One of nine children, with seven older sisters, Homer grew up on Long Island, N.Y., obsessed with airplanes. He began flying lessons at 15, soloed at 16, and entered the U.S. Air Force Academy already holding a private pilot’s license.

He went on to fly military transport aircraft, supporting operations during Desert Shield and Desert Storm, as well as humanitarian missions in Somalia. He joined United Airlines while continuing to serve in the Air Force Reserve.

It is a distinctly American story. It is also a distinctly Black American one.

Shining a Spotlight

A generation after the Tuskegee Airmen battled racism simply for the right to fly military aircraft, Homer became an Air Force officer and commercial airline pilot. After his death, the Airmen posthumously honored him.

He left behind a wife, Melodie, and a 10-month-old daughter, Laurel, who grew up knowing her father largely through other people’s memories. Today, mother and daughter help keep that memory alive through the LeRoy W. Homer Jr. Foundation, which provides scholarships to young people pursuing private pilot licenses.

In recent years, the National September 11 Memorial & Museum in New York City has worked to bring greater attention to lesser-known Black victims, survivors and first responders — an implicit acknowledgment that the story America remembers isn’t necessarily the complete one.

That doesn’t diminish the stories of firefighters we honor or the passengers who charged the cockpit of Flight 93; it enlarges it.

Because before “Let’s roll,” there was a “mayday” call, a struggle in a cockpit, and a fight for control. And one of the first Americans to fight back on Sept. 11 was a Black man.

This article was originally published by Word In Black.