Being sick with COVID was one of the most terrifying things I’ve experienced.

COVID doesn’t feel like any kind of illness I’ve had in the past. The effect it has on the body is hard to explain. The scariest thing about it is that no one really knows how it’s going to affect you. Sure, there are standard symptoms associated with it, such as loss of senses and fever, but the type and severity of symptoms vary on a case-by-case basis.

The constant feeling of chest pressure and nausea caused me the most discomfort. I wasn’t taking adequate breath and suffered from sinus drainage, body aches and chronic fatigue that had me down in bed for days at a time. I didn’t even realize how long I was sleeping. My days melted together, and I constantly checked the date on my phone to see how long I slept.

Being sick took a financial toll on me due to the amount of time I was out from work during quarantine. However, the time away from the daily rat race also gave me the opportunity to think and reflect on my goals in life, which got me back on track with the future I envisioned for myself and my family. I found renewed motivation for all of my endeavors, and now new opportunities await.

A Boom in Entrepreneurship

COVID-19 drastically changed much of the day-to-day operations of society. The vast effects of this virus changed the way children are educated. This pandemic also disturbed regular socialization among friends and peers, while creating a major boom in entrepreneurship throughout the Black community.

The Great Resignation, the current mass exodus of workers from a variety of job industries, created a new generation of entrepreneurs. Citizens received several lump sums of money from the government (stimulus checks) and used those funds to start a number of businesses in the Black community, which is similar to the change in American culture following the return of soldiers from World War 2.

Many of us now realize that we can’t rely on just having a job in the modern era (although side-hustle culture has been a prevalent ideology for at least three to five years). Many of us dived headfirst into entrepreneurship and decided to take control of our financial growth.

I didn’t resign from my job, but coming face to face with mortality helped to ignite my personal motivation and increase my personal grind. I’ve decided to devote more time to building my marketing and consulting firm, M. Morrow Mediaworks, and I have been crushing every goal set for myself since contracting COVID-19. I realize that tomorrow isn’t promised; in concrete terms, this mindset seems to be a good cure for procrastination.

It’s interesting to see the backlash against people leaving their jobs for better opportunities and working for themselves, especially considering these were common recommendations whenever people spoke about the lack of workplace quality. The service industry was hit hardest and for so long, patrons have abused fast-food workers, and some rallied against tipping while acting as though these frontline workers were expendable.

Now those detractors see the truth and have to deal with longer wait times, underwhelming meal quality and potential closure of some of their favorite eateries. I guess you never know what you had until it’s gone. Now, our society is having to make some quick adjustments as we move toward a new world.

‘In the Midst of An Evolutionary Era’

There is constant division when I go online these days, whether it be a battle of the sexes, trash takes on celebrity news, who’s responsible for COVID numbers rising now that vaccines have been released to the public or polarized talk of the “senseless” violence plaguing the city of Jackson. It has truly lessened my enjoyment of being online and interacting with others.

People had a wealth of free time on their hands for the majority of 2020, which led to many picking up a variety of new hobbies and interests. The video-game industry boomed, streaming services soared, side-hustle culture reached new heights, content creators flourished, and people became some of the most baffling creatures imaginable while using social media as a platform.

I used to see social media as a place where ignorance and division were challenged; these days it’s defended and uplifted. I miss the intellectual stimulation and conversation I would find online on a daily basis without having to dig as deep. Now, it seems to be all about clout, likes, and going viral by posting memes and problematic hot takes under the guise of creating meaningful dialogue.

These days, I usually indulge in commentary videos on various topics at “YouTube University.” This helps me see the reality of how social media has evolved into a platform where ignorance spreads like wildfire due to many people reassuring negative ideologies, refusing to look at things from a new perspective.

Society is in the midst of an evolutionary era. So many ideas, lifestyles and political discussions are being brought to the mainstream consciousness. However, it seems the ability to empathize and think critically are becoming lost arts.

As the country and world continues to change, we must be willing to put effort into understanding why these things are happening, even if it doesn’t lead to personal acceptance.

This MFP Voices essay does not necessarily represent the views of the Mississippi Free Press, its staff or board members. To submit an essay for the MFP Voices section, send up to 1,200 words and factcheck information to azia@mississippifreepress.org. We welcome a wide variety of viewpoints.

Domestic violence is an oppressive act with many harmful effects.

Imagine your partner abusing and tearing you down. Then, imagine freeing yourself from the abuse just to find out that the economic system is equally oppressive. For a victim, freedom from abuse isn’t quite free when your wages do not cover your basic needs. This must stop. Are we living in a different century?

Economic Impacts of Domestic Violence

Domestic and dating violence, or intimate partner violence, referred to as IPV, is a common reality that has short- and long-term negative effects on survivors’ economic security and independence. Survivors’ economic needs often drive them to stay with abusers longer, leading to increased economic abuse, injuries and even fatalities.

Domestic violence has economic impacts on survivors throughout their lifetimes. Additionally, women living in poverty experience domestic violence at twice the rate of those who do not, which furthers the causal relationship between abuse and economic hardship.

A survivor may be forced to stay with an abuser due to concerns about economic stability and the impact of the gender wage gap. The National Intimate Partner and Sexual Violence Survey of 2012 says that three out of four victims stayed with their abusers longer for economic reasons. Of the 85% of victims who returned to their abusers, a significant number attributed an inability to control and manage their finances. Equal pay would cut poverty among working women and their families by more than half, adding approximately $513 billion to the national economy.

In 2019, Mississippi women who were full-time wage and salary workers had an average usual weekly earnings of $669, or 80.6% of the $830 average usual weekly earnings of their male counterparts. By 2020, the national pay gap was 82 cents. That’s how much women in the U.S. who work full time, year-round are paid for every dollar paid to men.

The pay gap for Black women in Mississippi is even more dire, 56 cents to the dollar. Like all women, survivors of domestic violence (who are predominantly women), would benefit from equal-pay initiatives. Survivors’ ability to gain financial stability and independence is hindered as long as women make less than men for performing the same work. This is why survivors often have to rely on financial support from an abuser longer than necessary.

Low-Wage Workers Are Prone to Exploitation

Increasing the minimum wage will also better enable survivors, and all women, to build assets to help them and their families meet daily and long-term needs. A low minimum wage disproportionately affects women because women, especially women of color, are more likely to hold low-wage jobs than men.

Low-wage workers are also particularly vulnerable to exploitation (low wages, wage theft, unsafe working conditions, domestic and sexual violence, no opportunities for advancement, etc.). Limited skills, inadequate education, language ability, and immigration status make workers more vulnerable to exploitation and less likely to challenge it for fear of retaliation, including job loss, sexual violence and deportation.

Wage inequality makes it difficult for domestic-violence survivors to earn livable wages for a single earner. Pay equity benefits all families, but is especially crucial for families in crisis who rely on the wages of a single earner. When survivors of domestic violence have stable access to resources that help them build economic resiliency, they and their families are more likely to remain safe and secure. It just makes sense because survivor safety is directly linked to survivor economic security.

As the executive director of Mississippi Coalition Against Domestic Violence, I need you to look at the facts in supporting equal pay. The benefits are clear.

Take a stand, communicate the impact and work with local organizations to support this cause. Know that together, we have the strength! Let’s put an end to economic inequality.

This MFP Voices essay does not necessarily represent the views of the Mississippi Free Press, its staff or board members. To submit an essay for the MFP Voices section, send up to 1,200 words and factcheck information to azia@mississippifreepress.org. We welcome a wide variety of viewpoints.

This story originally appeared in the Mississippi Free Press. The Mississippi Free Press is a statewide nonprofit news outlet that provides most of its stories free to other media outlets to republish. Write shaye@mississippifreepress.org for information.

Dear JFP Readers:

We have big news from the world of the Jackson Free Press. Much of it is positive, and some of it is simply inevitable in the face of COVID-19 and how the delta variant has affected us here in Mississippi.

For starters, the tough news: As of the October 2021 issue, I'm announcing that the Jackson Free Press is on hiatus from its print edition.

Make no mistake—we continue to cover local news and events on the website and publish the JFP Daily newsletter to our 16,000+ subscribers five days per week. We're moving forward with a plan to overhaul the JFP.ms website (over the next few months) and the BestofJackson.com website (almost immediately) with new, exciting tools. As always, we plan to run a Best of Jackson 2022 contest this fall, with winners announced Feb. 1. You may have seen that we've updated calendar.jacksonfreepress.com, and there will be even more fun changes there soon.

Advertising revenue is at an all-time low for the JFP, particularly with venues and nonprofits again in flux because of the pandemic. Regular advertisers have had to drop or scale back: Museums, nonprofits, music venues and others that are traditional partners with the JFP in years past haven't yet been able to come back from COVID and advertise again. That said, we appreciate all of the organizations and businesses that we still call partners in the endeavor, and we anticipate they'll be a part of what we're doing online for a long time to come.

At the same time, the market and external forces have raised the price of newsprint considerably just in the past year. Put together, it just makes financial sense for the JFP to take a break from printing to find a way to continue reporting both local news and essential culture and entertainment stories.

Oh—and JFP has had some of its highest online traffic during the pandemic, both because of the amazing work of our staff and, no doubt, the number of people who have changed up their method for reading news since the pandemic hit.

We hope that printing will come back for the JFP—and soon, if Mississippi recovers better from COVID than it has this summer—but more important to us is that our loyal staff is mainly unaffected by these changes. That's true, in part, because the statewide Mississippi Free Press, which Donna Ladd and Kimberly Griffin launched in March 2020 as the pandemic hit, is thriving as a separate publication and needs the talents of JFP staffers. So, as of now, some of them are splitting their day between two separate jobs for MFP and JFP (such as Dustin Cardon, Nate Schumann and Kayode Crown), while others have joined the MFP full-time. These changes enable us to avoid layoffs and help maintain the JFP's ability to do daily journalism while adding to MFP's abilities to grow their own award-winning journalism—and more.

Jackson Free Press also continues to grow via our JFP Digital Services offerings, helping many small businesses with their Web presence while empowering local nonprofits to become "publishers" in their own right. We're proud of the help we offer "changemakers" in Mississippi by working with them to fill their web, email newsletter, and social-media channels with impactful communication to their constituents and supporters. If you'd like to learn more, please write me at todd@jacksonfreepress.com.

I couldn't possibly end this without a shout-out to the more than 600 JFP VIPs who have supported us with their membership, especially since the pandemic hit. Your support has made it possible (along with government emergency programs and grants from Facebook and Google) for the JFP to support our staff and continue to provide impactful, award-winning journalism through the pandemic.

