-Messenger photo by Chad Thompson
Zachariah Nuzum, of Fort Dodge, has emerged as a voice for social change and peace in Fort Dodge after recent marches and a speech he gave during a candelight vigil near Dodger Stadium Tuesday night.

Zachariah Nuzum, of Fort Dodge, wasn’t even scheduled to speak during the candlelight vigil hosted by community leaders Sherry Washington and Lydia Schuur here Tuesday night outside Dodger Stadium.

But nearing the end of the event, as the skies darkened and the raindrops started to fall, the 24-year-old Toledo, Ohio, native said he was compelled to deliver a message.

“I was there to show my support no matter what,” Nuzum said. “As the night was going on, I saw how the night was going. I talked to Charles (Clayton, executive director of Athletics for Education and Success) and Sherry (Washington, president of Pleasant Valley Awareness Committee) and said, ‘Do you mind if I get up and say something?’ And they were very open.

“So when I got up there the only thing I had in mind was the word, ‘community.’ And I saw different colors in the crowd. The crowd was very diverse. There was no looting or chaos going on, yet everyone was gathered together. It was a God moment.”

Although there was a light drizzle, the anticipated heavy rains dissipated.

And in the three minutes that Nuzum spoke, he earned a round of applause, countless positive reactions on social media and gained a friendship in Fort Dodge Assistant Police Chief Cory Husske.

“He just got up there on his own, grabbed the mic and then grabbed our hearts,” Husske said.

Nuzum began his speech by asking the crowd to look around at the local law enforcement on hand.

“Take a look around and look at the men in badges,” Nuzum said. “Are any of these the men who put their knee on George Floyd? Any of them shot Trayvon (Martin)? Any of them kill (Alton) Sterling?

The crowd answered, “No.”

“Fort Dodge can be a leader tonight,” Nuzum said, referring to the protests that have occurred throughout the country following the death of George Floyd while in police custody in Minneapolis. “We can start that. We can show there’s another way to go about the change we seek. We don’t got to start fires; we don’t got to loot. What happened to community? That’s my question.”

Later in the speech, which has now been viewed over 158,000 times and counting on social media, Nuzum asked Husske what his name was and called him by his first name without the title of “officer” attached.

“Hi Cory, nice to meet you,” said Nuzum as he extended his arm from the stage and shook hands with Husske.

Nuzum and Husske had actually encountered each other two nights before that during a protest in downtown Fort Dodge.

Husske was dressed in street clothes.

“What many people don’t know is that I marched on Sunday night with the crowd,” Husske said. “I left my uniform, vest, badge and gun at home and just marched as a human being who has also had enough.

“If I had been in uniform it would have stolen attention away from my true intentions, and it would have taken away from the fact that this was not about me being seen, but others being heard.”

Nuzum remembered Husske’s presence, but not his name.

“He (Husske) said, ‘What can I do?” Nuzum recalled. “That night I didn’t hear his name, but remembered his face and what he said. It’s not about black and white. Black people right now are getting the hard end of the stick. But really it’s about social injustice — how to fix that. We have to be willing to educate and learn about one another.”

Nuzum appreciated Husske’s willingness to have a dialogue.

“He was willing to take the baton and learn and show what he can do,” Nuzum said. “I wanted him to know who I was. It’s not a one-sided thing. Just because officers wear the badge, they have families, too. I am a black man, but that doesn’t define who I am. That’s Officer Cory, but his badge doesn’t define who he is. He defines the badge. And so that’s what I wanted to bring both sides is unity.”

Nuzum, who was adopted at age 2, has been on both sides of the aisle in terms of discrimination.

“My biological parents were influenced in the streets and involved with gang activity,” Nuzum said.

Under his adopted parents’ roof, he shared a house with 24 other children, about half of whom were white.

The family vehicle was a school bus painted red, white and blue.

“As I got older I went back to my biological family,” Nuzum said. “After being with my adopted family and going back to my biological family they said, ‘You’re the whitest black boy.’ But then when I’m with my adopted family, ‘Oh, they adopted a black boy.’

So I experienced both sides. I felt racial tension with black people and racial tension with white people. What I developed was to not hate the person, but hate the act. I don’t hate you, but your words right now.”

For years, Nuzum held a grudge against his biological mother — until one day he let go.

“The biggest thing was when I was 18, forgiving my biological mom,” Nuzum said. “Let go of a lot of hate and resentment, mostly for things I just didn’t understand. I made the decision that I don’t need to understand, so I told myself to let it go.

“I love my families — both sides.”

In terms of social justice, Nuzum said it’s going to take time to make the necessary progress, but it’s a cause worth fighting for.

“I don’t want my kids to inherit my fear of a corrupt system,” said Nuzum, a father of twins. “I am willing to see this thing through to the end. And that’s all we need. We may not have all the answers, but we are willing to learn and willing to get to know each other.”

After the speech Tuesday night, Husske embraced Nuzum.

“I totally got caught up in the moment and I forgot about social distancing,” Husske said. “Zac’s words touched my heart and when he got off the stage the only thing I was thinking is, ‘I need a hug from that guy.'”

Nuzum moved to Fort Dodge when he was 17. He works at Yacht Club Trailers in Humboldt.

“I’ve made good friends, got a good job and stayed in Fort Dodge,” Nuzum said. “It’s not my original home, but it feels like home.”

Having children of his own changed his perspective.

“It just stops being about you,” Nuzum said. “It’s not about me anymore; it’s about those two.”

Events in his own life led him to a moment of influence Tuesday night.

“God has been good to me, and if he can forgive me for my thoughts and things I have done, why can’t I forgive people — black or white — for things that they have done?” he said. “I feel God has given me the tools to be a voice in a situation like this.”