A Stone of Remembrance

George Santayana said, “Those who cannot remember the past are doomed to repeat it.” Like any place, Jackson, Tennessee, has its fair share of history, some things worth celebrating and others worth mourning, but all are worth remembering so that we can move forward in hope for change. One of those historically significant events for our community (and hundreds of others across the U.S.) is the brutal lynching of African Americans—not just one, but three. Jacksonians Jesse and Mary Chandler Wooten gave birth to a daughter in 1883.

StoriesGuest ContributorMarch 8, 2019Jackson TN, Tennessee, Cindy Boyles, Jackson-Madison County Community Remembrance Project, racism, reconciliation, George Santayana, lynching, murder, African American, Eliza Woods, Jesse Wooten, Mary Chandler Wooten, Rev. George Hinkle, St. Luke's Episcopal Church, Civil War, slavery, poison, Sheriff B.A. Person, Hu Anderson, Robert Cartmell, white supremacy, The Tennessean, New York Times, Ida B. Wells, J.R. Rushing, Eastside Cemetery, Centennial Park, John Brown, Frank Ballard, Equal Justice Initiative, EJI, justice, equality, Indivisible Jackson, Jackson State Community College, Legacy Museum, Montgomery AL, National Memorial for Peace and Justice, Maya Angelou, memorial, Mayor Jerry Gist, courthouse, Black History Month, Lauren Kirk, Women's History Month, Melanie Taylor, Mike Booth, A Night of Storytelling, A Night of Storytelling Spring 2019

Tilling For Grace

I was born in Jackson thirty-two years ago to an African-American father and a Hispanic mother. Our city was a very different place back then. In fact, it was less of a city and more a small town, with a far less diverse population. Growing up I didn’t have many friends that looked like me, and it was made abundantly clear by my peers that I was going to have to choose a side. But choosing was never really an option for me.

Setting the Table

Imagine a table. There are many faces, both black and white, seated around that table. Everyone present wants their stories to be heard and their hardships to be acknowledged. Rightfully so. Sometimes I have the honor of sitting at that table. I sit beside my husband Charles and my best friend Melanie. Naturally, I gravitate toward their voices in conversations on racial reconciliation in our city.

A Human Trafficking Rescue Mission

On a road trip across the state, three friends stopped for gas. With limited money for food, one of the girls decided to sell herself to truckers to pick up some extra cash for gas. She broadcasted herself over a trucker’s CB radio, but the plan wasn’t that easy. She was left beaten behind the gas station with several broken bones.