When we first left our offices after the pandemic hit in spring 2020, advertisers were closing down and canceling, and I was scrambling to collect a few checks from those remaining. I honestly didn't think we would survive the month. But the outpouring of support from readers and supporters—followed by the rapid movement of government and corporate resources to help local business—helped us to thrive, at least given the circumstances, these past 18 months.

Now JFP enters a leaner chapter—our 20th year—and we have no plans to go away. We do have to continue changing how we operate while keeping our highest goal in mind by holding the powerful to account and keeping a watchdog eye on government and the influential.

If you can support us as a JFP VIP as we navigate these waters, please visit jfp.ms/vip.

And whether you’re a JFP VIP or not, we sincerely thank you for being a JFP reader. We look forward to your continued readership for a long, long time.

Todd Stauffer, Founding Publisher

This journey all started in 2002 upstairs in a one-bedroom apartment on Fortification Street next to La Cazuela. I had moved back to Mississippi in 2001, dragging Todd Stauffer with me as we Mississippi folks tend to do to those we love, thinking I would write a book and have a cheap home base to travel from for freelance journalism. Three months after we moved into a Belhaven duplex and rented the Fortification one for me to write in (hey, we were used to NYC rental prices), Sept. 11 happened, changing the world and our work-travel plans.

We were already awestruck by the potential of a capital city filled with brilliant and loving and often neglected people, and thinking it needed a newspaper that would serve every ZIP code, every neighborhood. Papers here then either only targeted readers of one race or outright pandered to the suburbs (and their crime hysteria and racist anxieties) for the most ad dollars they could grab, much of it being shipped to shareholders out of state.

So we did this thing, naming it for a Jackson civil-rights newspaper started by Black leaders Medgar Evers and R.L.T. Smith and others, and printed by a beleaguered white publisher Hazel Brannon Smith, whom wealthy whites basically boycotted out of existence and livelihood.

We didn’t have deep pockets. Todd, Stephen Barnette, Jimmy Mumford, Bingo Holman and I started it literally on a small kitchen table, with Alisa Price joining us to sell ads, Jaro Vacek to snap pics, with Tony DiFatta’s covers. Eager volunteers showed up, and later paid staff. White people would call up and whisper, “Is this a Black paper?” because we put Black people on the cover for reasons other than crime or sports. A bunch of whiny north Jackson conservative men started coming after us on the website and, yes, calling for boycotts (unsuccessfully since our readers buy cars, theater tickets and martinis, too).

Todd and I drove from barber and beauty shops to BBQ and fried-fish joints all over Jackson in a raggedy Toyota Tercel to ask them to distribute our newspaper. Yes, we got funny looks—who are these people!?—but within months we’d get calls asking for their JFPs if they were late.

I was thinking about that first office a lot last week. With our tiny team, we’d stay up all night to lay the paper out. One night, Art Director Jimmy Mumford (who designed it remotely from home) messaged about 2 a.m.: “I’ll be asleep on the floor whenever you’re ready.”

It was 6 a.m. after an all-nighter when the power went down just as we were about to send a big story to the printer. Bleary-eyed Todd sheepishly admitted that he might’ve forgotten to pay the bill. Suddenly, Stephen disappeared, and the lights came back on. I still don’t want to know.

But I’ve mostly been thinking about Miss S and Dr. S. Miss S was a tailless cat I saved at the Fortification “office.” She was a calico mix of colors with thick fur of all heights with Cleopatra eyeliner around her annoyed eyes. She was carrying a dead kitten when I first got her to the vet. She became our mascot, sleeping on the printer because it was warm and regularly telling us all off in little scratchy meow spurts that reminded me of my mama’s beautician who smoked too much. I always said Miss S owned a beauty shop in a former life.

Miss S tolerated most of us—but she was obsessed with her only real love.

Dr. S was the nom de plume for Charles Corder, my friend from Mississippi State who had been my editor at The Reflector for a hot minute. We had reconnected after I moved back when he was stuck in a copy-editing job at The Clarion-Ledger that he hated. He was fascinated that we were starting a new kind of newspaper and started hanging out at the office. Or with Miss S, I should say.

Those two adored each other. As mean and snippy as she could be with the rest of us unworthy subjects, Charles was her main squeeze. He’d lumber in the door saying “heyyyy” as he always did, and she would drop on her back and purr lovingly to him. I was embarrassed for her.

Charles, my favorite curmudgeon ever, was a sports fanatic, and we always talked about starting a smart, more journalistic sports publication in Mississippi one day, but never had enough funds to do it. I couldn’t afford to hire him away from the Ledger, so he volunteered for the JFP, calling himself Dr. S and writing our rather sarcastic sports roundups back then. This was before media collaboration was even considered in this cutthroat business, so his employer (where he edited, not wrote) didn’t know he was doing it.

Doc would infuriate sports fans; most thought he was Todd—you know, S as in Stauffer. I doubt anyone ever guessed right. I don’t usually publish writers without real names, but I made an exception for Charles because he seemed to need to do it, to be a part of an exciting new journalism venture even in a small way. He also volunteered to start our events calendar, doing the tedious work of gathering and editing endless blurbs for a while.

Over time, Doc would move on from the Ledger and serve as the managing editor of the Greenwood Commonwealth, a better use of his talents, and eventually retire with serious health issues. Regretfully, we never got to do our sports publication together, and I haven’t seen him nearly enough in recent years, especially during the pandemic. I work all the time, and he was surrounded by loving family.

It punched me in the stomach to hear recently that Dr. S died from COVID-19 far too young. Since then, I’ve been reliving those early JFP days when we all were determined to make this crazy thing work one way or the other. It was fun, and it was stressful, but the JFP is still here. And now the statewide Mississippi Free Press is here, too—another dream for 19 years. I also plan to bring the Youth Media Project back when it’s safe for teens to gather.

I dedicate this first 19 years to Charles Corder, Herman Snell, Stephen, Jimmy, Alisa, Bingo, staffers over the years, advertisers who got it, and all of you who have believed in this vision and helped us in so many ways. Mississippians can do so much when we decide to build together rather than tear others down. Thank you.

Correction: The original version of this story said Hazel Brannon Smith's first name was "Helen," which Donna Ladd is well aware is not the case. She apologizes for this error.

Follow Donna Ladd on Twitter at @donnerkay and visit mississippifreepress.org if you haven’t. Follow it at @msfreepress.

As an organizer for the Student Nonviolent Coordinating Committee during the 1960s, Bob Moses traveled to the most dangerous parts of Mississippi to help African Americans end segregation and secure the right to vote. But it would be tutoring students in math 20 years later at his daughter’s racially mixed middle school in Massachusetts that would lead to his life’s work—The Algebra Project.

The Algebra Project is a nonprofit dedicated to helping students from historically marginalized communities develop math literacy, which is an individual’s ability to formulate, employ and interpret mathematics in a variety of contexts. Moses founded it in 1982.

After researching Moses’ role in the civil rights movement for my book—“Bloody Lowndes: Civil Rights and Black Power in Alabama’s Black Belt”—and later interviewing him for various projects about SNCC, it became abundantly clear that The Algebra Project sprang directly from his civil rights work in Mississippi. That work helped transform Mississippi from a segregationist stronghold into a focal point of the civil rights revolution.

In his book “Radical Equations,” Moses recalls that in 1982 he was surprised to discover that his daughter, Maisha, who was entering the eighth grade at the Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr. School in Cambridge, Mass., would not be taught algebra because the school did not offer it. Without knowledge of algebra, she could not qualify for honors math and science classes in high school.

Math Endeavors

As explained in his book, Moses had a background in mathematics. In 1957, before joining the civil rights movement, he earned a master’s degree in philosophy at Harvard University and then taught middle school math for a few years in the Bronx, N.Y., at Horace Mann School, a prestigious private school just north of where he grew up in Harlem. And from 1969 to 1976, he taught algebra in Tanzania before returning stateside to work on a doctorate in the philosophy of math.

Moses asked Maisha’s teacher if he could provide his daughter with supplemental math lessons in class since Maisha refused to be tutored at home—she opposed doing what she called “two maths.” The teacher consented, but on the condition that Moses instruct some of Maisha’s classmates as well, according to his book.

Moses agreed. Like the teacher, he believed that all children, including those from historically marginalized communities, deserved a chance to take advanced math and science classes in high school.

At the end of the school year, Maisha and the three students who studied with her passed the citywide algebra exam. They were the first from their school to do so, according to his book.

Excited by this success, Maisha’s teacher asked Moses to work his math magic with more students.

But it wasn’t magic.

Moses succeeded in teaching algebra to the students who were frequently tracked into less rigorous classes and courses of study because he believed that Black, brown, working-class and poor children could master algebra—or other advanced classes—even at an early age.

He also knew that these same students would be eager to study math if instruction revolved around their lived experiences. Rote memorization would not work; content had to be relatable.

Moses agreed to teach the incoming eighth graders, even though none of his children were in the class. “I was beginning to think I had found my work,” he wrote in “Radical Equations.” And his work was teaching math literacy in the emerging digital age.

Key To A Better Life

Moses believed that math proficiency was a gateway to equality in a post-industrial society. He explained in 2007: “In our society, algebra is the place where we ask students to master a quantitative literacy requirement. And so hence, algebra becomes available as an organizing tool now for educational rights and for economic rights.” In other words, math literacy would provide access to the kinds of computer-driven careers that would enable African Americans, and other historically marginalized youth, to permanently improve their life circumstances and the social and economic conditions of their communities.

But Moses wasn’t interested in teaching just a few students, much as he wasn’t interested in registering just a few Black Mississippians. He wanted to instruct as many young people as possible, in the same way he wanted to organize as many Black people in Mississippi as possible.

Reaching more youth, however, required a dramatic shift in the culture of learning at the school. Expectations regarding when young children from marginalized groups should study algebra had to change, which was no small task considering many children weren’t expected to study algebra at all.

Just as he once organized sharecroppers, he began organizing parents.

Emphasis on Independence

In the civil rights movement, Moses routinely deferred to the wishes and desires of the people he was organizing, so much so that he left the movement in 1965 when he felt people were turning to him too often for solutions to their problems. This was the approach of his mentor, veteran activist and SNCC adviser Ella Baker, who led by asking questions, rather than by providing answers.

Moses talked to parents at the school about the lack of opportunities to take algebra, which, he recalled, led them to initiate a survey that showed that—as explained in his book—“All parents thought their child should do algebra, but not all parents thought that every child should do algebra.”

