Ed Hamilton's York, Overlooking the Ohio River in Louisville, KY Friends, Last week, the nation got another glimpse of something I’ve experienced for years: The story of York still unsettles people. The recent vandalism of Ed Hamilton’s powerful statue of York , standing watch over the Louisville Belvedere, wasn’t just an act of damage to bronze and artistry. It was a reminder of how fragile memory can be—especially when it comes to the lives and legacies of Black Americans who gave everything but were promised nothing. And like the attack on the prominent bust of York that appeared in Portland Oregon’s Mount Tabor Park a few years ago, this was a strike at memory. At legacy. At truth. For over 25 years, I’ve worked in schools, juvenile facilities, museums, and public spaces across this nation, sharing stories that too many of our history books skip. For that quarter-century, I’ve stepped into York’s story as a Living History interpreter. I’ve carried his voice, his grief, his humor, and his dignity into rooms where he’d never been allowed when he was alive. I’ve stood in his shoes before thousands of students, educators, and community members, trying to give voice to someone who history tried to silence. And even now, 220 years later, some would rather this memory remain still, hidden, wounded. But, as America prepares to commemorate its 250th anniversary, we will not let that happen. York was the only Black man on the Lewis and Clark Expedition. He proved himself, A soldier, A hunter, A diplomat, A brother in the storm. Forced into service he endured, contributed, and sacrificed to prove he was more than up to the task. He crossed mountains and rivers for a country that denied his basic humanity. And like so many, when the great journey ended and the mission complete, he was denied the very freedom he helped mythologize for an entire nation. But still, he stands. That’s what makes this statue important. It’s not just about bronze and stone. It’s about the record. It’s about refusing to let another Black life be written out of the story. York’s presence challenges us to remember that this nation has always been built on the backs, and with the brilliance, of people who were never given proper credit. From Indigenous peoples whose care and presence of these lands for millennia has been bulldozed, and immigrants who fueled and fed the industrial revolution, to the Africans human trafficked to built and maintained the entire infrastructure of a new nation, our stories can no longer be sanitized. This act of vandalism couldn’t silence York’s story. But serves as a call to amplify it louder than ever, a demand we teach it more boldly, tell it more fully, and ask ourselves why honoring Black history still feels threatening to some. So, while someone may have carved into the statue’s arm, they didn’t wound York. They simply revealed just how difficult we have made it to erase historical memory, and how much work we still must do to properly celebrate it. York stood resilient, with dignity, in service,  gazing into the face of injustice. Today, he stands as a symbol of what it means to persist, even when history has tried to forget you. This act of vandalism doesn’t silence York’s legacy. It reminds us how necessary it is. This is not a moment for outrage alone… It’s a moment for resolve. An opportunity to amplify York’s name, his story, and what he represents. We will not back down from telling these truths. And we will not let York be erased, again. York deserves that much. And honestly, we do too.   In purpose and hope, Hasan Davis, J.D. Hope Dealer | Educator | Living History Interpreter www.hasandavis.com Hasan Davis Portrays York of the Lewis and Clark Expedition

