Ellington

When my assistant editor, Casey Parks, left the JFP last month to go on to graduate school, she wrote a goodbye editor's note that made me cry. I admit I was touched by what she said about me, the city and the JFP's mission, but more than anything, I cried with pride at the love and maturity such a young person was showing for her community, and herself.

I thought of myself at Casey's age. When I graduated from Mississippi State University, I could not wait to leave. In fact, I left the next day for a law program at a college I ended up hating in Washington, D.C. All I knew is that I wanted out of Mississippi. And I wasn't ever coming back.

Why did I feel this way? For one, I was so disgusted and ashamed of my hometown and home state's brutal race history—that no one bothered to fill me in on until I was almost grown because "all those things are in the past." But even more important for me personally, I didn't feel like there was a place for me in Mississippi.

Because I had progressive, non-conformist ideas (at least for Mississippi), I wasn't welcomed here. Beyond a handful of wonderful teachers and mentors whom I owe everything to today, so many adults treated me like I was a freak because I didn't think just exactly like they did. I remember a 10th-grade World History teacher who would get so frustrated at me because I challenged some of her ideas and tried to have a conversation when all she wanted to do was read out loud from the textbook. "Come back in 20 years and see how you feel then!" she'd yell at me.

I'm back, and I'm still feeling it, babe.

But when I left Mississippi, I didn't think I'd ever come back. I wanted to live among interesting, progressive, smart, educated people of all races who wouldn't tell me I was going to hell because I believed women should have equal rights. (A different history teacher told me that. And this was public school.) I thought Ionly belonged "out there." I moved, traveled, met, experienced, and learned so much. My education included the knowledge that race hatred, and other types, existed everywhere. I also learned that that fact never excuses it anywhere, here or there.

Eighteen years after I left, my homing beacon went off, though, and I came on back home. And when I got back, I learned that many things had changed, and many had not, and even more had changed a little. In Jackson, I found many open-minded, wonderful people—but many of them hadn't found each other, or spend too much time grousing about how the state sucked to help make it stop sucking. It suddenly made sense to use the experience I gathered out there to create a forum here to help them find each other and the power that lurks in numbers.

From the first day we started the paper, I had young people like Casey Parks in mind. She sent me a letter after seeing the first issue; it would be many months before we would actually work together, but we were drawn together. There is nothing more special to me than being able to provide something I didn't have when I stormed out of Mississippi—a positive way to make a difference here in the South, in our own state.

Casey was a transplant, a vagabond as she describes it, but she became a true citizen here. She didn't start out to be an activist; she wanted to be a good journalist. But along the way something happened that broke a little piece of her heart off: Mississippians voted overwhelmingly to demonize the idea of gay marriage, even though it wasn't already legal. It seemed like a vote of hate to a young woman like Casey who loves women instead of men.

So Casey became what I can only dream about having done when I was 22—a symbol of change, of hope, of love in my home state of Mississippi. She wrote a powerful, human column—"I'm a Decent Human Being, Too"—about the pain that vote caused her, a column that cost us one advertiser because the owner didn't like our gay column. Casey and I then talked about it—should we write a piece and tell everyone, including his many gay customers, that her column had cost us that account?

But we didn't. "He could change," I remember Casey saying.

Instead, Casey took the high road, helping to organize a group for gay and lesbian youth and becoming a role model for all young people whom she encountered.

She was a loving, but tough editor. She believed, as I do, that going too easy on interns and writers will not help their future. She dropped people who didn't show up when expected. She was known as "Little Miss Ironfist" around the office.

Casey showed the kind of responsibility that young people need to see. If I was out of the office on assignment or a day off, she came in earlier than usual, not later because "the boss" was away. "That's when I need to be here the most," she would say matter-of-factly. She made deadlines. She didn't take it personally when I criticized her work or told her to just "get 'er done."

As a result, she is ready to take on the world. But not because of anything I taught her. Because of what she taught herself. And what she allowed herself to learn from the people around her.

Casey isn't the only one. Not only the JFP offices, but Jackson and Mississippi as a whole are filled with young people with passion and spirit who can make a real difference in their world. They are influential, they are powerful, and they are to be reckoned with.

But most of all, they are the next generation of Mississippians who can finish what others have started, and then some. We applaud them and their efforts. We urge them to do even more, to help even more young people to be who they are becoming. They are building unity rather then division, doing rather than complaining.

We're in good hands, Casey. But don't be a stranger.

Previous Comments

ID

71259

Comment

You know...I thought I was done tearing up just a little thinking of Casey. Thanks a lot Donna. Now I'm crying all over again.

Author

emilyb

Date

2006-01-11T22:12:41-06:00

ID

71260

Comment

I'm not crying. Just sniffling quietly. I, too, spent 18 years away, before the homing beacon went off. In part because, as Donna points out, there were no visible mentors for young, feminist, liberal, populist, left wing freaks back in the day. I think it took 18 years of living in an area where my views are "normal" and even slightly right of center to give me the mental fortitude to come back. That, and finally starting to be old enough to just not care so much about what other people think.