The parents were shocked and somewhat embarrassed by the survey results, leading to a consensus for allowing any seventh or eighth grader to take algebra.

Only two years after Moses’ daughter passed the citywide exam, the King school offered algebra to students in the seventh and eighth grades, and even provided Saturday classes for parents.

Today, The Algebra Project is fighting to ensure students receive the quality math education they deserve by supporting learning cohorts in dozens of schools across the country where students have historically performed poorly in math on eighth grade state tests. The impact of the project at Mansfield Senior High School in Mansfield, Ohio, is illustrative. In the eighth grade, the math proficiency of The Algebra Project cohort was 17%. By the 10th grade, that number had risen to 82%.

Ella Baker was fond of saying, “Give light and people will find the way.” Few did that better than Bob Moses, who died on July 25, 2021.

This piece was published in cooperation with The Conversation, an independent, nonprofit publisher of commentary and analysis, authored by academics on timely topics related to their research.

This story originally appeared in the Mississippi Free Press. The Mississippi Free Press is a statewide nonprofit news outlet that provides most of its stories free to other media outlets to republish. Write shaye@mississippifreepress.org for information.

It’s hard to believe that summer vacation is nearly over. Schools all over the Jackson area will be opening their doors and welcoming their students back in the next couple of weeks. For the kids, teachers, administrators, and others whose days revolve around schools, lessons, homework and such, it’s time to squeeze the last bits of fun and/or leisure out of summer break and start gearing up for the new school year.

After the strangeness of the last school year—not to mention the one before that, which ended unexpectedly early for many—I think most everyone is hoping for some normalcy. With the delta variant gaining ground around us, though, it remains to be seen how that’s going to play out. Normalcy may still be quite a way in the future.

It doesn’t have to be that way, though. We have the means to end this pandemic that has taken so many from us and, for those of us fortunate enough to simply be inconvenienced, been such a previously unimaginable disruption to our lives. We’ve been blessed to receive an effective vaccine in a remarkably short amount of time.

Outbreaks of disease have ravaged civilizations since civilizations have existed. In all of those outbreaks throughout history, people have died, and other people have been left behind to mourn them, because there was no other option. They were helpless and at the mercy of the disease. We, on the other hand, have been given the means to put this pandemic behind us and get on with our lives, and yet many people, for one reason or another, won’t take it.

I’ve lived in Mississippi my whole life—well, except for a few years in Texas when I was in seminary. All the people whom I have loved and looked up to, and who shaped me into the person I am, were life-long Mississippians. So, I know something about Mississippians, and they are not, generally speaking, selfish people.

Mississippians are people who care about their neighbors and take care of one another. They bring casseroles and show up for funerals. After a tornado or hurricane, they work together to cut up downed trees and make sure everyone has a roof over their head. They share vegetables from their gardens. They ask how your mama’s doing and actually care about the answer.

So, it didn’t make sense to me that they would let their neighbors suffer—and contribute to the problem even—rather than help put a stop to it. Then it occurred to me: they must not know.

I think that too many people don’t realize that it’s not about you or me, but us. I don’t think it’s been explained often enough in a way that people understand how much of an “us” thing it really is. Someone explained it to me this way, and it made me think, “Why haven’t they been telling us this?” Maybe it will make as much sense to someone reading this as it did to me.

Let’s think of the virus as an animal. It’s not a perfect analogy. Viruses aren’t animals. In fact, there’s debate about whether they qualify as being alive. And they don’t literally feed on their host, but they do require a host to survive, and they use the cells of that host to multiply. So, as I said, the analogy isn’t perfect, but it helps me to get my brain around the idea.

This virus-animal is out there among us, attacking everyone it encounters. It doesn’t attack people because it’s a horrible, evil animal. It attacks to survive. It has to eat, or it will die. So, it finds an unprotected person, attacks, feeds off them, and then what? It multiplies. Now there are two animals, and they go off to find two more people to attack. They feed, and multiply, and go on to find four more people. And so forth, and so on, doubling in number every time. (I should probably point out here that I’m only saying “doubling” for the sake of the illustration. In reality, the Delta variant of this virus is thought to spread, on average, to five to eight people from each infected person. That changes the math pretty drastically.)

Now, if the animal attacks a person who is protected, his attack is not as successful. The protected person’s immune system fights him off, he doesn’t eat, and he dies. He doesn’t multiply. He doesn’t go on to attack two more people. Even if he does manage to get his claws into a protected person—no form of protection is 100% effective­—it’s a weakened attack. The protected person is armed, puts up a fight, and in all likelihood will be able to defeat him. He won’t get a full meal, and he’ll be far less likely to multiply and move on. So, the animal will still likely die.

The more people who are protected, the fewer opportunities the animal has to feed and multiply, and the more he dies. (I told you it wasn’t a perfect analogy.) Eventually, if we don’t offer him any significant food source, we can starve him out. That’s when this thing will be over, and we can get back to normal.

This is the important, love-your-neighbor part, though: Every unvaccinated person offers the hungry virus-animal a chance to feed, and to multiply and to attack your neighbors. Most of those neighbors will survive, but some won’t. I don’t believe Mississippians—not the kind I know and love, anyway—are people who can live with that.

The Veterans Memorial Stadium in Jackson is an outdoor venue originally built in 1950 and later expanded in 1980. Fit for the finest of athletes, the huge facility presently has a seating capacity of 60,492.

The Jackson State University Tigers have owned the stadium since Gov. Haley Barbour signed the bill on July 1, 2011, bequeathing it to the Tigers from the Department of Finance and Business. This is the 10-year anniversary of the flagship university acquiring ownership of the stadium.

The matchup between Mississippi universities that yielded the current record for attendance at the Veterans Memorial Stadium Record was Mississippi Valley State University versus Alcorn State University on Nov. 7, 1984, with 64,308 fans in attendance. At this point in the season, the Mississippi Valley Delta Devils were 7-0 and Alcorn University Braves 6-0.

Veteran San Francisco 49ers wide receiver Jerry Rice boasts a number of game-play records, such as a single game with 294 yards and five touchdown catches against Kentucky, showcasing his talent as a senior. He lost that Sunday to Alcorn with his team, the Devils, scoring 28 to the Braves’ 42. This game has been referred to as one of the most significant ballgames in not only in Southwestern Athletic Conference history but in football history as a whole.

In April 2021 state lawmakers allocated $250,000 for a feasibility study regarding the possibility of the Tigers building their own stadium. The distance between this Historically Black University and the Veterans Memorial Stadium is four miles.

Having lived in Birmingham, Ala., I find it impressive how the University of Alabama sprawls across downtown, making it easy to walk miles across campus in the urban area. The city of Oxford, home of the University of Mississippi, is centered around the school. When you pass through Tuscaloosa, Ala., you are in Roll Tide country throughout the drive along Interstate 20 from Jackson going east.

“I’ve been to all of the HBCUs, and even though that stadium is a hand-me-down, it is the best in all of SWAC,” a friend who is an alumnus of JSU told me.

Another buddy stated: “A new stadium at the Metrocenter has ample parking, great access, and will revitalize west Jackson. It is close enough to campus to run buses for students and charge campus parking. So much upside it’s ridiculous.”

Even my aging mother wonders whether such a change would be warranted, positing, “Shouldn’t the stadium be on the campus like other schools? That’s a hard one. Where would you build it? There are so many questions you have to ask.”

Football is a contact sport. In addition to the ever-present risk of life-threatening injuries, our recent COVID-19 experience suggests a facility big enough to maintain social distancing is important.

The University of Mississippi Medical Center is the only hospital in the Magnolia State designated as a Level-1 trauma center, and with the stadium across the street, the team has access to health care, which can be a game-changer.

Many have expressed concern over UMMC not having the room it needs to expand. In 2013, the construction crew ran into a roadblock while building. At the site where the Mississippi State Asylum operated from 1855 to 1935, research would reveal that bodies were buried on a hill where the crews were digging.

Since this discovery, expansion of the massive health-care facility, including its parking needs, has been limited to moving toward I-55, but there is no more room to do so. Razing of the stadium, however, would give ample space for expansion.

At present, I cast my vote toward keeping the stadium where it is because four miles is not too far from the main campus, parking is sufficient, and the space is sizable enough to accommodate fans.

However, I recognize that if there are players like Jerry Rice, Steve McNair and Walter Payton, 60,000 or more spectators will come regardless of the location.

Where do you stand on where Tiger fans fill the stands?

Se’lika Maria Sweet is a family physician and writer who published “The Bitter Southerner” and “Kings River Life.” She is an eighth-generation Mississippian who enjoys researching and writing about regional history and who is currently writing a history of Flint Goodridge Hospital in New Orleans.

Here at the midpoint of 2021, I feel hopeful. Yes, I wish more people would get vaccinated against COVID-19—and, yes, there’s a disturbing variant that could affect the unvaccinated and their loved ones harshly. But things are opening up for those of us who have been vaccinated—and I’m excited.

Donna Ladd and I have been driving all around the state throughout the pandemic. We’ve seen more of the Magnolia State in the past year than we’d seen in the previous 20 years. I’ll be honest—a lot of this state is in shambles. It’s striking to see the poverty all along the highways and in the crumbling downtowns and town centers. The rings of suburban prosperity around those towns—out near the newest WallyWorlds and “upscale” Dollar General Markets—are often right around the corner from where the defiant, low-slung, aluminum-clad segregation academies squat in every county we’ve visited.

Here on the first anniversary of the old flag coming down, driving Mississippi reminds you of all of the integration work that white Mississippians have yet even to attempt. Taking down the flag and statues is just table stakes.

But, the trips have been cathartic and educational for us, and a good way to get out of pandemic shelter at the house and home offices. Now, we’re even talking about travel outside the state again.

As you’ll see in this issue, there’s finally a lot to do inside and outside of Jackson again. In our calendar, you’ll see more concerts, events, museums, and other venues opening up and welcoming us in. And—spoiler alert!—this month, we’re rolling out an all-new events calendar at JFPEvents.com as we gear up toward post-pandemic R&R in the Jackson metro.

If you’re looking to take a trip yourself—but closer to home—Nate Schumann offers a Mississippi Breweries roundup this issue looking at all the fine beer you can sample here in the Magnolia State.

This issue also offers our Best of Jackson 2021 Household Services winners, allowing you to celebrate and learn more about the folks who help us with construction, roofing, HVAC, cleaning and so much more here in the Jackson metro. As we’re allowing more folks into our homes again, you can call up some of the best that Jackson has to offer and sign them up for a little home improvement!

