Bria Vaughn
Staff Writer
From growing up in the inner city where faith and struggle lived side by side to walking the path toward priesthood, Robert Hunter has dedicated his life to service, faith, and community.
His journey is one of listening to the voices of his ancestors while carving out spaces for himself in places where Black men are often overlooked. His story is a testament to Black actualization— self-definition and spiritual, emotional, and intellectual wholeness. Through his work, he embodies what it means to move with purpose— to step fully into his calling despite a world that tries to limit him.
Hunter, an alumnus of Broward College, describes himself as a sweet potato. “How the potato was cooked determines how much you’re going to enjoy it,” he explains. “Sometimes, in my life, I allowed the heat to cook me too long, and it dried up my soul. But sometimes, things are okay— hot and delicious. Then there are seasons where you truly reap the benefits of life. You add the brown sugar and spices, you reach abundance. You get candied yams.”
For Robert, life has been a process of transformation, shaped by the people who came before him and the community that continues to uplift him.
He faced many challenges. To excel in higher education was anything but easy. He spent eight consecutive years pursuing his degree—never taking a semester off.
“I had a full-ride scholarship for sports at FAU, flunked out, took out loans—it took me eight years to get my bachelor’s,” he admits.
He kept going, semester after semester, navigating financial challenges, academic hurdles, and personal struggles. But quitting was never part of the equation. His perseverance was not about blind determination, he felt he had no other choice.
“I wasn’t steadfast; I just didn’t see another option.” His dedication paid off when he not only earned his degree but returned to his alma mater as a college advisor, guiding students who, like him, needed someone to see their potential.
“The scripture says, ‘How will they know if they have no teacher?’” Robert shares. “If someone never meets another Christian in their life, I want them to be able to say, ‘Robert never treated me badly.’”
One of his greatest joys has been working with students, particularly those who have been overlooked by society. Whether through feeding the unhoused, being a foster parent, volunteering at local schools, or simply being a presence for those who need guidance, his mission is clear: to give back in the way his ancestors gave to him.
His earliest memories of faith are tied to the traditions of the Black church. “Everybody went to church on Sundays,” he recalls. “If you weren’t in church, you were still in something tied to it— praying before football games, going to youth ministry, or volunteering.” But while faith was ever-present, so were the unspoken expectations placed on Black boys. “Being stoic, never letting anybody see you cry, learning to suffer quietly—those were just the rules,” he said.
Even as he grew into manhood, he felt the weight of those expectations. He saw how Black men were either idolized in certain spaces—on the football field, for example—or feared in others. “I look like the players everybody loves on TV, but they’d lock their doors if they saw me in a parking lot,” he said.
But rather than let the world define him, Hunter leaned deeper into his calling.
His commitment to service is rooted in his connection to his ancestors. “I think about my great-grandparents, about the ones who lived and died before them,” he said. “There are skills, traditions, and ways of being that traveled through my bloodline, even if I never met them.”
His path to Catholicism wasn’t a sharp turn, but a gradual return to something that had always been present. “I went to a Catholic high school, grew up going to church with my grandparents, and kept volunteering at Catholic schools,” he said. “Protestant Christianity and Catholicism are really compatible in lifestyle, but the Catholic community felt more tight knit.”
Despite his deep faith, he has not been immune to the racism embedded in religious spaces. “Just last year, in 2024, I saw someone come to church in Blackface,” he said, shaking his head. Even in places meant for worship, Black people are often reminded of their perceived “otherness.” But rather than let it deter him, he remains firm in his calling.
“Many states are just now having their first Black American priest—or have never had one,” he points out. His presence in the priesthood is not just personal—it is historical. His decision to step into this role is an act of Black actualization in itself—a refusal to be erased, a choice to exist fully and claim his space in a system that has long excluded people like him.
Hunter’s life is a testament to the fact that Black history is not confined to the past—it is being written every day, in every choice we make, in every space we refuse to be pushed out of.
In a time when Black history is being erased from textbooks, when institutions attempt to silence voices, he understands the urgency of standing firm in his truth.
And for those searching for their place in the world, he offers this:
“Accept the world for what it is. This world is dangerous for Black men, and the consequences of ignorance are fatal. Learn the rules, and then learn how to bend them in your favor.”
His journey is one of sacred liberation—a commitment to faith, to community, and to the radical act of existing fully in a world that often tries to diminish us.
Caption: Photo Courtesy of Robert Hunter