GIỚI THIỆU VỀ TẬP NÀY
The day before the Georgia Democratic primary. And I'm sitting down with State Representative Derrick Jackson, the man I've been fighting for, the man I believe in, the man who is the most qualified candidate in this race.
I'm his campaign manager. I've been putting up signs, organizing events, managing his social media, writing his speeches, hosting prayer calls. I've been doing this work for months. And I believe in him.
But today, I saw something that I can't shake.
I saw signs for candidates—Miracle Rankin, Jen Jordan, and Rep. Derrick Jackson, ripped out of the ground and thrown on the sidewalks in predominantly white neighborhoods. I saw them laying under trees. And I got an eerie feeling. A feeling that connected me to the ancestors who watched their sons and brothers and fathers hung from trees.
The signs are bodies. The trees are lynching trees. And I am witnessing, in real time, the systematic erasure of Black political power.