Speaking of awards, this month marks the nomination ballot for Best of Jackson’s Lawyers and Law Firms for 2021. Visit vote.bestofjackson.com now to nominate your favorite lawyers and law firms in a variety of categories. Those who get the most nominations will move on to the Finalist ballot next month, so let the campaigning begin now!

And still speaking of awards, June was a great month for the Jackson Free Press, as our staff’s work in 2020 won five awards in the Diamond Awards (Arkansas Society of Professional Journalists, covering six contiguous states). The staff also got six nods in the Green Eyeshade Awards, covering 11 states in the southeastern U.S.

Nick Judin, now a state reporter for the Mississippi Free Press, won first place in four different categories in the Green Eyeshade Awards, including the Public Service in Non-Daily Journalism award for his body of work on the pandemic in Mississippi. He also won for Feature Writing, Politics and Disaster Coverage. In the Diamond Awards, Nick won second place for non-daily Breaking News and Ongoing Coverage, both for his COVID-19 work.

City Reporter Kayode Crown won first place for his explanatory reporting (non-daily) on the science and perils of road paving here in the Diamond Awards and third place in Outstanding New Journalist, an honor that the SPJ awards across all sizes and types of media.

“The amount of detail Kayode Crown puts into his stories is impressive,” the Diamond Award judges wrote. “That exemplifies a passion for reporting and writing that easily connects with readers. Plus, there’s always context provided about what impact a story has on the community. These important traits are evident now and will be well-used in the future.” He also won second place in Courts & the Law Reporting (non-daily) for his work on policing mental health and public safety.

Founding Editor Donna Ladd won first place for Commentary (print and online) in the Diamond Award and first place in the Green Eyeshades for Serious Commentary (non-daily) for her Editor’s Notes on Covid leadership and facing racism.

Meanwhile, former JFP staffers at the Mississippi Free Press (the nonprofit news outlet Donna and Kimberly Griffin started in March 2020) did so well in the Diamond Awards that the press release opened up with them as the biggest winner.

The MFP team won the Robert S. McCord Freedom of Information Award for their work on the University of Mississippi email series, and Ashton Pittman won Diamond Journalist of the Year.

Former JFP writer Aliyah Veal won first place in the Arts & Culture Writing and Health, Science and Environment Writing and third place in Business Writing, all in the print/online division. In the Green Eyeshades, she won first place for Business Writing online. The MFP team won first place in public service for their statewide voting-access project.

In all, it’s 11 nods for the Jackson Free Press and 18 for the Mississippi Free Press across both contests. Congrats to all the winners, including others in Mississippi and throughout the Southeast.

We’re proud of the entire team holding down the fort at the Jackson Free Press as Donna has shifted to the MFP, from Managing Editor Nate Schumann to Art Director Zilpha Young; Associate Publisher Kimberly Griffin (now part-time here) to Online Editor Dustin Cardon; Reporting Fellow Julian Mills to Distribution Coordinator Ken Steere. And a special shoutout to Editorial Assistant Shaye Smith, who has been heavily involved in the aforementioned calendar revamp, and Content Specialist Amber Cliett, who does excellent work for our JFP Digital Services clients in social media and online.

Be safe, first and foremost, but if you’re vaxxed up, July should prove to be a fantastic time for reconnecting with one another and the world. See you out there!

See jfp.ms/awards for a list of all 155+ JFP honors since 2004. Email Publisher Todd Stauffer at todd@jacksonfreepress.com.

We seem to be of two minds when it comes to the size of government in America. A recent example comes to mind: U.S. Sen. Roger Wicker introduced a restaurant revitalization amendment to the American Rescue Plan then making its way through the Senate. The measure passed with 90 votes and provided $28.6 billion "to support independent restaurants and small franchisees devastated from the coronavirus pandemic," as The Hill reported on Feb. 5, 2021. Hattiesburg's own Robert St. John was a leading figure in generating nationwide support for this measure. Thank you, Robert!

Here's where the debate gets interesting. Sen. Wicker did not vote for the overall American Rescue Plan that contained his amendment to aid the restaurants. He said it was not needed.

Nevertheless, he claimed credit for the much-needed assistance to restaurants provided within the bill.

The Mississippi Center for Public Policy is a conservative, legislative lobbying group. Its weekly email on April 24 opened with this scary headline, "Big government is growing. Radical progressives are determined to expand the power of the administrative state." And a little further down in the same issue, it announced, "The Mississippi Center for Public Policy is in the front line in the battle to preserve liberty and limited government."

Sen. Wicker, conservative Republican that he is, also believes in "limited government," except when he doesn't: as when he successfully pushed spending $28.6 billion to aid all those struggling restaurants across the country. He is no "radical progressive;" he just saw a need and addressed it.

I agree with Sen. Wicker that such an expenditure was a good idea. I also believe that those $1,400 checks that millions of citizens received through the American Rescue Plan were also a good idea, but the senator did not.

So, there's the debate, it seems. Helping restaurants hurt by the pandemic is a good thing, according to Sen. Wicker, but directly helping individual American citizens is not a good thing. Is that it?

Individual citizens who had dropped out of the labor force to stay home with children not in school; individual citizens who had lost their jobs due to the pandemic; individual citizens who had put off needing medical care due to the pandemic. Instead of battling "to preserve liberty and limited government," we could just help people when they need it.

Look around at your family, friends and neighbors whose lives were upended by the virus. All those of modest or meager means whom the pandemic pounded needed a leg up to get back on their feet. So, what's wrong with the government lending them a hand?

The unique nature of the restaurant industry made it especially vulnerable during the pandemic. However, many other kinds of work remain vulnerable even after the pandemic. The very nature of work is changing—robots are at work across the spectrum of the economy, from manufacturing to McDonald's to medicine; online transactions are taking the place of person-to-person interaction; capital is chasing cheap labor overseas; the electric vehicle market is booming; and the need for agricultural workers continues to decline.

We can expect continuing displacement of workers and therefore continuing, modest levels of unemployment as certain job sectors disappear, and it takes time for labor markets to adjust to such changes. Since the nation has chosen capitalism as our default economic model, we owe it to those so displaced to support them financially when they need it and to support their retraining. Only governments at all levels have the resources to deal with such population-wide challenges.

So, by all means, let's have a robust debate over the appropriate size of government. In Mississippi, we've tried "limited government" at least since 1980, and it has landed us at the bottom of just about every quality-of-life measure you can name. Maybe it's time to question some of our past decisions and take a different path.

Dick Conville is a retired college professor and long-time resident of Hattiesburg. Email him at Rlconville@yahoo.com. This column was previously published in the Pine Belt News in Hattiesburg.

Last fall, approximately 766,000 Mississippians voted to pass Initiative 65, which would have called for the Health Department to launch a medical-marijuana program in the Magnolia State by August 2021. With nearly two-thirds of the popular vote, the initiative marked a step toward progression in an otherwise socially stagnant state.

On Friday, May 14, the Mississippi Supreme Court ruled to pull the rug out from underneath its constituents: It overturned Initiative 65, effectively nullifying the many emotional and financial investments people have already made in the medical cannabis endeavor.

If you weren't aware, you may be asking yourself why?

Reports relay the message that the court's justices circumvented the voice of the people because Mississippi's initiative process is outdated. For some, this rationale, while disappointing, may sound plausible. Those who did not want the initiative to pass at all may see this decision from the court as a victory and thereby defend the supposed reasoning behind such action.

But let's frame this choice in its historical context. During the 1990s, Mississippi had five congressional districts. Thus, when Section 273 amended the Mississippi Constitution to allow the public an initiative process, the language dictated that initiative proposals receive one-fifth of signatures from each district. The Census in 2000 reduced Mississippi to four congressional districts, a mathematical technicality that attorneys latched onto when appealing to the state's Supreme Court earlier this year.

I have two issues with the Supreme Court majority's argument.

For one, in the two decades since Mississippi's initiative process became "outdated," legislators have proposed seven (seven!) bills to update the language of the Mississippi Constitution to accommodate the change in number. That makes seven times the people that Mississippians themselves voted into office refused let their voices carry weight.

Secondly, despite dissenters' claim that Initiative 65's passing would be unlawful because of the congressional numbers debacle, two voter-approved initiatives in 2011 went into effect without issue: one limiting the use of eminent domain and another requiring government-issued photo identification before voting.

Why, pray tell, did those petition-based initiatives go unchecked while medical marijuana got nipped in the bud? If this numbers issue is such a big deal, is the court going to retroactively invalidate those previous initiatives? It would only be fair.

Except that's just it. That's the operative word: fair. No matter how the bigwigs try to spin it, "fairness" is not the reason Initiative 65 has been impeded. Our leaders had the opportunity—make that seven opportunities—to remedy this situation before it became a problem. Their choice to not do so and to instead wait until this specific moment to invoke this deus ex machina seems intentional.

Like a player in a game of Monopoly, our leadership held onto this "Get Out of Jail Free" card until they felt it most tactical—and then used it to halt a change in law that a majority of other states have implemented by this point, a law that could help many suffering from conditions that cannabis has routinely proven it can alleviate.

With one Supreme Court decision, the chain of dominos have begun their collapse. Without a functional ballot-measure process, groups who have been campaigning to land other forward-thinking possibilities to upcoming statewide ballots will be forced to redraw their plans until two-thirds of lawmakers can agree to a constitutional amendment. Some officials like House Speaker Philip Gunn have suggested that an amendment could make it to the November 2022 state ballot, after which citizens can reignite their social efforts.

However, delaying the grassroots movements that Mississippi's civilian leaders have boldly set forth feels intentional. I mean, Mississippi is known far and wide for its eagerness to evolve and change, isn't it? Facetiousness aside, if lawmakers cannot settle on a renewed ballot measure, the citizen's voice will continue to go unheard.

And that's what this column is about—not medical marijuana, which has largely become a nonpartisan topic in recent years, but the will of the people. No matter where you stand on the issue of medical marijuana, or Medicaid, or other divisive subjects, if we believe in democracy, if we believe that the people's voice should carry weight, then we should push our leadership to tie up this loose end as swiftly as possible.

To the state's credit, a handful among our leadership have voiced that they believe the court should reconsider its decision or that they would approve of Gov. Tate Reeves calling a special session so that the Legislature could set the wheels in motion for a medical marijuana program sooner rather than later. But the proof of those convictions in our lawmakers as a whole will be in the pudding, as it were.

For the Mississippians who will play a role in the decisions ahead, I present a challenge in the form of a quote from H. Jackson Brown, Jr.: "Live so that when your children think of fairness and integrity, they think of you."

