Black service members have long been vital to the defense of this state and nation. Their stories are not side notes — they are central volumes in our shared history.
(Fort Douglas Military Museum) Buffalo Soldiers with the M1873 Springfield Trapdoor rifle. Members of the 24th Infantry, on campaign duty, are lined up with an experimental blanket roll they were testing for the U.S. Army, circa 1893.
In recent weeks, Utah celebrated the opening of Utah’s Buffalo Soldier Heritage Trail, a public acknowledgment of the Black soldiers who served our nation with distinction — many of whom were stationed right here at Fort Douglas and Fort Duchesne, as well as in other parts of northeastern Utah. Yet this milestone moment comes as the U.S. Army quietly considers the roll-back of one of its most symbolic gestures toward racial equity: the removal of Black WWI hero Henry Johnson’s name from an Army base once named after Confederate Gen. Leonidas K. Polk in Leesville, Louisiana.
These two events — one local and forward-looking, the other national and regressive — lay bare a troubling contradiction. How can we claim to honor all who served while continuing to uphold a vision of American valor that centers only on white men? How can we ensure that an important historical milestone, such as the recognition of Utah’s Buffalo Soldiers, doesn’t become tokenism — a symbolic gesture that leaves deeper systemic bias intact?
Utah’s military history is more complex and diverse than is often taught. From the Buffalo Soldiers who patrolled the Utah frontier to the five Black commanders who have led Hill Air Force Base, Black service members have long been vital to the defense of this state and nation. Their stories are not side notes — they are central volumes in our shared history.
Yet, across the country, we see persistent efforts to diminish or erase those contributions. Cultural conservatives often rail against so-called “identity politics” yet promote a version of patriotism that recognizes only white soldiers as true heroes. The consideration of the removal of Henry Johnson from the Louisiana installation is not about neutrality — it’s about erasure. Teddy Roosevelt did the same when his narrative, over time, began to minimize and even omit the valor of the soldiers of the 10th Cavalry of Buffalo Soldiers, the unit credited with raising the American ensign of Fort Douglas 24th Infantry atop the Hill in San Juan, Cuba.
This version of patriotism is not only racially exclusionary; it’s unsustainable. The U.S. military relies on a diverse population to maintain readiness. According to 2022 Census estimates, there are approximately 78.5 million white males over the age of 18 in the United States — a shrinking segment of the 283 million adult population. In Utah, that number is roughly 1.4 million. If we exclude women and people of color from contributing to our military, who is left to serve? Who is left to lead?
Despite this reality, we continue to entertain narratives glorifying a white-only legacy of American strength. Such myths distort the past, harm the present and weaken our future.
Recognizing the contributions of all who serve — regardless of race or gender — is not about political correctness. It is about accuracy, accountability and national cohesion. Most of all, it is about national readiness. When we refuse to name racism for what it is — whether in policy, history books or base naming — we allow injustice to endure under the guise of tradition, which blasphemes our national narrative and weakens our national readiness.
Some argue that calling actions racist is itself divisive. But what’s more divisive: naming racism for what it is or allowing it to shape our institutions in silence? We have to question if not challenging racism as racism only allows perpetrators the latitude to continue dangerous behaviors, using imposed politeness to shield destructive actions from criticism.
In Utah, we have an opportunity to tell the whole story. At Sema Hadithi African American Heritage and Culture, we work to uncover and uplift the histories that have too long been buried — such as those of the Buffalo Soldiers, Black Utah veterans and community leaders who served not just in uniform but also as trailblazers in public life.
Our message is simple: All gave some. If we’re serious about honoring sacrifice, we must be serious about telling the truth and celebrating the contributions of all who have given to Utah. This is what we call “unity through historical truth.”
The road to a more just America begins not with denial but with recognition. By honoring Black soldiers alongside their white counterparts, we do not rewrite history — we open the narrative for critical community consideration of the contributions and successes of everyone.
Let Utah be known for its courage in embracing the full story of American uniform and public service.
(Robert Burch) Robert Burch is the executive director of Sema Hadithi African American Heritage and Culture.
Robert Burch is the executive director of Sema Hadithi African American Heritage and Culture, a Utah-based nonprofit historical society dedicated to researching, preserving and sharing Black history in the state of Utah. Sema Hadithi initiated the effort that ultimately formed the organizational partnership behind the creation of the Buffalo Soldier Heritage Trail.
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