It was an honor to be invited to Kitchen Table Conversations with Lisa Sharon Harper to reflect on the life and legacy of Rev. Jesse Jackson and on my edited volume, Keeping Hope Alive: Sermons and Speeches of The Rev. Jesse Jackson, Sr.
This live conversation about the life of Rev. Jesse Jackson brought both laughter and tears as we reflected on the rich and courageous life he lived in the struggle for civil rights and social justice for all people. We remembered not only the public leader, but the personal man who believed deeply in hope and dignity, for everyone. His life reminds us that justice work is both necessary and sacred.
I invite you to listen to this meaningful conversation and to read Keeping Hope Alive, a testament to his enduring hope and vision for a more just world.
Repost of Kitchen Table Conversations with Lisa Sharon Harper.
Grace Ji-sun Kim is Professor of Theology at Earlham School of Religion and the prolific author and editor of 26 books, including Keeping Hope Alive: Sermons and Speeches of The Rev. Jesse Jackson, Sr. Ten years in the making, this book introduces readers to many of the most impactful messages that Rev. Jackson ever offered to the world.
In this episode, Grace and I reflect on Rev. Jackson’s life and work, the impact of his work on our own lives, and consider key messages in his 1984 and 1988 DNC speeches and their resonance in our world today.
Toward the end of our conversation, I read Rev. Jackson’s autobiographical narrative shared within his 1988 DNC Primary speech, “Common Ground.” Here is the excerpt I read. He begins reflecting on comments from young people saying he didn’t understand their plight, because he lives in powerful spaces:
“Jesse Jackson, you don’t understand my situation. You be on television. You don’t understand. I see you with the big people. You don’t understand my situation.”
I understand. You see me on TV, but you don’t know the me that makes me, me. They wonder, “Why does Jesse run?” because they see me running for the White House. They don’t see the house I’m running from.
I have a story. I wasn’t always on television. Writers were not always outside my door. When I was born late one afternoon, October 8th, in Greenville, South Carolina, no writers asked my mother her name. Nobody chose to write down our address. My mama was not supposed to make it, and I was not supposed to make it. You see, I was born of a teenage mother, who was born of a teenage mother.
I understand. I know abandonment, and people being mean to you, and saying you’re nothing and nobody and can never be anything.
I understand. Jesse Jackson is my third name. I’m adopted. When I had no name, my grandmother gave me her name. My name was Jesse Burns ‘til I was 12. So I wouldn’t have a blank space, she gave me a name to hold me over. I understand when nobody knows your name. I understand when you have no name.
I understand. I wasn’t born in the hospital. Mama didn’t have insurance. I was born in the bed at [the] house. I really do understand. Born in a three-room house, bathroom in the backyard, slop jar by the bed, no hot and cold running water. I understand. Wallpaper used for decoration? No. For a windbreaker. I understand. I’m a working person’s person. That’s why I understand you, whether you’re Black or White. I understand work. I was not born with a silver spoon in my mouth. I had a shovel programmed for my hand.
My mother, a working woman. So many of the days she went to work early, with runs in her stockings. She knew better, but she wore runs in her stockings so that my brother and I could have matching socks and not be laughed at at school. I understand.
At 3 o’clock on Thanksgiving Day, we couldn’t eat turkey because Momma was preparing somebody else’s turkey at 3 o’clock. We had to play football to entertain ourselves. And then around 6 o’clock she would get off the Alta Vista bus, and we would bring up the leftovers and eat our turkey -- leftovers, the carcass, the cranberries -- around 8 o’clock at night. I really do understand.
Every one of these funny labels they put on you, those of you who are watching this broadcast tonight in the projects, on the corners, I understand. Call you outcast, low down, you can’t make it, you’re nothing, you’re from nobody, subclass, underclass; when you see Jesse Jackson, when my name goes in nomination, your name goes in nomination.
I was born in the slum, but the slum was not born in me. And it wasn’t born in you, and you can make it.
Wherever you are tonight, you can make it. Hold your head high; stick your chest out. You can make it. It gets dark sometimes, but the morning comes. Don’t you surrender!...”
Keep hope alive! Keep hope alive! Keep hope alive! On tomorrow night and beyond, keep hope alive!
*I am always grateful for Lisa Sharon Harper’s work on social justice. Please follow her work and read her books too. Listen to her share her book, Fortune on Madang Podcast hosted by FaithAndReason.ORG,
**Read my article for Good Faith Media, “Honoring the Work and Legacy of Jesse Jackson,”
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