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DeCorey Hale was destined to bring the gift of representation as a Black Santa Claus.

His childhood is filled with memories of his parents adorning their home with the holiday spirit in Sylacauga, Alabama. Their storage shed was filled with mostly Christmas decorations. About 100 pieces make up his mother’s ceramic Christmas town, which features an ice skating rink and an airport. Hale’s father Donald took pride in making sure the house was properly laced in lights and ornaments.

Even when lung cancer deteriorated Donald Hale’s health, he still tried to keep up with the seasonal traditions with a smile on his face all the way up to his passing on Dec. 12, 2000. The timing of his death wasn’t ideal – just two days shy of Hale’s mother’s birthday, with Christmas about two weeks away.

But the then-18-year-old DeCorey Hale took on one of his father’s wishes.

“He said, ‘Make Christmas as fun as you can. Remember me, but make sure you enjoy the spirit of Christmas.’ And I know that’s what he would want,” Hale said. “It’s gonna sound cliche, but you know, basically the spirit of Christmas is that it’s better to give than receive. So I would feel like I’m doing him a disservice to be moping around.”

Donald Hale’s wish has become like a guiding light of joy and goodwill throughout his son’s adulthood. At 43 years old, Hale has donated Christmas dinners to more than 400 families in the Sylacauga area over the span of five years. He has mentored local youth through life’s ups and downs for about 15 years.

And after moving to Birmingham, Hale has spent the past three years inspiring wonder in young and old as Santa Claus.

Holiday season or not, Hale has made it his purpose to give back.

“You just never know who you’re reaching. So I always try to set a standard. I always aim to be the best that I can be,” Hale said. “Even when you don’t have that suit on, you’re always a representation of yourself. So I think it’s important to always put your best foot forward, no matter what you’re doing.”

In 2016, Hale came up with an idea to feed the hungry for Christmas as a way of producing abundance for those facing trying times in Alabama, the sixth poorest state in the country. Talladega County, where Sylacauga is located, had a 22.4 percent poverty rate, which was four percent higher than the state’s.

Hale comes from a family of educators and is a former student of that same school system. He has witnessed the dynamics of poverty play out in the classroom. He noticed when some kids in his class didn’t raise their hands or make eye contact with teachers whenever they were asked the annual question: What are you hoping to get for Christmas?

“I was seeing the same thing in the school system when I got older,” Hale said. “You talk to the teachers, you talk to the parents and you realize, around the holidays, some parents have to make a tough decision. It’s either, ‘Hey, we’re going to have a great meal for Christmas and you’re going to get maybe a shirt, pants, underwear and socks, or you’re gonna get all the toys you want and we may be eating soup out of a can for Christmas.”

With that in mind, Hale and his friends organized a food drive to help alleviate some of the financial burden of the holidays. The group reached out to a local nonprofit called the Sylacauga Alliance for Family Enhancement, also known as S.A.F.E., to connect with low-income families.

They reached into their pockets and bought hams on their own dimes. The community itself came out in droves to donate macaroni noodles, yams, corn and other boxed and canned goods. Hale was touched to see how people were stepping up despite their own circumstances at the time.

“They were giving their last to help somebody else out,” Hale said. “It really makes you look at the power of kindness and how contagious it is because here’s somebody who easily could be a recipient of the services that we provide. But they say, ‘You know what, even though I don’t have a lot, I still want to give some of what I do have to somebody else.’”

The food drive became a holiday tradition in the Sylacauga area over the next five years. Hale and his colleagues, who took on the name “Friends of S.A.F.E.,” fed 50 to 100 families annually with the community’s help. Soon enough, people were chipping in to assist with meat donations. Community members were either giving away holiday hams they received from their job, or they offered to pitch in to pay for one for another family.

Seeing this spirit of generosity being stirred in his hometown inspired Hale to continue his commitment to help others through other avenues, such as providing guidance to students. According to a 2024 study, more adults are needed to help close a generational mentorship gap. Compared to Millennials, Gen Z youth are nine percent less likely to report having a mentor growing up. About two million Gen Z youth said they grew up without any meaningful adult relationship of any kind, which includes teachers, coaches, neighbors or extended family members.

Hale listed off a few signs that mentorship was needed in his area. In a small city that’s an hour or more away from bigger cities like Birmingham, Montgomery and Atlanta, Hale said teens will find ways to occupy their time. He started to recognize the youth who were getting in trouble for minor offenses, such as vandalism or stealing a pack of gum from a store.

Overall, he was concerned about the children who didn’t have a role model to look up to.

“I was just seeing a lot of things happen and it was from people that I actually knew,” Hale said. “And then you realize if somebody would have caught them sooner, if somebody would have just sat down and talked to them, maybe it wouldn’t have gone this way.”

Where others spotted problems, Hale saw potential. Thanks to his connections with S.A.F.E., which offers multiple workforce, family and child development programs, he had an ability to help youth and their families break out of whatever cycle they were in.

Hale felt it was his community responsibility to sign up to be a mentor at Nichols Lawson Middle School.