By Hasan Davis April 15, years ago – Reno, NV Some mornings stay with you. Not because of the sunrise or the skyline—but because of a person who reminds you that the smallest acts of kindness can shape someone’s journey. It was the last morning of a national juvenile and family court judges conference. Like many post-conference mornings, it started in a blur—suitcases zipped tight with swag and session handouts, a rush to make the first shuttle, and the quiet hope that I might catch a nap on the plane home. But at the Reno airport, just past the slot machines and the hum of overworked baristas, I met someone who turned that routine morning into something unforgettable. A Stranger at the Terminal He was young, maybe mid-20s. Clean white T-shirt. Brand-new boots. Expensive jeans. Tattoos climbed his arms and wrapped around his neck like vines. In one hand, a boarding pass. In the other, a bulging manila envelope—his life stuffed into a single folder. “How’s it going?” I said casually as I passed. He looked up. “I’m just trying to figure this all out,” he said. Then added, “I just got out of prison, man.” He explained that the last time he was on a plane, the feds had escorted him. But this time, they just dropped him off at the curb with a ticket and directions. We reached a fork in the terminal. “What gate are you headed to?” I asked. “B-5, I think.” “Perfect. I’m at B-8. Just roll with me.” First Time for Everything As we walked, he admitted, “I ain’t ever done this before.” “It’s cool,” I assured him. “I’m right here with you.” I noticed the logo on my navy polo: the seal of the Department of Juvenile Justice. I wondered—would it make him more comfortable or less? At the TSA checkpoint, I led the way: shoes, belt, laptop—off and in the bins. He mimicked each movement carefully. “My people sent me these clothes,” he said. “Did you know they let you get clothes mailed in for the trip home? I’m glad they did.” When the TSA agent made him remove a leather tag from his jeans and send it through the scanner, he retrieved it and examined it. “These jeans cost $145! I can’t believe they spent that kind of money on pants.” He shook his head, not with pride, but with disbelief. Sometimes it takes losing everything to understand the value of something. Two Hours, A Lifetime of Questions He asked, “Now what? My flight isn’t till 6:30. I’ve got almost two hours.” “I’ve got time too,” I said. “We can sit together.” We passed the gates and settled into a quiet corner. “How long were you down?” I asked. “Two and a half years, man. I can’t believe it.” I slid into mentor mode—something I do when a young person ends up next to me for more than five minutes. “Did you get your GED? Learn a trade? Anything that’s gonna help you move forward?” “They let me take the GED,” he said, a bit of pride rising in his voice. “And I took a parenting class. I got a certificate. That’s gonna help me be a better father.” He smiled when he said it. That smile said everything. Rediscovering a Name At Gate B-5, I explained how Southwest’s boarding worked. Letter. Number. Poles. No assigned seats. “What does that mean?” he asked sharply. Prison had taught him that ambiguity could be dangerous. We stood in front of the gate monitor and I broke down the process. As I explained, I realized—boarding procedures sounded eerily familiar. Lines. Priority. Controlled movement. It wasn’t that different from prison. “What’s your name?” I asked finally, extending my hand. “Frank,” he replied. “Well Frank, I’m glad to meet you.” And then something shifted. “You don’t know how good it feels to hear somebody actually say my name.” He reached in his pocket and pulled out his red prison-issued ID. A grainy photo. A line of small print. And one big number. “That’s who I’ve been for two and a half years,” he said. “It’s nice to have a name again.” Crossroads “I’m going to a halfway house,” Frank shared. “They said if I get a job and stay steady, I can go home in three months. I can’t wait to see my girls.” But then came a quiet confession. “I’m still in a gang. A Blood. My family too. I don’t think I can just get out of it… but I’m not up for all that drama anymore. I just want a job. Take care of my girls.” “You think they’re just gonna let you walk away?” I asked. “They’re your people, right?” He sighed. “I’ve been in that damn hole for two and a half years… not one of them sent me a card. Not even an email. And we can get emails now.” Silence sat between us. Unexpected Introductions I saw a familiar face—an African American judge I’d met at past conferences. Built like a linebacker. As he headed to Gate B-8, I nodded toward him. “See that brother right there? He’s a judge.” Frank looked back at me, surprised. “Yeah,” I said. “And you know what he tells me? He’s tired of seeing young men who say they want to change but won’t change the people they surround themselves with.” Frank said nothing. He didn’t need to. Anchors and Hope We got breakfast. I grabbed a panini. He went for a Sprite. “I can’t eat now. I’m too excited. But when I land, I’m getting a real cheesesteak sandwich,” he grinned. We sat and talked about his girls—ages 9 and almost 7. He showed me photos. Beautiful little girls with beaded braids and wide smiles. “My whole life is in this envelope,” he said. I told him I’d had the same envelope when I left the Army—certificates, orders, awards. It wasn’t a prisoner’s envelope. It was a transition packet. He held up his parenting class certificate like it was gold. “I’m giving this to my mom. She’ll hang it up.” His smile dimmed as he showed me a photo of his daughters’ mother. “She wants me to live with her… but I don’t think it’s a good idea. She’s a Blood too. And she’s still about that life. I don’t want that anymore.” Choosing to Live “So what are you going to do when they come for you?” I asked. “They’ll know you’re back.” He looked me in the eyes. “I’ve got to let those young dudes know—prison ain’t what they think it is. These people are just handing out time, and they don’t care who catches it.” As he shuffled through his paperwork, he found his travel orders. A furlough from 4:00 AM to 6:15 PM. “If your plane’s delayed, you need to call and explain,” I said. “Don’t wait. Don’t assume. Ask for help if you need it.” I introduced him to the Southwest gate agent, who walked him through the boarding process. The Last Word “Now, when you get on that plane, you won’t get to choose your seat,” I told him. “Just buckle in and rest if you can.” He nodded. I gave him space, then circled back. “Alright little brother, it’s time. You’ve got work to do.” I handed him my card. “You don’t have to call. But if you need to talk—ever—I’ll be here.” We shook hands. I pulled him in for a hug. “You’ve got a lot to do if you want to take care of those girls.” “Thank you,” he said. “No need,” I replied. “Good luck," and for emphasis I looked him square in the eyes and said his name again, "Frank.” As I walked to my gate, I looked back and saw him watching the monitor at B-5, slowly making sense of it all. Reflection: What We Pass On As I boarded, I caught on last glimpse of Frank, standing at his boarding post. I whispered a prayer: “Good luck, Frank.” And I gave thanks—for every person who took five minutes out of their day to help me believe that my life could be more than survival. That morning, I got to pass a little of that forward. And that’s what this work is really about. You never know who’s standing at the gate of transformation. You never know what someone carries in their envelope. And you never know what can happen when you simply say someone's name. Let’s Keep Walking Have you ever had a “You Never Know” moment —one where you were reminded of your power to make a difference ? Drop it in the comments or share it with a young person who’s finding their way. Let’s keep creating space for second chances, for humanity, for hope.