Leave the agendas at the door. Forget your individual opinions on political subjects. Respect your constituents and their constitutional right to propose ballot measures that reflect their often fervent wishes for this state that they choose to call home as much as you do. They want to make this state better, and they are willing to put in the efforts to build a stronger Mississippi. Are you?

Last week, with a tone toward unity and with accountability for this country apparent, President Biden delivered a poignant speech to the joint body of Congress. The landscape of this speech revealed where we are as a nation and where we can be.

As we sat in our homes watching and listening, we could see the chamber was not filled as the country continues to battle the COVID-19 pandemic. The implicit message, despite that more than 300,000 Americans have been vaccinated, was we must remain focused on this fight.

Two women sat behind the president for the first time ever in our nation's history. Women sitting, not in folding chairs where we have had to demand our place at the table but sitting in seats of power. This image was both empowered and inspired. The president asked that we as people "act with courage" and "come together to heal the soul of this nation."

I sat in my living room as this "dose of hope" settled in.

I sat, however, too long. As I was still sitting when U.S. Sen. Tim Scott, a South Carolina Republican, provided "the response" for his party. That response was a rhetorical SCUD missile. It was ballistic, targeted and explosive.

At one point in my career, I served as the intelligence officer for an Air Defense Artillery unit. I was responsible to know the capability and range, as well as recognize our enemy's weaponry and tactics. I recognized his speech immediately; it was like a SCUD missile system designed to engage important targets. Those targets are his base who heard his whistle—and you and l who feel compelled to react, to respond word for word.

His statement that "America is not a racist country" sent shrapnel flying all over America, but it was intentional and targeted. He was speaking to his party's base and at the same time he was scattering his party's opponents. The news and social media burned with constant repetition of this false narrative.

I want to remind us that we must be mindful of repeating someone else's narrative. In the military, "repeat" means to fire again with the same force and at the same target. There clearly is an adjustment that needs to be made. We must recognize the harm we, unintentionally, or maybe for some intentionally inflict when we "repeat." We must instead adjust our fire and respond with a concentration of our power.

Our power lies not inside lies, but in facing the reality that America is us. If we do not want our country to be categorically "racist," we must face the truth that racism built the systems that bind much of America. Here in our own home state, we need to examine the intent behind legislation that penalizes educators who wish to collectively bargain. We need to pull back the curtains and ask why this state would, while suffering from high rates of maternal mortality and other devastating diseases, perpetuate health-care disparity by refusing to expand Medicaid.

We need to challenge schemes that undermine the will of the people who voted for access to medical marijuana for their loved one struggling to live with debilitating illnesses. When this state voted to maintain the other flag years ago, and people continued to call for its change, "the people have voted" was the mantra of those who wanted to hang on to supremacist ideologies it represented.

Why is that not their message today? The people have spoken.

Let us not get angry when Madam Vice President "repeated." Let us listen to what she said afterward. She said "but"—a conjunction that connects contrasting or opposing viewpoints. Vice President Harris said "... but we also do have to speak the truth about the history of racism in our country and its existence today"

For many of us, the truth of that history continues to have vestiges that impact our present and our future. So, I encourage each of us committed to democracy to shake off the dust of the targeted attack, join forces regardless of whether you identify as Black, White, Asian, Indian, Woman, Man, Lesbian, Gay, Straight, Transgender, abled or other abled.

Together, we can build our America. Let us acknowledge the truth, both good and bad, and together we, like Langston Hughes, can declare: "America never was America to me. And yet I swear this oath—America will be!"

Jennifer Riley Collins is owner and principal consultant at J Riley Collins Consulting, LLC. She is an attorney and a retired Military Intelligence Colonel. In 2019, Jennifer was the Democratic nominee for Mississippi Attorney General.

The question was simple: "Is youth violence the fault of the family or the young person?" The Wingfield High School teacher meant well when she posed that question symbolizing so much of what is wrong in the accusatory public narrative about young people caught in often-generational cycles of trauma and violence.

She was sitting with about a dozen teenagers in the Mississippi Youth Media Project newsroom, next door to this newspaper's office downtown. The students were from the soon-defunct FAME program for young people who had school attendance issues, many of them I'd learn also suffering severe trauma from both experiencing and witnessing violence, which they seldom-if-ever had talked about. They came to YMP every Friday to learn media skills and tell their stories.

The educator was thrilled as she told the room how the group had devoured my "Hunger to Live" story about young men facing hunger and violence in the Washington Addition. They wouldn't stop reading it, she said, beaming, and they enthusiastically circled the embedded causes and solutions for youth violence, as I had asked them to do as homework.

So she had assigned a writing prompt: Is crime the fault of the young person or the family?

I bit my lip, not wanting to dampen her enthusiasm while noting to myself that her question left the often-blamed public schools out of the mix. "Well," I said, "I prefer more open-ended writing prompts rather than yes-or-no or either-or questions. So let's do another free write!"

My new prompt was "young people commit crime because ...." They started quietly scratching words into their journals.

The teenagers soon read out loud dozens of reasons for youth crime. They know exactly why young people commit violence, and each of them wants it to stop, but didn't know how or believe that it is possible. They taught me through their eyes.

I then had the students do a down-and-dirty systems analysis like one we did when I was a W.K. Kellogg fellow. The FAME students put each cause on a sheet of paper on the big floor—a map of what research, indeed, also shows: police brutality, poverty, stress, struggle, "no parents," self-defense, trauma, going hungry, no opportunity, hopelessness, peer pressure, underfunded schools, "need money," and others.

They then brainstormed potential solutions for what became our traveling "crime wall" for youth-crime dialogues. Their work would inspire later YMP classes to follow their work and document it in a short documentary on youth violence in Jackson accepted into the Crossroads Film Festival)

The Trauma, Hold of Generational Violence

Among the FAME teenagers was a brilliant young man who was constantly on edge who told me he had watched his 11-year-old cousin shot next to him.

There was a young woman who had been sexually abused by a mom's boyfriend and later beaten by a police officer and stabbed by her mom the same night.

Another gregarious boy came up in a gang family and craved a different path, and he got himself to the Youth Mayoral Forum that YMP hosted at Provine High School to help move tables around because, by damn, he was going to be there to help.

I loved these young people, with all their wit, honesty and imperfections (like all of us), and they taught me more than all of the violence research I've studied—especially how too many of our young people grow up in cycles they have no idea how to escape. They taught me that they and their friends love and will devour journalism that is honest about their challenges. "Finally, something positive," they say about stories like those in the JFP's "Preventing Violence" solutions series.

They are marginalized, stereotyped and lectured by everyone in sight, but rarely listened to. They're just supposed to "know better," just like their parents should've, as the people wagging fingers and calling for more jail beds say.

Blame won't stop the violence, folks.

These cycles started back with race violence—systematic horrifying lynchings in most if not all Mississippi counties over decades and white mob violence against Black people, especially young men, to keep them in their place. The violence, powerful white people believed, would keep Black people not voting, not engaged in the civic discourse and decision-making, no access to resources, education, power and opportunity that it takes to reverse such centuries-old systems. Those long-dead racists still win when we're told that the answers are harsher policing and renting more jail beds for low-level offenders, who actually need opportunity instead.

You don't destroy hope and safety of generations of young people with threats of being burned at a stake for flirting, with the state's largest newspaper announcing it in advance to swell the crowds, without the trauma of that violence sinking in generationally until we as a society pivot together to stop it.

That is science, folks.

Don't Pound the Desk for More Police

I know that violence research, no matter how on-target it is, can't change the fear in Jackson of the violence that has continually spiked in the capital city since U.S. Attorney Mike Hurst started Project Eject, working with the city and county) in Jackson in late 2017. (Based on rresearch about this kind of "sweeps" policing causing more crime and violence, I don't believe that is a coincidence.)

As I'm writing this, the Jackson City Council plans to meet at New Horizon Church in South Jackson later today (Tuesday, May 4) to, supposedly, focus on the violence.

Inevitably, some will pound the desk for more police and jail beds. I remember a panel discussion Councilman Banks hosted at Forest Hill High School around the time that the Wingfield teens did the systems analysis and not long before murders started spiking (coinciding with the anti-evidence-based Project Eject's focus on mass incarceration of more Jacksonians) and so-called gang enforcement, which also continues the cycle of violence inside and outside prisons.

A row of uniformed officers sat at a front table in the Forest Hill cafeteria. Some commentary was thoughtful, but steeped in resignation. Few young people were there, just as those who need opportunities the most are least likely to get it.

This is difficult work, and it should've started in earnest and in an organized way a decade or decades ago, but the second best time is now.

Make no mistake: More police officers will not reduce violence (they admit that in honest moments). And when not trained or managed well, law enforcement increases violence—and studies of Jackson crime show that putting a young person in the backseat of a police car is one of the stronger indicators of whether he or she will commit worse violence later.

When officers are disrespectful or abusive to Jackson's young people, teenagers will respond in kind, and police lose trust with the community. When cops beat up, or kill, a mentally disturbed man they were called to help, they are increasing the culture of violence. Research proves that over-policing and brutality causes more violence and that spending more on police officers does not lower crime. Not to mention, violence and disrespectful law enforcement are modeling that behavior for young people

What Jackson needs is an evidence-based safety net to wrap around our neediest young people at every stage to stop cycles of violence that spread like a virus. We can unite to fill in the holes, but we must stop finger-wagging blame-games and assuming that more cops are the answer rather than one of myriad causes.

Seek real solutions, or we'll be having the same meetings in the same churches 20 years from now.

Read the JFP's award-winning and impactful archive of solutions journalism focused on causes and solutions for violence. Visit jxnpulse.com for Mississippi Youth Media Project journalism including on violence prevention and causes of youth crime. YMP is on hiatus until after the pandemic. Write donna@jacksonfreepress.com if you're interested in helping as we move toward relaunching the project.

When it comes to voting, there is no denying a simple fact about Mississippi: our state has refused to eliminate antiquated laws that disproportionately silence Black and young voters.

In drafting the state's constitution in 1890, white lawmakers with mal intent sought to limit the voting power of Black Freedmen by permanently disenfranchising those convicted of a specific set of felony offenses. And while felony disenfranchisement laws have been updated since the 1800s, the discriminatory spirit of these policies still lives today. Black Mississippians are still disproportionately harmed by these measures.

It is past time for state legislators to bring Mississippi into alignment with the nation by automatically restoring the right to vote of returning citizens and those with felony convictions. By failing to overturn policies rooted in Jim Crow racism, the state clings to a criminal legal system that belies our values as a state and makes regaining the right to vote nearly impossible. The state must act to modernize the voting-rights restoration process and ensure all Mississippians have equal access to the ballot box.

