I am a proud Marine veteran with deep ties to military service. My wife served in the Air Force, my father fought with the Marines in the Second World War, and my grandfather served in the Army in the First World War. I’ve spent much of my life surrounded by fellow veterans, bonded by sacrifice, stories and a belief in the ideals the military represents. My car boasts a Marine Corps decal, and my sense of identity has been forever shaped by the uniform I once wore.

But as I look at today’s political environment — at President Donald Trump, his allies and defence secretary Pete Hegseth — I’m forced to ask a question I never thought I would have to pose: should young Black Americans serve in a military led by people who seem openly hostile to them and the legacy of those who came before them?

My father and grandfather served in segregated units during the world wars. They fought for democracy abroad while being denied it at home. When my grandfather returned to Mississippi from the First World War, he was forced to flee the state by White supremacists who saw his service in France — as a Black man in an unsegregated society — as a threat. My father returned from the Second World War only to be treated like a second-class citizen, denied certain veterans benefits and rights under Jim Crow.

When I served in the 1980s and 1990s, racism still existed in the ranks. But many of us believed we could overcome it through dedication and excellence. We saw leaders such as General Colin Powell rise to the top. My wife earned senior enlisted status in the Air Force. I was quoted in a 1991 Newsweek article, “The Battle for Respect”, about inequality in the military. Speaking that truth came at a cost to my career, but I stood by it then — and still do now. Through it all, I remained proud of my service and the progress we were making.

Under presidents Ronald Reagan, George H.W. Bush, Bill Clinton and George W. Bush, Black service members were not always treated fairly — but we were not treated as enemies of the institution. Today, it appears that’s no longer the case.

Under Trump and Hegseth, the environment for Black service members is deteriorating. To my eyes, the campaign against “wokeism” is not about military readiness or discipline. It’s a thinly veiled attack on diversity, equity and inclusion — values that reflect both the reality of the American people and the strength of a united fighting force.

Trump and his allies have pushed aggressively to defund or eliminate DEI programmes across the military. One of Trump’s first actions was to fire the chairman of the Joint Chiefs of Staff, General Charles Q. Brown Jr, only the second African-American ever to hold that position. Training on racial bias, cultural competency and inclusive leadership has been gutted and labelled “radical”. Officers who speak up about race or systemic injustice are accused of pushing “politics”, while those promoting exclusionary rhetoric are celebrated as patriots.

The message is clear: if you’re Black, Brown or anything other than the old guard — a White male — your presence in the military is conditional and increasingly unwelcome.

More disturbingly, the administration and its ideological allies are erasing the accomplishments of Black service members from the nation’s military narrative. Units such as the 369th Infantry Regiment, known as the Harlem Hellfighters; the Tuskegee Airmen; the Montford Point Marines; and the Buffalo Soldiers are no longer central to the story the military tells about itself. The Pentagon has erased countless photos, videos and articles about these units from its websites — although quickly restoring some, such as the Tuskegee Airmen, in response to an outcry.

This isn’t a side issue — it’s a direct assault on truth and legacy. It’s a denial of the sacrifices of generations of Black Americans who fought and died for a country that did not always return the favour.

Of course, Hegseth and his supporters argue that their opposition to DEI stems from a commitment to fairness and meritocracy. They assert that their aim is to benefit all service members, including Black personnel, by eliminating what they perceive as divisive policies.

But Black service members have historically faced significant barriers to advancement, and these barriers still remain. As of 2023, Black individuals constituted 19.5 per cent of enlisted personnel but only 9.2 per cent of officers. Black officers are particularly underrepresented at the highest levels; only 6.5 per cent of generals are Black. These discrepancies suggest systemic challenges that disproportionately affect promotion outcomes based on race.

DEI initiatives were designed to complement — not replace — meritocracy. They aim to ensure that all service members are evaluated fairly and have equal access to opportunities, thereby strengthening the military as a whole.

So I ask again: why should young Black Americans serve under a government and military leadership that does not respect their presence, their contributions or their history? Why should they risk their lives for a nation unwilling to defend them against racism — or even acknowledge their service in its own historical record?

My experience is that Black Americans who serve are built different. We don’t scare easily. We lead from the front. We serve because we believe in something larger than ourselves. Many of us would give our lives for this country — and have done so.

Service to your country for many Black Americans is also seen as an entrée to the middle class. Whether you served only one enlistment or made it a career, having military service on one’s résumé or job application was seen as a plus for African-Americans whose work ethic and experience were always seemingly in question. The military also provided training and job experience that — especially in the 1950s, 1960s and 1970s — Black Americans were not able to easily obtain in the civilian world. Service provided a twofold bargain for the country and the individual.

But military service is a profound sacrifice. And when that sacrifice is met with hostility, erasure or contempt from political leaders at the highest levels, we must pause and reassess.

Is it still worth it?

Right now, as I watch what is happening, my answer is, sadly, no.

• Phillip E. Thompson, a former judge advocate in the Marine Corps, is a lawyer in Virginia