Kevin Gray: Columbia activist, business owner, writer - and my friend | Opinion

I wanted to start writing about my friend Kevin Alexander Gray with a poignant quote, but I don’t have one. Gray was a political writer, activist, Black business owner, father, and ambassador for Columbia. He probably would cringe if I opted for conventional writing tropes, even if it’s me saying how much I admired him.

I got news of his passing from texting a friend after he saw it on Twitter. I didn’t see any other mentions of it, and for a moment, it gave me comfort, hoping it wasn’t true. Unfortunately, I discovered that the rumor was true, and Columbia’s radiance dimmed overnight.

Kevin was a whirlwind of a man who didn’t suffer fools but had a warmth that was as sincere as going to your favorite Uncle’s house. I met Kevin almost 20 years ago at the Sounds Familiar Record store on Parklane. We both were sporting locks then, and we started a conversation as if he was feeling me out talking about Black music greats, writers, and creatives. It felt like a test I was happy to pass.

If Kevin approved of you and your work, that was a beautiful place to be. I would joke with him, telling him, “Anything you need, I will never tell you no,” and the response, when he would call, is, “Preach, I’m calling; you know I need something!”

It was never as a slight it but rather him acknowledging our duty: If an injustice needed our voices to amplify, he expected me to contribute. Everything I would write, including this, Kevin, was my moral compass.

Over the years, I volunteered, lent my voice, words, or time because Kevin asked. And while I tried my best to be a contributor to all things righteous in Columbia, he was the best at it.

I admired his ability with words, cutting straight to the point, and he was fearless.

I would write about challenging topics concerning race, police, and politics, and getting a text or call from him saying, “I read your article,” always felt like confirmation I needed. I wanted his acknowledgment, his praise, and, when required, his criticism. It was never an older man shaking a fist. He only spoke with passion because he gave a damn and wanted you to.

His talents could have him choose any place in the world as his home, but he stayed here as an intentional decision. He saw the brilliance of a BBQ joint when I initially thought it would be a money pit. He understood the importance of having places for camaraderie to occur, and Railroad BBQ is a museum for all things Black and brilliant about my home. You see the walls and swell with pride.

That’s why I wanted Railroad BBQ to be the backdrop when it was time to have a family reunion. It was the first time some of my family were in the same room in years, and my father and Kevin hit it off in a way that seasoned Black men growing up here could understand. I remember his excitement about the future, from wanting to write more to his goals with the Earnest A. Finney cultural arts center. He was genuinely happy.

I remember grabbing a picture with my father, Kevin, and my family claiming, “We could be related” due to the resemblance. We were kin that day. He felt like family because he was.

Preach Jacobs is a two-time South Carolina Press Association award winner for column writing, a hip-hop artist and DJ.