Felony disenfranchisement is a process in which a person loses the right to vote when convicted of any one of 22 specific felony offenses. When it comes to felony disenfranchisement in Mississippi, the facts speak for themselves. Mississippi now has the highest percentage of its residents denied the right to vote because of a felony conviction. A 2020 study by The Sentencing Project found that 235,150 Mississippians, or one in 10 of the state's voting-age population, have lost their right to vote due to felony disenfranchisement. Those disenfranchised are more likely to be Black and young.

Mississippi has the third highest percentage of disenfranchised Black citizens in the nation: 130,500 or 16% of the Black population—twice the national average. Most disenfranchised Mississippians are not incarcerated.

A new report by One Voice and Mississippi Votes notes that more than 90% of the disenfranchised live in Mississippi communities. The report, Our Voices, Our Votes: Felony Disenfranchisement and Re-entry in Mississippi, indicates that returning citizens—who are disproportionately Black—are members of our communities who face challenges in securing housing, employment and health care. The data show that while the state's felony disenfranchisement laws have been updated, they still work to accomplish the racist ends of the state's forefathers.

A 2018 lawsuit filed by the Southern Poverty Law Center also highlights how the process of regaining the right to vote is racially discriminatory. Currently, Mississippians can only regain their voting rights through an executive order from the governor or by the successful passage of a suffrage bill by the Legislature restoring an individual's right to vote.

From 2007-2017, the Mississippi Legislature restored voting rights to only 45 people. The 2018 case argued that the suffrage bill process "violates the First Amendment by vesting legislators with unfettered discretion," and violates the 14th Amendment because "it discriminates based on race and creates a restoration scheme that is arbitrary and has no standards."

Fortunately, voting-rights organizations in Mississippi led by Black women are working hard to overturn Mississippi's racist voter-suppression legacy. Organizations like One Voice and Mississippi Vote are forming a statewide coalition effort to introduce 200 bills of suffrage during the 2021 Mississippi legislative session.

This work builds on over a decade of experience engaging communities across the state and is a product of policy, advocacy and our push to modernize Mississippi's election system. We not only established an easy online suffrage application form to help the disenfranchised begin the process of restoring their right to vote, but we also set up a telephone hotline, 1-888-601-VOTE (8683), where Mississippians can get live support during the process. We continue to work to change Mississippi's voting laws.

It is clear that if Mississippi is to become a state that ensures equal access to the ballot box, state legislators must act to end the state's discriminatory felony disenfranchisement laws. Lawmakers should restore voting rights to everyone who has completed their prison terms and establish inclusive criteria for approving suffrage applications.

This MFP Voices essay does not necessarily represent the views of the Mississippi Free Press, its staff or board members. To submit an essay for the MFP Voices section, send up to 1,200 words and factcheck information to azia@mississippifreepress.com. We welcome a wide variety of viewpoints.

Life happens in stages, it seems. I'm a reader, so I tend to think of it in terms of chapters, or maybe even books in a series. When you're living it, as when you're involved in a good book, you get caught up in the story and sometimes don't realize you're rapidly approaching a cliff-hanger.

This may be where my analogy starts to break down, though, because in books, cliff-hangers are generally resolved pretty quickly with a turn of the page. There may be another chapter thrown in to prolong the suspense or—heaven forbid—you might have to wait for the next book to come out, but you can feel pretty secure in the expectation that a resolution is on its way.

In life, though, resolutions aren't assured, and it may be up to you to decide what comes next.

My most recent chapter started when my youngest child started college. When my first child, a son, was born, I had completed a graduate degree only weeks previously, but I, along with my husband, made the decision that I would be a full-time mom (as if any mom isn't a "full-time mom," but you know what I mean) and would not pursue licensure in my field at that time.

A few years later, my daughter was born, and with two young children, I was plenty busy and fulfilled doing my best to keep them safe and healthy and help them grow into the best possible versions of themselves. The next thing I knew they were leaving for college.

I realize that I was incredibly fortunate to have the option of being a stay-at-home-mom, and while it's not for everyone, I don't for a moment regret making that choice. I loved being able to spend my time focusing completely on my children while they were young. If I'm honest, though, I stayed in that role longer than was necessary. I wanted to be available to do things like take them to music lessons and chaperone school trips, and because my daughter has a chronic illness, I wanted to be on hand if related issues arose.

In reality, though, they would have been fine if I had gone to work full-time at that point. It was probably, more than anything else, that I wasn't ready to give up that role, yet. I did work part-time for several years during that time, at a job unrelated to my educational training, but I never went back and completed that licensure.

As a result, when my daughter left for college and that "full-time mom" chapter was suddenly complete, I wasn't sure what was going to come next. I had put all of myself into my kids for so long, I didn't know what I the next chapter might look like. I didn't even know what I wanted it to look like. I had lots of education, but I didn't know if I could get licensed to use it two decades after the fact—or if I even wanted to, if I could.

Even before finishing my master's degree, I had begun to worry that the career path I had chosen wasn't going to be a good fit for me. So, there I was, at the end of that chapter, dangling from a cliff, looking around for a resolution.

As I mentioned before, I am a reader. I always have been. I read fiction, mostly, along with a constant stream of articles—news, current events, pop culture, etc., whatever my Apple News feed puts in front of me. And like many readers, I also write. I had written a few articles for local magazines, as well as some devotional writing for my church, and of course, like so many of us reader/writer types, there is always a novel in the works.

So, when a friend who knew I was looking for something new saw a notice that the Jackson Free Press was looking for an editorial assistant, he forwarded it to me, and I jumped at the chance to apply. I had been a fan of the JFP for years. I already appreciated their perspective and the unflinching journalistic work that they do in the city and metro area, and I wanted to be a part of that, if I could.

Fortunately for me, I was hired for the editorial assistant position and joined the JFP in July. My foremost responsibility is maintaining the events calendar, although I also assist the managing editor with other things as they come up, and I'm learning more about journalism all the time.

I have to say, it has been a bit strange to begin a new job in the middle of a pandemic. I am in my eighth month at JFP and, so far, I haven't actually met any of the staff in person. The whole staff is working from home, and since I've been on board, personal engagement has been limited to Zoom meetings, but I look forward to getting to know everyone in the post-pandemic world when interacting with people face-to-face is a thing again.

I also look forward to getting a better sense of how all the "moving parts" involved in creating a publication like this one fit together when the staff returns to the office. As things are currently, it can be hard to grasp the bigger picture sometimes.

For now, though, I am enjoying working from home and learning about local journalism and what goes into bringing a community news source like the Jackson Free Press to its readers. And I'm happy with the new chapter I've started. Who knows, it may turn out to be the best one, yet.

Shaye Smith is the editorial assistant and events editor at the Jackson Free Press. Send your events information to events@jacksonfreepress.com.

Much is made of the great gulf that separates competing sides in the current cultural, political, and religious contests that mar our social and media landscapes. But "gulf" may not be the best visual image to use. Two reasons. There are so many issues out there that there must be many gulfs, not just one; and "gulf" makes it seem like the problem is "out there" somewhere; something I can walk away from.

However, a better way to look at those contests, I suggest, is to look inward to ourselves, not to something outside us. Recently I discovered a poem by the Israeli poet Yehuda Amichai that drove this point home for me.

From the place where we are right, flowers will not grow.

The place where we are right is hard and trampled, like a yard.

But doubts and loves dig up the world, like a mole, a plow.

Hard-packed soil does not grow flowers in the spring, nor any other kind of plant in any other season. If I am convinced that I am Right (with a capital R; on either side of any one of those many gulfs), my mind is like hard-packed soil. It keeps out any seed that might happen to land there and sprout a new thought (about my rightness).

But then, the poet seems to ask, what softens hard-packed soil, makes it welcome that seed that may fall on it? Doubts and loves! Two very different cultivators to be sure. Doubts launch a frontal assault on positions ("like a plow?"); loves come obliquely ("like a mole?"), evoking emotions.

Now, shift gears. A friend of "On Being" host Krista Tippett's, Whitney Kimball Coe, of the Rural Assembly (a group trying to bridge the rural-urban divide) wrote her friend a note recounting a recent hospital experience that, you will see, will bring us back to the hard-packed soil and plows and moles.

Whitney's daughter, Susannah, took a nasty fall, and that's why it's a hospital story. I'll let Ms. Coe take up the story there: "You know, our hospital experience put us directly in the path of so many wonderful East Tennesseans. Nurses and technicians and doctors, the other parents waiting in the ER, the parking attendant, the security guard.

"I'm sure many of them didn't vote as I did in the last election and probably believe the events of Jan 6 were mere protests, but they responded to our trauma with their full humanity," she continued. "I'd forgotten what it feels like to really see people beyond their tribe/ideology. It broke something open in me."

She went on to confess, "I've been living in a castle of isolation these many months, and it's rotted and blotted my insides."

A few sentences later, reflecting on the experience, she observed: "No meme nor Twitter post nor op-ed nor breaking news nor TED talk can soften and strengthen our hearts like actually tending to one another."

"Tending to one another." Being tended to in that ER brought to her, as the poet put it, doubts and loves: doubts about her "rightness" because of the love they showed her in her distress. Is that it—the thing we need to see, inside, instead of the "gulf" outside?

Being tended to worked like a plow and a mole to loosen the hard-packed soil of Whitney's "rightness" in her opinions of others, those "East Tennesseans." She was used to seeing them only in their tribes and ideologies. Being tended to, however, "broke something open" in her and allowed her to exit that "castle of isolation" she had built for herself.

What social divide haunts you and me the most? Rural-urban, like Whitney Coe's or insider-outsider or Republican-Democrat or Evangelical Christian-Progressive Christian? Whatever it is, it may be, it could be, that what happened to that distraught mother in that East Tennessee ER could happen to you and me.

Reaching out (or across or over) to tend to one another may be a start, a step toward finding our "better angels," a step toward "creating a more perfect union." It may not work of course. We're humans after all and tend to fall in love with the hard-packed soil of our own rightness.

But, in extending care to another, you and I might actually encounter a plow or a mole, doubt or love, that will break open something inside us, loosen that hard-packed soil and welcome a seed that may flower, softening and strengthening our hearts.

Dick Conville is a retired college professor and long-time resident of Hattiesburg. This essay was published previously in the Pine Belt News.

While Lt. Gov. Delbert Hosemann often presents himself, rightly, as the Mississippi GOP's adult in the room, his reaction to Jackson's water woes this week leaves a bad taste. Answering a question from Mississippi Free Press' Nick Judin on March 1, Hosemann said, "You remember during Kane Ditto's administration, he did repair work on water and sewer. So what happened since then?"