“My thing was, ‘What better way to prevent kids from going down the wrong path than to be an example myself,’” Hale said. “Because I can sit back and tell people all day, ‘Hey, man, I think you need a mentor. I think they need somebody in their life.’ But if I’m not stepping up to the plate you know what was really happening? I’m a hypocrite.”

Once a month, Hale would enter the classroom genuinely curious about his middle-school mentee’s lives. He didn’t lecture them from a podium. He gathered them around in a circle, got on their level and created a collaborative classroom environment with the youth. His receptiveness encouraged the kids to be more vulnerable about bullying, talk about how to navigate uncomfortable conversations with their parents and sometimes their college and career dreams. Hale said it was important for him to be a dedicated listening ear for the students to release whatever they were feeling inside without severe consequences.

“A lot of times kids will talk to anybody except for their parents. I was the same way,” Hale said. “You know, there were things that I would say to somebody else that I would never tell my parents because I didn’t know how they were gonna react. And for [the students], I was that safe space. I was that person that they could say, ‘Well, I’ll talk to Mr. Corey because, yeah, he knows my mom and dad, but he’s never gonna rat me out. He’s going to actually listen to me and he’s going to give me advice whether I like it or whether I don’t.’ That’s what I tried to do.”

The classroom became a good training ground for his career as Black Santa, which was supposed to be a one-time gig. Bryan Taunton, a good friend of Hale’s, who has been a professional Kris Kringle in Alabama for 12 years, tried to convince Hale how his mannerisms around children made him a good candidate for Santa Claus. But Hale didn’t think much about it due to other time commitments.

That changed three years ago, when he heard about a Black mother of three whose children had never seen a Black Santa in their hometown, Talladega.

She was grateful and emotional when she found out Hale was even considering doing a photoshoot as a Santa. Hale shared his photos on Facebook.

At this time, a lot of eyes were already on Hale’s social media. He ran for Sylacauga city council in 2020. In spring of 2022, he won the Best of Coosa Valley award as a community organizer/activist category for the second year in a row. Hale lightly referenced the multiple roles he filled in his hometown in his post.

Them: Hey DeCorey, is there anything you can’t or won’t do? Me: NOPE, Hale posted.

By the end of the Christmas season, Hale was sold on becoming “Santa D.” On Facebook he thanked the community for seeing his potential and Taunton specifically for advising him along the way.

“For us, it’s bigger than simply asking children what they want for Christmas and eating cookies with them,” Hale wrote. “It’s about representation – giving children someone they can relate to no matter race, creed or color.”

The next few holiday seasons illustrated the need for a Black Santa. Photographers had to quickly open additional slots for mini photoshoot sessions with Santa D. Tickets for Black Santa Christmas brunches sold out within a matter of a few hours. Every year, Hale’s schedule has become regularly packed with toy drives, city council events and other holiday matters.

The interaction with the community makes it all worthwhile, Hale explained. He has to come up with clever answers for inquisitive kids’ questions, such as Where’s the sleigh? Where are the reindeer? How did you get here?

During an event last weekend, a Black child asked his favorite question: You’re a Black Santa. Are you the real Santa?

Hale remembered seeing the young boy at a Christmas brunch a week prior. After reminding the child of the event, Hale explained to him why his presence would be with him wherever he goes.

“‘There are a lot of Santas out here, but I’m your personal Santa. So every time you go somewhere, I’ll be there,’’’ Hale said. “And then I told him, ‘You know what also makes me your personal Santa? Because I look just like you.’”

Hale said the child’s eyes lit up, and left that day knowing that the Christmas magic was for him as well. Hale didn’t grow up seeing a Black Santa in real life, either. But he knew a Black Kris Kringle existed because Hale saw that representation in the holiday decor his mother collected growing up. Making Black Santa a reality for those who went without one filled Hale’s heart with purpose.

Children weren’t the only ones who experienced these moments of wonder. During his church appearances, he would be in awe at the number of first ladies, deacons and other elders of the congregation who would be eager to document an important moment in their lives.

“They’d be like, ‘I want to take a photo with you because I never thought I’d see the day that a Black Santa came into this church. I never thought I’d live to see a Black Santa,’” Hale said. “And that’s when I realized this is a lot bigger than what I gave you credit for, and this is a lot more important to some people.”

Context is important in many cases when you’re a Black Santa. Hale definitely kept history in mind when engaging with Black people who were in their 60s, 70s and 80s.

“A lot of our parents and grandparents grew up in the civil rights era, and they didn’t see anybody who looked like them in positions like this,” Hale said. “You got to remember, to them Santa was probably an old white man in a department store that they didn’t get a chance to go into. So for a lot of them, this means the world.”

There have been times when Hale has been physically tired. Being Black Santa is a very strenuous job where smiling is a full-time requirement. He’s awakened to sore muscles from lifting and picking up children during his events. But there isn’t a moment when he regrets transforming into Ole Saint Nick. Being from a family of educators and hope-bearers, he knows how important his presence is.

“I’ve always been in that environment and I’ve seen the positive impacts that adults have in children’s lives,” he said. “And I decided that I wanted to be a part of it. I wanted to use my energy for good.”