History has a way of sending us quiet reminders that the past is never truly past.

One of mine arrives every year on October 26.

On October 26, 1919, a child was born in Washington, D.C. who would later help reshape American politics. His name was Edward William Brooke III.

Forty-four years later, on that same date, October 26, 1963, I was born.

Different generations. Different parts of the country. Yet our stories meet at a powerful intersection: the strength of a historically Black college and university education and the determination to lead with purpose in a nation that has not always welcomed that leadership.

Senator Brooke’s journey ran through the proud halls of Howard University. At a time when opportunity was restricted and expectations were narrow, historically Black colleges and universities stood as open doors. They did more than educate. They affirmed dignity, built confidence, and prepared students to step forward even when the world doubted them. 

Howard helped prepare Brooke for a life of service. After serving his country in World War II and earning a law degree from Boston University School of Law, he entered public life with discipline and conviction. In 1966, the voters of Massachusetts elected him to the United States Senate, making him the first Black American to be popularly elected to that chamber.

That moment mattered far beyond one state. It showed that the American story could grow larger, even if slowly and unevenly. It reminded young people across the country that preparation and courage can move history forward. 

Twenty five years later, that same spirit of progress touched my own life.

Like Senator Brooke, my path was shaped by an HBCU education. I graduated from Xavier University of Louisiana, an institution grounded in faith, scholarship, discipline, and service. Xavier instilled something deeper than academic knowledge. It reinforced character and responsibility. It taught that leadership is measured not by title, but by the difference one makes. 

That foundation led me into public service.

In 1991, exactly twenty-five years after Senator Brooke’s historic election, the people of Louisiana elected me to serve in the Louisiana House of Representatives. I became the first African American to represent my district in that body. 

The journey continued, one step at a time.

I later had the honor of becoming the first African American elected to represent District C on the New Orleans City Council. Later still, I became the first Black state senator to represent that same community in the Louisiana State Senate.

Today, I have the privilege of serving in the United States Congress representing Louisiana’s Second Congressional District, and as First Vice Chair of the Congressional Black Caucus. I carry those responsibilities mindful of the leaders who opened doors long before my time. 

None of those milestones were about personal recognition. They were about progress. They were about making sure the doors of opportunity opened wider for those coming behind us.

Senator Brooke understood that responsibility well. During his time in the Senate, he helped shape the Civil Rights Act of 1968, strengthening protections against housing discrimination. During the Watergate crisis, he also demonstrated uncommon independence and courage by becoming the first Republican senator to call for President Richard Nixon’s resignation.

That is what principled leadership looks like.

Progress in America has never happened automatically. It has moved forward because people prepared themselves, believed in something larger than themselves, and kept moving even when the path was uncertain.

From the classrooms of Howard to the campus of Xavier.

From neighborhoods often overlooked to the halls of government.

From local service to national responsibility.

Historically Black colleges and universities have helped prepare generations of leaders for moments they could not yet see.

When I reflect on the fact that Senator Brooke and I share a birthday, and that my own historic election came twenty-five years after his, I am reminded that progress often unfolds across generations. One person breaks a barrier. Another carries that progress forward. The next builds something stronger still.

From the Westbank of New Orleans and the Cut Off to the United States Congress, my journey has been shaped by faith, family, community, and education. At the center of that story stands the enduring strength of historically Black colleges and universities.

Somewhere today, a student is walking across the campus of an HBCU carrying dreams they may not yet fully understand. 

Just as Edward Brooke once did.

Just as so many of us have.

And when history calls their name, they will be ready.