I've told this story before, but soon after we started the Jackson Free Press, I found myself attending a 2003 Jackson City Council retreat at the JSU e-Center—the first time I'd encountered either of those things. Around a long rectangle of tables in the middle were (socially distanced) members of the Jackson City Council with other journalists scattered between them. At the front of the room, members of Mayor Harvey Johnson's 
administration showed PowerPoint slides and discussed their projects.

What struck me was the presentations' scope. It's been a while, but I remember it as presentations detailing a few hundred thousand dollars for streetlights, a few hundred thousand for sidewalks—and $200 MILLION for water.

I noted at the time that, huh, we must have a water problem.

In other words, the City of Jackson, the residents of Jackson, Jackson's local media, Jackson's state representatives and many others have been working on this water project for a while now.

Lt. Gov. Hosemann, here's what's happened "since then" and since Johnson defeated Kane Ditto to become Jackson's first Black mayor: (1) hundreds of millions of dollars worth of water and sewer work; (2) another generation of white and economic flight; (3) supermajority control of the Mississippi Legislature by the Jackson-unfriendly GOP; 
(4) Siemens debacle; (5) seemingly endless encouragement and subsidy of suburban sprawl that has undone nearly every city and town in the state—especially those with high Black populations. (Trust me—Donna and I have road-tripped to what feels like two-thirds of Mississippi's towns during the pandemic.)

It's probably important to remember that, for decades now, the "Daddy State" of Mississippi has fought any payment in lieu of taxation or other direct subsidies of the capital city.

Finally, just in the past few years, the Legislature has allowed Jackson to add a 1-percent local option to our sales tax, most of which goes to roads. And in exchange for an oversight commission and expanded presence of the Capitol Police in the city, the State has returned a larger percentage of our sales taxes to a special fund for infrastructure improvements that benefit state institutions (and, tangentially, affluent citizens).

Most of that also goes to roads.

After a years-long ordeal with an extremely fraught $90-million contract with Siemens, the City has recently stabilized water billing and still reels from massive deficits resulting from that extraordinary debacle. Multiple administrations bought a bill of goods by an international corporation, fronted by a connected, local Mississippi salesman—who turned around and went into the water-meter business with the son of a suburban mayor. (Moss Point sued their firm in the spring 2020 for allegedly implementing a faulty meter and billing system. You can't make any of this up.)

The truth is, Jackson has been at this for quite some time, and we've had to fight the Mississippi GOP tooth-and-nail for support for the capital city and state government infrastructure for the two decades I've called Jackson home. And we've had to ride out the universal scorn and disdain that conservatives from around the state heap on the state's only urban environment—not to mention its major center of government, culture, health care and higher education.

"I've received no contact from the City at all. No, I have not," Hosemann told the Mississippi Free Press.

Phones dial both ways. I get that the lieutenant governor might think calling up the capital city's mayor and saying, "I'm from the Mississippi GOP, and I'm here to help," might be 10 English words that strike fear in the heart of a Jacksonian. But he is a tax-paying resident, so he's got that right to make the call. And as the state's top lawmaker, he should make that call to a beleaguered mayor.

Instead, Hosemann harkened back to a time—which happened to be when the last white mayor was in power in Jackson—and inaccurately suggested nothing has happened since then.

That's fake news.

Jackson has a billion-dollar water and sewer problem. This city is overbuilt, over-annexed and under-appreciated by the state around it. The Mississippi GOP's "selfishness is a virtue" mentality has them scheming to take over the Jackson airport while implementing suburban BIDs to subsidize live-work shopping malls to replace downtowns.

Meanwhile, the Mississippi GOP turns away federal opportunities such as expanding Medicaid, which absolutely should have gotten done this year during a pandemic and economic crisis.

Instead, they've spent entirely too much time in CPAC-ALEC FantasyLand trying to overturn the state's income tax—especially if their answer is to swap that for a highly regressive sales tax pushing 10 percent. There seems to be no poor person for whom the Mississippi GOP can't figure out how to show some contempt.

I appreciate Hosemann's leadership on technical education, job creation, combating brain drain and changing the Mississippi flag. And it even looks like he's the "adult in the room" when it comes to the income-tax debate.

But tone-deaf discussion of Jackson's water woes doesn't help anything right now. We need problem solvers at the table, looking at where things are right now (including success in the Siemens suit by both the City and a handful of connected attorneys) and how all players can come to the table and help.

Lan' sakes, Delbert. This ain't the time to raise Kane.

Todd Stauffer is president, publisher and co-founder of the Jackson Free Press.

CORRECTION: Due to a typo, a previous version of this story mistakenly referred to a "$90-billion contract with Siemens." The actual amount is $90 million. We apologize for the error.

We published our first ever Best of Jackson issue in January 2003, right after we'd launched the Jackson Free Press in the fall of 2002. Nearly two decades later, a lot has changed in Jackson.

Heck, even State Street has been repaved.

We've always had some good restaurants in Jackson, but this is more of a foodie town than ever before (pandemic aside). Metro Jackson has great options for live music (pandemic aside), live theater and dance (pandemic aside). There's even live comedy now (pandemic aside) and, of course, there's no shortage of places to get married (pandemic aside).

I know we're sick of the pandemic—no pun intended—and ready to get back out there and keep a little less social distance. Not that the curbside take-out and Netflix haven't been fantastic. And we will get there when it's safe as we continue safety precautions to protect each other now.

In times like these, it is more important than ever to celebrate what is good about this place we call home. In that spirit, we're publishing the 18th annual Best of Jackson issue, this one celebrating—among other things—the end of 2020. (Woohoo!)

Congratulations to all of our Finalists and Winners. We took our new Best of Jackson balloting system for a spin for this year's ballot, and it worked—we had the most individual votes we've ever seen in a Best of Jackson contest.

Thanks to everyone who voted and made your voice heard.

If you're a Finalist or Winner in this year's Best of Jackson, we'll be emailing certificates this year—make sure Kimberly Griffin knows where you are (email kimberly@jacksonfreepress.com or call 601-362-6121 x11). We also have glass plaques available for purchase (and other options) if you would like one for your wall, shelf, lobby, etc. (We don't authorize any other companies to sell plaques or awards, so if you hear from them, know that they're not official!)

Along with this issue, we're launching the all-new Best of Jackson City Guide, which is live at https://guide.bestofjackson.com. Again if you're a Finalist or Winner, you've got options for upgrading your listing with custom images, links to your site and some SEO goodness to help people find you in search.

On Feb. 15, we'll have our Best of Jackson virtual awards party via Facebook Live, starting at 6 p.m. If you're a Winner, we would love to get you to record a thank you or acceptance (60 seconds or less) in your place of business, with your team, band, supporting cast, etc., that we can include in the virtual celebration. Email me at todd@jacksonfreepress.com for details; we'll be reaching out to winners as well.

Our next issue of the Jackson Free Press will publish on March 3, 2021, and one of the main features will be the Best of Jackson 2021 Healthcare ballot, where we take nominations for Best Doctor, Best Dentist, Best Speciality Clinic, Best Hospital and many more. If those are waters you swim in and you'd like to campaign this year (with paid ads and/or free social media graphics) please get hold of Kimberly Griffin or myself.

As this is our first monthly issue of the Jackson Free Press, let me remind you that we continue daily news, people and entertainment reporting online. To stay in the know, subscribe to the JFPDaily.com email newsletter and, of course, you can follow us on social media, particularly Facebook and Twitter, for breaking news.

If you're a business, nonprofit, promoter or someone else who needs to get the word out about your event or promotion during February, call us even though the print issue is already to bed. We have digital advertising options on JFP.ms and via the Google Display network; we can get your event or promotion announced via JFP Daily as well.

If you haven't heard of JFP Digital Services, you might like what we offer for local businesses and nonprofits. We can help you build a new website, publish a blog and news items, fill your social-media channels, create and maintain an email newsletter, and grow an audience of engaged customers or constituents. If you need help with a communications strategy, social-media strategy, or you want to improve your search position and learn more about digital marketing options—email me (todd@jacksonfreepress.com).

I'd like to acknowledge the group of fine folks who put this fantastic issue together. Managing Editor Nate Schumann did a lot of the heavy lifting, with support from Web Editor Dustin Cardon, Editorial Assistant Shaye Smith and our team of freelance writers and photographers. Associate Publisher Kimberly Griffin oversaw the balloting and sold ads and sponsorships. Creative Director Kristin Brenenmen pulled everything together into a beautiful package with help from Senior Designer Zilpha Young, who also designed and placed most of the ads. Executive Assistant Azia Wiggins kept various trains running on time.

If you are a Finalist or Winner and see an error in a listing, please let kimberly@jacksonfreepress.com, and you can reach out to hear to learn more about the Best of Jackson promotional options as well.

Please join us for the Best of Jackson virtual ceremony, which we promise to make as exciting as possible for a 
Facebook Live presentation. Our goal is to truly celebrate some fantastic people who work hard to make Jackson a unique place to live and enjoy. Soon, this pandemic will end, and we can get back out there.

For now, remember to shop local and support our community as well as you can under the circumstances. Be safe, wear a mask, get that vaccine as soon as you can and stay positive. This issue should help—it's full of the best that Jackson has to offer. Enjoy!

This issue appears on the streets during a significant change for our nation—our publication date is Inauguration Day for President Joe Biden and Vice President Kamala Harris. Jan. 20, 2021, ushers in not just a historic new chapter in our country, but, I hope, a return to some of our oldest and most cherished values when it comes to the dignity and sense of purpose we expect of our leaders. We have a lot of healing to do, both among ourselves and with our allies worldwide.

Along with changes on the national level, I've got several changes to report on the local JFP front, effective with this issue.

First, this issue marks our first issue in over a year that didn't feature Nick Judin on the masthead as a reporter (although he, of course, still has a byline in this issue). In a short amount of time, Nick put together a body of fantastic work, especially on COVID-19 and how it has affected the lives of Mississippi's people. We're incredibly proud of this young man and Jackson native who interned for us years ago and returned to the Jackson Free Press family in 2019.

This month, the statewide nonprofit Mississippi Free Press added Nick to its masthead, where he will be the new state reporter for that growing nonprofit publication. In his stead, Julian Mills joins us as a reporting fellow, where he'll focus on COVID-19, state news and other topics of interest to our metro Jackson readership.

