By Larry Efird

A week ago, I attended a Martin Luther King Jr., celebration at Duke. The keynote speaker was Judge Jerry Blackwell, a graduate of A.L. Brown High School, my alma mater. My Kannapolis pride was unashamedly bursting as I heard Judge Blackwell introduced among so many other dignitaries on the platform that Sunday afternoon in Duke Chapel. 

He was appointed as a United States District Court Judge in 2022 by President Joe Biden and is nationally known for his work with the Derek Chauvin case following the death of George Floyd in Minneapolis in 2020. But long before that, he had been educated in Kannapolis City Schools before heading off to Chapel Hill as a Morehead-Cain scholar, eventually graduating from the UNC School of Law. 

I had never met Judge Blackwell until moments before his address as our paths briefly crossed. He told me that he had gone to school with my younger brother and that my grandfather, a local contractor, had built his family home. I told him that I had most likely dug the footings for that house one hot summer when I was a teenager while working at my grandfather’s lumber yard.  

From Judge Blackwell’s address, I could tell that we also shared a similar faith in God. We were privileged to grow up in a humble, God-fearing town which taught us a basic respect for our fellow human beings and for our Creator. One of the reminders he gave the audience of over 500 that day was that we should always seek to “overcome hate with love” and “overcome darkness with light,” echoing Martin Luther King Jr. ‘s philosophy of non-violence in the face of oppression and injustice.

Our mill town upbringing in that tight-knit community taught us to value hard work and determination, along with fairness and justice. We were also taught love of country and how to be good citizens. Actions such as voting demonstrated our faith in our country just as worship demonstrated our faith in God. But however much we loved our country, the act of worship was reserved for God alone. Those core values, like the footings and foundation of a house, clearly proved to be essential elements of Judge Blackwell’s success and genuine humility. His wisdom was so appreciated in Duke Chapel that he received an enthusiastic standing ovation.

Recently, my wife and I shockingly learned that the ballots we completed in the November 2024 elections were targeted for being illegal and invalid. We found this out second hand, only after a friend called to tell us we were on a contrived list of over 60,000 other North Carolina voters whose registrations had been suspiciously called into question. Until this time in my life, I have never felt disenfranchised as an American but sadly, I do now. 

I am an eighth generation North Carolinian so how could my citizenship be in question? Or my social security number and my driver’s license number which I’ve had for over half a century? 

Once I contacted the Durham Board of Elections for an explanation, they assured me my voter registration and my wife’s were fully in order. I also contacted the office of the politician who was responsible for this travesty. He has not responded to my inquiries after three weeks, and I do not expect to hear back from him.

This is the first time in my life I have ever felt disenfranchised as an American but I now realize first hand how millions of other Americans have felt for generations. To be honest, it’s new territory for me and for my wife. I have been disenchanted with my country before, but never disenfranchised. There is a big difference. I have now been cut off and deemed unworthy to vote by someone who simply could not accept the results of an election he lost. The fact that he wants to serve on our state’s highest court makes this even more troubling. 

I am rightfully frustrated, as well as angry, but I will fight to have my voice heard and my vote counted along with 60,000 others, because I love my country and my state. I will, however, choose to employ “love over hate” and “light over darkness.” Thank you Judge Blackwell and Dr. King for showing us that disenchantment and disenfranchisement need not end in despair. They can, instead, lead to justice. 

Larry Efird, a former Kannapolis school employee, now lives in Durham.