Author

kate

Date

2006-01-12T10:17:07-06:00

ID

71261

Comment

now it's my turn to cry! goodness! what a surprise to see this. it's so lovely, donna, and i really do have faith in the dozens (maybe more) of young people all committed to loving jackson and thrusting it into new movements. meeting all of these young influentials at the photo shoot at the natural science museum a few weeks ago, i knew, too, that the city is in good hands. just walking around fondren will show you, too. you can usually find at least a handful of people camped out at 2906 or cups or rainbow plotting some new event or art project or column. thank you for your avenue, donna, for letting 22-year-olds write about gay marriage or their city or whatever else. i think the clincher for me was always that you didn't treat me like a 22-year-old writer but quite simply as a writer. i love you all. i need a subscription! i hate having to see the cover in a tiny little jpeg. i want a huge version!

Author

casey

Date

2006-01-12T11:34:52-06:00

ID

71262

Comment

I enjoyed the column too and wish there was some format once a month where all the thinkers who have a love-hate relationship with Mississippi could mix and mingle.

Author

someone

Date

2006-01-12T15:59:15-06:00

ID

71263

Comment

We need to bring back the Lounge. HERMAN, help me! Seriously, let's make it the last Thursday of every month or some such and just do it.

Author

DonnaLadd

Date

2006-01-12T16:57:50-06:00

ID

71264

Comment

Casey-I miss you. Have my children. Ladd-I almost emailed you the other day and screamed LOUNGE!! I need to get with people that think and TALK. Do You Hear Me?

Author

Lori G

Date

2006-01-12T17:06:02-06:00

ID

71265

Comment

Would the fact that I work for a paper that's under the umbrella of the CL forfeit my Lounge invitation? I'm starved for intelligent conversation and have been since I moved to Jackson.

Author

someone

Date

2006-01-12T17:22:11-06:00

ID

71266

Comment

That depends. Are you cute? Wait, wait. Let me put that another way. Are you alarmingly attractive? :)

Author

Lori G

Date

2006-01-12T17:29:27-06:00

ID

71267

Comment

Well, I hope my physical appearance isn't alarming to anyone. :) But I am actually a single girl looking for an intelligent single guy. Those have been hard to locate since moving here. I'd also like to find a few friends with original thoughts who like to discuss books, politics, religion, etc.

Author

someone

Date

2006-01-12T17:40:07-06:00

ID

71268

Comment

You are my new best friend. :) Same hunt, same luck.

Author

Lori G

Date

2006-01-12T17:43:12-06:00

ID

71269

Comment

Well maybe we'll meet up sometime and can hang. I've really enjoyed your columns.

Author

someone

Date

2006-01-12T17:52:39-06:00

ID

71270

Comment

Would the fact that I work for a paper that's under the umbrella of the CL forfeit my Lounge invitation? Of course not. You'd wouldn't believe how many Friends of the JFP are associated with the Gannet Corp. They wouldn't, either. I'm starved for intelligent conversation I bet. ;-) and have been since I moved to Jackson. OK, we'll Lounge. BUT, this month we have a humongous Lounge-type activity at the end of the month (get yo'self on the Lounge List fast!). So the official Lounges probably won't start until February. That is, unless y'all just want to declare the 19th a Lounge and go for it. I could probably do that. Not the 26th, though. That's hell week.

Author

DonnaLadd

Date

2006-01-12T17:54:58-06:00

ID

71271

Comment

How do I sign up for the list?

Author

someone

Date

2006-01-12T17:58:11-06:00

ID

71272

Comment

On the top of the JFP index page. Just put your e-mail address in the Lounge e-mail box.

Author

DonnaLadd

Date

2006-01-12T18:14:50-06:00

ID

71273

Comment

You can click here, and there should be a little box in the upper right corner where you can enter your email addy. And welcome! I remember that other thread we had, on events for folks who don't do much with the music/bar scene. Now that I know you're female and single--uh, I mean, now that I've had more time to think over options--I might be able to help brainstorm a bit, so please always feel free to drop me an email. Re the C-L: To a certain extent it's like being angry about the weather. I mean, clearly we criticize the C-L because we have higher expectations for it than it's currently delivering, which means that (a) We see a lot of potential in the paper, and (b) We don't think it's all lost. Personally, I happen to know a very intelligent thirtyish single female who writes for the C-L and enjoys talking politics and religion. If you're her, shame on you for not saying hi and letting me know it's you. :P You'll like the Lounge. And I say this as someone who hasn't actually been to one yet, but knows enough of the people involved to know that anything they're involved with must be fun and/or worthwhile. Unless they're into communal root canals or something. Cheers, TH

Author

Tom Head

Date

2006-01-12T18:15:28-06:00

ID

71274

Comment

Thanks. Well, I am a 30-something female, but I don't think you and I have ever been officially introduced, and I work for one of the C-L's smaller newspapers, not downtown. So I'm not being sneaky. Looking forward to the Lounge.

Author

someone

Date

2006-01-12T18:31:49-06:00

ID

71275

Comment

I was actually thinking of going to the "Conversations" thing advertised in the JFP Thursday, Jan. 19. Maybe the next Lounge could be held there. I think it's at Vibrations, or something. The ad is in the JFP this week.

Author

someone

Date

2006-01-12T20:01:33-06:00