As a little kid in South Jersey, I remember climbing into my Uncle Gary's little airplane.

It had maybe four or five seats.

And the higher we flew, the smaller the world down there became.

My family's neighborhood, the deli, the candy store, the school, the post office, even

the people, all miniaturized to the size of M&Ms.

But up in the sky, that wide open world was bigger than anything my six year old mind

could have imagined.

Up there, the possibilities, the dreams were infinite. We were free.

All these years later, I still hold onto those feelings of freedom and wonder that I had

up there with him.

I mean, if we could fly anything and everything else was in reach.

When I was young, I just thought it was cool that my Uncle Gary could fly a plane, but

it was also kind of normal.

It's what he did.

He was just my Uncle with an airplane.

It's not until I was much older that I realized my Uncle was part of a long tradition of African

American pilots, one full of discrimination and determination.

During the birth of aviation in the early 20th century, black people were kept out of planes

in this country.

In response, aspiring black pilots traveled to Europe.

There's Eugene Jacques Bullard, who flew for the French in World War I and Bessie Coleman,

who made history as the first black female pilot when she received her license in France

...