The Woolworth's Sit-Ins

Only sixty years ago, our town, like much of the south, was in the middle of its own pain. Jim Crow laws had allowed states and communities to practice legal segregation under the guise of “separate but equal.” While clearly separating “coloreds” from “whites”, the results of that separation were anything but equal. Many times, these laws would be enforced by racist vigilantes before they were ever enforced by local law enforcement. Law enforcement would take a protester to jail; a vigilante would degrade a protester through physical and emotional violence.

Fabulous & Fierce

It’s mid-afternoon on St. Patrick’s Day, and West Alley BBQ is a beehive. Residual customers grab a late lunch, employees make preparations in anticipation of a busy evening, and I sit to one side, shuffling through my bag to find a notepad. I am late for the interview, but I had told her I would be. When I walked in, the fellow said she was waiting for me, which I tried not to feel bad about, knowing neither he nor she was upset.

Pioneers in Reconciliation

The year was 1968. Martin Luther King Jr. was assassinated, Jackson City Hall had separate drinking fountains for "colored" people and "white" people, and Union University and Lane College were still neighbors downtown.It was a crisp fall night in the middle of basketball season. Camille Long was one of only four African-Americans in the bleachers of the Union University gym, including the fellow Lane College student she'd dragged with her.

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.