I am feeling humbled and blessed by the sincere and powerful feedback from readers or THE JOURNEY OF YORK. Thank you Macsbooks for your thoughtful reflections! I think this is an absolute must-read for all young American readers, for teachers of young students, parents, and perhaps even adults who are clueless regarding the real heroes of the expedition. I love Lewis and Clark but I know, without a doubt, where the credit for their expedition’s success truly lies. Read the full review here. #JourneyofYorkBookReview

Hasan Davis, an author, actor and youth advocate, will visit Western Carolina University as part of the 2018-19 interdisciplinary learning theme “Defining America,” with two public presentations. On Wednesday, Oct. 24, Davis will tell his life story of a troubled youth who overcame obstacles to become commissioner of the Kentucky Department of Juvenile Justice in a 6 p.m. presentation Blue Ridge conference room. The program is part of WCU’s Cultural Awareness and Sensitivity Education conversation sessions. Read full article on wcu.edu #DepartmentofInterculturalAffairs #WesternCarolinaUniversity

Vera’s Family Justice Program sat down with Hasan Davis, acting commissioner of the Kentucky Department of Juvenile Justice (DJJ), to discuss the influence of family in his life and his work. Read the full interview here.

by Chris Davis “You throw the sails up and they catch the wind, once you catch the wind you can make it take you wherever you want to go” On May 14th Hasan joined his friend Cristian Moore on “The Resilience Breakthrough Podcast” which is a podcast built around resilience and used to share stories and strategies of resilience to inspire listeners. Christian Moore is a long time friend of Hasan and a fellow hope dealer. Like Hasan Christian uses his past life experiences to inspire and instill hope in people around him. “Hasan Davis knows about hope. It’s the only thing that kept him going through the loss of his cousin, as a soldier, and as the Commissioner of Juvenile Justice for the State of Kentucky.” Hasan told stories from his past about how hope and resilience are what allowed him to accomplish the things he’s done. He stressed the concept of “Harnessing the wind” of life in order to create opportunity and use hope to reach higher places. To listen to Hasan and the rest of the podcast you can find it on Apple Podcasts under the Resilience Breakthrough Podcast, Episode 7.

Hasan Davis was featured in Fall 2012 issue of the Kentucky Law Enforcement magazine in an article titled “Beating the Odds.” He shares his journey from juvenile delinquent to Commissioner of Kentucky’s Department of Juvenile Justice. Kentucky Law Enforcement is a publication for the law enforcement community as well as public officials and others involved with law enforcement. Read the full story here.

