“Mike, I appreciate the kind words you shared about my uncle, Representative Benjamin Swan, and the other giants whose lives and leadership helped shape Springfield. They deserve to be honored, remembered, and celebrated for the tremendous sacrifices they made on behalf of our community.
I also want to say that I have generally found you to be a decent person, and I do not question the sincerity of your respect for these men.
But I need to be candid about something.
You’ve known me for 30+ years and you know I’m not one to mince words. I believe you crossed a line when you appointed yourself the person to declare who now carries the torch of Black leadership and the Black freedom struggle in Springfield.
With all due respect, that is not your call to make.
The problem is not whether Representative Bud Williams is a respected public servant. The problem is that you, as a white man, presumed the authority to announce to the Black community who inherits the legacy of Benjamin Swan, Henry Thomas, Raymond Jordan, Jay Griffin, Henry Twiggs, Tom Belton, Bob Jones, and others.
You don’t get to make that determination.
One of the privileges that often accompanies whiteness in America is the assumption that proximity creates authority. Because you knew these men, worked with these men, admired these men, and perhaps even supported some of their causes, there seems to be an assumption that you are qualified to define their legacy and identify their successor.
You are not.
You may have known Ben Swan. I buried Ben Swan.
You may have worked alongside Henry Twiggs. I stood in the struggle with Henry Twiggs.
You may have admired these men. I was mentored, shaped, challenged, and loved by these men.
More importantly, the Black community itself has the right to determine who carries forward its traditions, institutions, movements, and struggles. That is not a decision to be made by former mayors, political observers, newspaper columnists, or well-meaning white allies.
It is ours to make.
What I found particularly troubling is that our community is still grieving. Families are still mourning. We are still celebrating lives that cannot be replaced. Yet in the middle of that process, you chose to use your platform to declare who now holds the mantle.
That felt less like honoring the fallen and more like attempting to script the next chapter of a story that does not belong to you.
My uncle’s legacy was not simply electoral politics. It was civil rights activism. It was movement work. It was organizing. It was speaking truth to power regardless of who occupied City Hall, the State House, or the White House. Those who carry that legacy will be determined by the people who have invested their lives in that struggle, not by outside observers, regardless of how well-intentioned they may be.
I say this respectfully, but directly: there are some conversations where allies should listen more than they speak. There are some matters where proximity does not equal authority. And there are some decisions that belong exclusively to the Black community.
Who carries our torch is one of them.
Respectfully, Mike, honor our leaders. Celebrate their lives. Share your memories. Tell the stories only you can tell.
But leave it to Black people to determine who will carry the torch for Black people.

Respectfully,
Bishop Swan ■