the unfinished business of HB2 that wears on him more than the clutter. And in particular, he's fuming over the December special session that he calls "a missed opportunity."

In the final weeks of 2016, Berger, Cooper and Moore met in a cramped hotel conference room, intent on quietly working out a deal that might lead to the repeal of HB2 and mitigate the damage done to the state's image and economy. Cooper said he received assurances from Berger and Moore that if he could "talk the Charlotte City Council into repealing" their ordinance, then they had votes in their caucuses for a full repeal of HB2. Berger, in a blog post, called it a "full repeal for full repeal."

Days later, at Cooper's urging, the Charlotte City Council repealed the major parts of its ordinance, including all clauses related to bathrooms and locker rooms. But Republicans cried foul, saying Charlotte hadn't repealed the ordinance in its entirety. Hours before the special session gaveled in, Charlotte called an emergency meeting to repeal its ordinance in full. But Republicans, closeted in hours-long closed door meetings, said votes peeled away. "That did irreparable damage to people's trust," said one North Carolina Republican operative.

During those caucus meetings, Republicans also tracked Charlotte Mayor Jennifer Roberts' social media posts, where she promised a "long-game" approach to progressives who urged Democrats not to compromise with Republicans. "Stay tuned," Roberts wrote.

"I was born at night, but I wasn't born last night. The Democrats weren't being up front about wanting this to all be over," said state Sen. Andrew Brock, a conservative from western North Carolina. "So for the people who were willing to vote for a repeal, they felt like Lucy was pulling back the football."

As the deal began unraveling, Berger went to Senate Democrats and floated a repeal of HB2 with a moratorium, meaning no cities could try to pass a Charlotte-style ordinance for six months.Cooper and Senate Democrats rejected it, since it wasn't a clean repeal, which deviated from their agreement. "When it came time for the House and Senate to do its job, they did not do it," Cooper said. Legislators went home for Christmas empty-handed.

Identity politics do not work in North Carolina," says Ford.

"We should've taken the deal in December," Ford said, calling it a "no-brainer" now. So much so that he filed a bill Tuesday that would essentially recreate Berger's terms from December, a repeal with a six-month cooling off period. But Berger put the kibosh on it, telling a Charlotte TV station that there wasn't enough support for it in either party.

Ford, meanwhile, has his own ambitions to consider. He's running for Charlotte mayor in a primary against Roberts, so he has an incentive to be critical of how HB2 has been handled. But in the meantime, he's urging his fellow Democrats to avoid purity tests on social issues that appeal to voters in urban centers, but don't resonate with rural voters outside of Wake and Mecklenburg counties. In the past three election cycles, a majority of unaffiliated voters, the fastest growing party affiliation in the state, have backed Republicans over Democrats.

So what do Democrats need to talk about in North Carolina?

"Anything but a social issue, but we can't get off of that," Ford told me, slamming his desk for emphasis. "Identity politics do not work in North Carolina."

***

Lt. Gov. Dan Forest is at the other end of the HB2 spectrum. Forest, an architect turned hard-core conservative politician, opposes the ongoing efforts to repeal the law. He went to Texas earlier this month to urge lawmakers there to pass a bathroom law of their own.

Over the past year, Forest said, the narrative around HB2 has been "disingenuous, at best."

"Now it's the anti-LGBT bill," he said, insisting it centers on safety and privacy. "There's nothing anti-LGBT about it."

On safety, Equality N.C.'s executive director Chris Sgro pointed out that more than a 100 cities and 19 states already extend Charlotte-style protections to LGBT people. "I don't see any legislators who have a problem taking their kids to Disney World, because Orlando has the exact same bathroom policy," he said.

I don't see any legislators who have a problem taking their kids to Disney World, because Orlando has the exact same bathroom policy," says Sgro.

It also drives Forest crazy that for all the talk of financial blowback because of HB2, the state's economic picture is bright. North Carolina's budget surplus tops $500 million, and the state is adding thousands of jobs every month. "If Cooper didn't have HB2 to talk about, what could he possibly criticize Republicans for?" asked Dee Stewart, a GOP consultant in the state.

But Cooper, now in charge of marketing his state to corporations, said that doesn't account for companies who might have moved to North Carolina, but won't because of HB2's "stain." If they had, the state's economy would "take off" even more, the governor said.

Shaking his head at Cooper's comments, Forest said: "Give me a list," referring to companies who won't move here. "I'll call them."

Forest readily admits that as lieutenant governor, he doesn't have a vote on HB2. But his influence among his party looms large, especially as he's preparing for a likely gubernatorial challenge to Cooper in four years.

"If Forest came out and said, 'This is a compromise bill I can get behind,' we'd pick up at least a dozen Republican House members," said one House GOP member. "That'll never happen, but I don't know if it's because Forest firmly believes in the law or if it's because he wants to shore up his base in 2020."

***

North Carolina may not have seen the last of HB2, or something like it, much to the horror of many an overwrought state legislator.

Behind the state's political impasse is geography: Rural and urban priorities are on a collision course. Among the country's 10 most populous states, North Carolina has "the largest proportion of individuals living in rural areas," UNC's Carolina Population Center wrote last year.

"We have, as a state, no real history of big city politics intervening in the state, so in many ways HB2 was a first really significant time when a public policy emerged from a city, where the issue had a very different impact in on the state level rather than city," said Joe Stewart, executive director of the N.C. Free Enterprise Foundation, a bipartisan political firm. "HB2 was the first, but it is probably not the last time. We should expect more of this."

That may now include a religious freedom bill that Democrats say would allow discrimination under a different guise. On Wednesday, House Democratic Leader Darren Jackson tweeted pictures of proposed legislation from Republicans that he said would attach religious freedom language, echoing Indiana's controversial RFRA law, to the repeal of HB2. McGrady told The Raleigh News and Observer that "RFRA has been discussed," but the documents Jackson tweeted are "not my work."

Jackson said House members had a "compromise in sight" this week, but now "we're moving in the opposite direction again."

"It's hard to believe it's been a year," he said.

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The Bathroom Bill That Ate North Carolina

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RALEIGH, N.C. - On a 200-mile drive from the state capital to Kings Mountain, a tiny town where the Charlotte suburbs fade into the Appalachian foothills, state Rep. Chuck McGrady told House Speaker Tim Moore, one of the most powerful Republicans in North Carolina, not to do it.