Samuel Lawson
The captain's voice echoed through the cabin, calm and steady, as he informed passengers of an unexpected bout of turbulence. Outside, the clouds darkened, and flashes of lightning illuminated the cockpit. My hands were steady on the controls, guiding the aircraft through the storm with precision honed over years of rigorous training. At 38 years old, I had flown countless flights like this, but the weight of my reality always felt heavier than the sky I navigated.
Living in New York, I often marveled at the contrast between the city’s diversity and the narrow perceptions I encountered as one of the few Black pilots in the U.S. Less than 4% of pilots share my skin color, and it shows—in the skeptical glances, the offhanded assumptions that I’m part of the cabin crew, or the outright disbelief when I walk into the cockpit. The legacy of pioneers like Marlon Green and David Harris, who broke barriers decades ago, was my compass, even when those moments tested my resolve.
That day, the storm was fierce, but we landed gently, a testament to the training that no one could question. The cabin erupted in applause—a universal gesture of relief and gratitude. As the passengers disembarked, one man insisted on meeting the captain. I was ready for the moment; it was all too familiar.
He strode to the cockpit, his face lighting up with excitement as he extended his hand. "Incredible job up there! I—" His words faltered when he saw me. His hand hung midair for a moment too long before he forced a weak smile. "Oh, you’re the captain?"
"Yes, sir," I replied, my tone measured. "I’m glad you enjoyed the flight."
He nodded stiffly, muttering a faint thank you before walking away. It wasn’t anger I felt, nor sadness—it was exhaustion. Back in my New York apartment that night, the city’s hum outside my window, I thought of the young Black students introduced to aviation through mentorship programs, some stepping onto a plane for the first time. For them, I had to keep going.
The turbulence in the sky was nothing compared to the one on the ground, but just as I steered through storms, I would navigate this one too.