Second, this marks the first issue in 18 years that doesn't have Donna Ladd as the Editor-in-Chief on that same masthead. As the Mississippi Free Press draws more of her attention, she's moving into a slightly new role at the JFP: Founding Editor. While she'll still have her hand on the content of the JFP—especially on the deep-dive journalism that's defined our publication for nearly two decades—she is getting more help and a little less responsibility in the day-to-day operations.

Third, as a corollary to that, we're promoting Nate Schumann to Managing Editor of the Jackson Free Press. Nate is a fantastic editor and writer, an organized (and extremely kind) manager ... and the person we trust to pull together the Best of Jackson issue. When we trust you with that mammoth task—it's promotion time!

Fourth, we've got changes for the Jackson Free Press' print publication schedule. This past year we've come to recognize two unavoidable truths—COVID-19 is continuing to affect our print advertisers, and the effects of COVID (and other factors) have considerably boosted our online readership. That's led to this decision—starting with the Best of Jackson 2021 edition on Feb. 3, 2021, we will come out in print once a month instead of biweekly.

We have thought about "monthly" a great deal this past year, and we feel that our readers are best served by breaking news and events content on the Web (and via the JFPDaily.com email newsletter), with longer-form, magazine-style entertainment features and investigative news in print. We also hope this move will benefit our advertisers, too, as a single ad in print will reach 45,000 or more people each month.

Fifth, with the change to monthly, we've moved the Best of Jackson issue (and the announcement of the winners) to Feb. 3, so that it can be out for a full month. On the same day, we'll launch our brand new BestofJackson.com city guide and portal—a fully search-optimized and graphically enhanced results website that will celebrate our winners all year long.

Sixth, we're announcing a virtual Best of Jackson award ceremony on Feb. 15, where we hope you'll join us to celebrate the finalists and winners of this year's reader poll. We're planning a few surprises that we hope will make for an entertaining few hours of Facebook Live streaming—you can sign up for the JFPDaily.com newsletter for reminders and more information.

This past year has been a tough one for the Jackson Free Press' advertisers, and for the JFP as a result, because we do rely on advertisers to make it work. As you can imagine, most of those ads are about going outside your house and socializing—things that have been highly limited for nearly 10 months now.

We certainly hope to get back to big events soon, and in the meantime, I'd like to encourage anyone who would like to get the word out about their business, nonprofit, clinic, service, virtual event and so on to get in touch with me (todd@jacksonfreepress.com) or Kimberly Griffin (kimberly@jacksonfreepress.com) to take advantage of some fantastic "launch" packages we have for monthly print and Web advertising with extraordinary local reach.

It's also been a very productive reporting year for the JFP, with an over-50% increase in web traffic (more than 3 million visitors and 4.4 million pageviews) in 2020 compared to 2019. Noting that trend, we're encouraging our local businesses and nonprofits to consider more digital advertising options, both on our site and in the JFP Daily email newsletter.

Finally, we have to THANK OUR READERS for making it possible for us to stick it out during the pandemic! More than 600 people have become JFP VIPs supporting this publication and our staff; readers helped cover roughly 25% of our entire budget last year. We're working on more special programming and perks for JFP VIPs, especially as we come out of the pandemic. This direct financial support from readers helps us continue to be an independent voice that holds the powerful to account.

Thanks for being a reader—if you'd like to become a JFP Daily subscriber, you can do so at jfpdaily.com and if you'd like to become a JFP VIP supporter, you can do so at JFP.ms/vip/. We look forward to serving you in 2021.

Reach me at todd@jacksonfreepress.com and pitch ideas to Nate at 
nate@jacksonfreepress.com.

In recent months, Mayor Chokwe Lumumba proposed and the Jackson City Council approved a 45-day pilot surveillance program that will enlist tech companies to tap into the Ring surveillance camera footage of 10 homes and businesses who are collaborating with the expansion of Jackson's surveillance state. The Jackson Police Department's, or JPD's, Real Time Crime Center can access the Ring camera footage at all times as everyday citizens casually go about their daily routines.

JPD's Real Time Crime Center is a surveillance hub with feeds from cameras installed during Lumumba's tenure for what he calls "virtual policing." Virtual policing means that 365 days a year, 24 hours a day, an all-seeing eye will be fixed on Jackson's majority poor and working-class residents. Like the surveillance cameras Lumumba boasted about placing in communities in south Jackson mainly comprised of the working class and unemployed, this Ring surveillance pilot program will not be aimed at capturing the crimes of more affluent residents in northeast Jackson.

The "radical" mayor has made it incandescently clear that he does not think anything is wrong with surveilling Jackson's 80%-plus Black population whom he calls "our people." "[V]irtual policing is no more intrusive than the world we already live in. ... Everywhere you go there is a camera pointing at you from some private entity or gas station or something else."

A business owner using surveillance cameras to monitor the activities within a given vicinity is much different than the state monitoring unsuspecting citizens going about their daily lives. There is overlap between the interests of individual capitalists employing surveillance and the state doing so because both have an interest in protecting private property. But history has shown that the state also has an interest in tracking the activities of citizens in an effort to snuff out any emerging organizing activity before it can gain momentum to upset the status quo.

Edward Snowden, Chelsea Manning, Terry Albury and Jeffrey Sterling all have revealed to the public that police state surveillance is not as benign as Mayor Lumumba would have us believe. They all have paid the hefty price of torture, imprisonment and being labeled enemies of the state. Mayor Lumumba is a part of the Center for American Progress' Mayors for Smart Crime Initiative, an initiative that appears to think it is a genius idea to subordinate the multitudes more efficiently through police-state surveillance. Lumumba surveils Black people while talking about the FBI's COINTELPRO. Is this what Mayor Lumumba meant by making Jackson the most radical city on the planet?

The Lumumba regime is faced with a crisis of legitimacy on the question of crime and violence in Jackson. As the number of homicides increase in the city, and his 2021 re-election bid looms, he and his advisers are scrambling to make it appear that they can solve a problem that the very nature of the state perpetuates. The actions of the Lumumba regime continues to expose the fact that ordinary people have no representation in hierarchical government. The Lumumba administration serves the interests of capital and is on the side of the permanent slaughter. Any pretense of Black radicalism by those who rule above society is mere branding to get the multitudes to place a stamp of approval on their being conquered in the name of Black power.

Rulers entrance people through talk of solving problems that are of legitimate concern for everyday people such as crime and violence. But in the words of the hip-hop artist Cool Breeze, "you better listen to your corner and watch for the hook." The same surveillance gadgetry that rulers say they employ to protect citizens will be the ones they will use to suppress the multitudes when they rise up to throw off the yoke of their oppression.

During the Civil Rights Movement, the State of Mississippi sanctioned the Sovereignty Commission to surveil and suppress the social motion aimed at subverting the white racial state's oppression of Black people in Mississippi. Many prominent figures in the Black community volunteered to be its tools. Today, in Jackson, the Black-led government is at the forefront of making government espionage great again in Mississippi. I know some won't like my saying this, but it's the truth.

Mayor Lumumba is a part of the "new left" that seeks to restore a crumbling American empire through Black faces in high places. He dons African accoutrements as he presides over the police state that surveils, conquers and kills ordinary people in the interest of restoring the legitimacy of the empire of capital.

Expanding the government's capacity to surveil will not address interpersonal violence. Ordinary people determined to arrive on our own authority can accomplish the task of ensuring our collective safety and security. We cannot relinquish our power to elite rulers and blindly trust them to accomplish this task in which they have failed miserably. We must reclaim our power and seize the time.

Adofo Minka is a resident of Jackson and president of the International Association of Black Lawyers.

This column does not necessarily reflect the views of the JFP.

One of Mississippi’s senators and three of its congressmen chose to jump on the Trump bandwagon, objecting last week to final certification of the Biden-Harris presidential victory.

Before that, the Republican lawmakers and state officials supported a lawsuit asking the U.S. Supreme Court to overturn the results of the presidential election in Pennsylvania, Wisconsin, Georgia and Michigan. In all, 126 House members similarly jumped, following the lead of the Texas Attorney General Ken Paxton with the blessing of President Donald Trump.

These Republicans are like cats that have climbed a tree and can’t climb down. Squirrels can climb down head first, but house cats must back down if they are to come down the way they went up. Barring that, it’s get out your ladder and go up after them.

You can see what a predicament those 126 House Republicans are in, as well as all those other Republicans in the House and Senate who have cringed in fear before the president’s tweets. Of their own free will, they chose to follow him up that tree to the topmost limbs of authoritarian rule and, ultimately, this week’s violent insurrection, by supporting the president’s brazen lies about the fairness of the election.

Bless his heart; Trump is always the victim.

Someday soon, it will be clear to most ordinary Americans that the whole presidency of Donald J. Trump was a con: just another way to make some more money. Then what will Republican elected officials say? Maybe “Oops. My bad”? How will they come down out of that tree they climbed?

One of those limbs was so long it led them to abandon their beloved principle of “states’ rights.” Since Ronald Reagan’s 1980 campaign, Republican elected officials have argued that “government is not the solution; government is the problem.” And in Mississippi, “government” of course meant the federal government: those guys who integrated the public schools; those guys who created so-called “welfare queens,” those guys who, they still insist, “took God out of the schools.”

So, states’ rights are good rights. Small problem with that failed Supreme Court case: Republicans hold the legislative majority in all four of those states named in the suit: Pennsylvania, Wisconsin, Georgia and Michigan.

Our three Republican congressmen found themselves in the uncomfortable position of arguing that those Republican-majority legislatures did not have the right to make their own election rules—clearly an argument against states’ rights and proof positive that Trump is not a Republican and doesn’t care to know what Republicans have been fighting for ever since President Johnson signed the 1964 Civil Rights Bill. He just wanted to win.

It was a pretty tall tree those Republican elected officials climbed, following their ever-angry and always-victimized leader. How do they come down now, especially after the violence and destruction at the U.S. Capitol this week? How do they reconcile with those who did not follow him?

Maybe they can now do some governing for a change. Maybe legislating, even across the aisle. Maybe debating and voting on bills for the benefit of ordinary citizens.

The silence of the Mississippi Republican congressional delegation in the face of the president’s angry rants made it look like they agreed with him no matter what he did or said. Did they? Really? I’m not sure. Now that the game is over, what will they do? How do you unring a bell? How does a cat come down from a tree?

Mississippi Republican elected officials are owned by Donald J. Trump, who is no Republican. Do they want to be owned by an angry, sulking adolescent who will do anything to remain in power? I don’t think so.

Dick Conville is a retired college professor and long-time Hattiesburg resident.

This column does not necessarily reflect the views of the JFP.