Vermont Family Network has chosen Hasan Davis as their Keynote Speaker for their Annual Conference on April 3, 2019. Vermont Family Network empowers and supports all Vermont families of children with special needs so that all children reach their potential. Their vision is that all Vermont families help their children reach their potential, which makes Hasan’s message perfect for their event. Read the full announcement on VFN’s website. #AnnualConference #VermontFamilyNetwork

I’m having a great week of Hope Dealing close to home. Friday I’m at Floyd Central High School in Kentucky and the Narrative 4 story exchange with students from the Bronx NY. Yesterday was Knox Central High School in Barbourville, KY with a whole school assembly, a breakout session for student leaders and mentors and then a great conversation with some of the ROTC Cadets! Today I had a couple of hours with Pre-service teachers at Eastern Kentucky University exploring equality/equity/justice and the commitment to provide ALL children quality educational opportunities… Still up this week, a day with the students at Corbin High School, then closing the week keynoting the Annual GLIMPSE Diversity Leadership Conference which will take place this year at Berea College. The Berea Black Cultural Center wants to make sure I include other supporters like Partners for Education at Berea College, Mary Margaret Slone, Ann Lyttle-Burns in all of this….. WHEW #HopeDealers #BereaCollege #EasternKentuckyUniversity #Kentucky #GLIMPSEDiversityLeadershipConference #FloydCentralHighSchool #CorbinHighSchoolKentucky #KnoxCentralHighSchoolBarbourvilleKY

I recently visited Grinnell College (where my son Malcolm attends) to celebrate Martin Luther King, Jr. Day. I shared my story and performed as York, and I was also blessed to record a podcast with Malcolm. You can hear it on the All Things Grinnell podcast page, and it is also available to listen to on iTunes, Google Play, Stitcher, TuneIn, and Spotify. From their site: Hasan Davis shares his story of becoming a “hope dealer,” overcoming challenging circumstances, learning disabilities, and numerous setbacks to find his path. Along the way, various people inspired him to see a version of himself that he could not, and now he brings that message of hope to people, especially youth, through work in schools and the criminal justice system. Davis wields the power of stories to engage in difficult discussions about the history of slavery and racism in this country, and help people reflect on their own stories. Then, Gabriel Shubert ’20 talks with Davis’ son, Malcolm Davis ’21, playwright, poet, and musician, about his music, growing up in Berea, Kentucky, and how he brings his personal life and activism into his music. Davis discusses the musical community here at Grinnell, where he has found helpful friends and developed his voice.

“You have a gift of the ability to share your story and possess the courage to open up about your journey to help others.” Hasan acted as the keynote speaker as well as a workshop leader for youth at the Vermont Family Network’s youth summit aimed at helping youth with disabilities by advising them on prominent issues with solutions he himself has had to use. As someone who grew up with learning disabilities and having faced large obstacles due to them, Hasan used his own experiences to aid and guide over issues like self advocating and resilience as well as strategies for success. During the keynote speech, Hasan shared his experiences with various systems and issues that face youth and addressed how the attendees should navigate helping their students in a way that not only helps them get by but more importantly succeed. During the workshop Hasan addressed important data unknown to many of the youth that it affected, informing youth of the statistics that they would probably never be shown including elevated reprimand rates, suspension numbers, and drop out rates of students with disabilities as opposed to students without and how they could avoid those pitfalls and tactics to succeed in the face of that adversity. A video of his Keynote presentation and workshop can be found below. Keynote (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=HEKYOPdTBIA) Workshop (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=HEKYOPdTBIA)

Speaking from his home in Berea, Kentucky last Thursday, Hasan was featured on a National Park Service webinar called “Hasan Davis: A Conversation About York, Equity, Race and the Lewis and Clark Story.” He spoke and answered questions about York and how his story makes a good conversation started in the midst of the Black Lives Matter movement. By examining the injustices done to York on the Lewis and Clark Trail, “we can see the injustice and recognize that this is just one story of millions where people work hard their entire lives and receive no benefit,” Davis said. “Slavery is a mom and dad working seven days a week, no days off, no vacation, they don’t get a pension or a 401(k). They do what other people tell them to do, and the other people get the benefits.” “The recent deaths of George Floyd, Breonna Taylor and Ahmaud Arbery are tragic reminders that discussions of racial justice must continue,” Karla Sigala, interpretive specialist for the the Lewis and Clark Historic Trail, said. “We’ve been having this conversation for years, but the thing is we need to keep having it over and over again,” Sigala said. “Black history is American history. American Indian history is American history.” Read the full story from the Missoulian.