Jackson Free Press

I left Mississippi in 1983 to find my place in the world. It wasn't in my home state, I knew then; I just didn't fit here. My spirit was a bit too free and independent to follow a traditional path; my heart bled a bit too easily to belong in the prevailing political climate; my voice was a bit too loud in a state that liked its women a bit more, shall we say, cooperative and demure.

I wanted the big city, big friends, big experience, a big life. So I set out to make it so, effectively severing my Southern roots, I thought. If my state didn't want me, why should I want it? I could visit family and friends back home, I thought, but I could never live here again. Au revoir.

I was wrong, of course. You can go home again. Sometimes you must—especially if you're from Mississippi. There's something about this place.

Don't get me wrong. I lived out there, and I learned, and I loved, and I seethed at stupidity and ignorance, just like I did back here. I was impatient for something I couldn't quite put my finger on, and I bounced around, trying to make a difference, which maybe I did here and there. The lessons I learned along the way were complicated, and were more about myself than any place. But my Mississippi tether was never cut, and as I grew up (a little) and got (a little) wiser, I learned a really incredible lesson about life: Other people cannot make you happy. Neither can a place. Not even a delightful city such as Manhattan where I started my first newspaper and had an unencumbered view of the World Trade towers. Or a state with gorgeous weather such as Colorado where I woke up every morning staring at Pike's Peak. Or an idyllic island like Nantucket where the clock really can stop ticking.

I got my first taste of real happiness when I met Todd Stauffer in Colorado Springs seven years ago, I guess (unlike a good Southern belle, I keep losing track). After all that time kissing frogs, I met someone who, no, did not make me happy, but helped me to make myself happy with trust, love, humor, respect and by expressing just as much compassion toward other people as I did. He accepted me, and that helped me accept myself and reject self-doubt and Mississippi-bred inferiority, and focus my thoughts and energy on things that really mattered to me: community, diversity, young people, pets, good books, amazing conversation, the environment, my work.

Our shared path led back to New York City and then, shockingly to us both, to Mississippi. My focus on what really mattered to me unearthed something I thought I'd given up: a love for my home state.

So here we are. And in this soul-baring moment—as this paper celebrates its first birthday and I face my 42nd in a matter of days—I must tell you all, y'all, something straight from my heart. I've never been happier than I am right now, right here in Jackson, Miss. Doing this publication, and getting to know this community and defending it and telling its stories, has been like an out-of-body experience. Every single day is magical. Every day matters. Every day holds surprises. Every day brings another telephone call or chance meeting with someone who has been touched by what we're trying to do, or a story one of our writers has told. I now know heroes like no other state has: people like Bob Moses and James Meredith and William Winter and Jimmie Travis. I've never cried so much in my life as I have this past year—and usually out of sheer emotion caused by some aspect of this project. I'm crying now just thinking about it. (Hey, I'm a bad belle, but I'm still a girl).

If you haven't figured it out by now, I'm trying to tell you what this last year, what this city and the legions of residents who run themselves ragged trying to help pull together a healthy, vibrant city have meant to me personally. Every e-mail, every letter, every phone call—especially those you won't allow me to print; you know who you are—is another piece of the puzzle. I've never done anything where the response was so immediate and so relevant, and I thank each of you for allowing us to serve the community in such a way.

But I really want to hold a mirror up for all of you so you can see how amazing we are as a city and a community. The JFP is a special publication, no doubt, but it's not because a high-priced team of editors swooped in with a boatload of money and a business plan built to bilk local businesses. This thing's ground-up, and it's about each of you. More than anything else, the Jackson Free Press is strong evidence that we can offer to ourselves and to the rest of the world that this city and state are filled with creative, talented, energetic, caring people.

The JFP is simply a conduit for the community's talents and passions. When the Association of Alternative Newsweeklies miraculously gave this band of misfits a membership this year, they referred to early issues they read as a one-woman show, meaning me, of course. With all due respect to those folks, that was pure wrong. My strongest talent, I will admit, is gathering people together. Like my Mama before me, I am a connector—and a force greater than I decided that I was to use that talent to connect all y'all and your talents and, too often, silenced voices. I have respectfully accepted that role, and it is giving me personal fulfillment that I cannot put into words.

Now allow me to vent a little. Many politicians in this state have traditionally built careers tearing us down, and saying we're not smart enough, or educated enough, or daring enough, or safe enough or whatever enough to be all that we can be (and deserve better than them). Our being No. 50—whether in health, safety, education—serves some folks well, both in and outside the state. Meantime, we've struggled with the legacy of some amazingly cruel crap our forebears did to all of us, teaching us that we have to tear someone else down in order to feel good about ourselves. No wonder happiness can be so elusive.

My challenge to you at this one-year anniversary—which in itself is remarkable for a scraggly team of folks who have robbed their penny banks to present this forum—is to not let the bastards get you down. In other words, stand up for Jackson, and Mississippi, and education, and diversity. Believe in yourself, and your community, and your creativity. Tell the naysayers to do or say something positive, or shut the hell up. And brace yourselves for some major city trash talk as the next local elections approach (as if the current gubernatorial elections aren't nauseating enough). I'm so sick of divisiveness, and doggin' and people downin' what they fear or don't understand. It's time to demand better, to just not allow ourselves to be divided because of our religious or our fiscal or our moral beliefs.

Please listen to me when I say this: I have never met more creative people in my life—not in the East Village or San Francisco or Paris or wherever—than all y'all. It's simply true. Alice Walker once said that she sees real hope only in the South. The last year has shown me exactly what she meant.

Thank you all for your support and encouragement. Here's to many more.
Donna Ladd is the editor-in-chief of the Jackson Free Press.

Previous Comments

ID

68533

Comment

Thank you for a lovely post. As a former expatriate (fifth generation Jacksonian) who has come home, (well, at least as close as the Gulf Coast) I found myself nodding my head and understanding exactly what you meant. Welcome back - and welcome home.

Author

Fielding

Date

2003-10-03T14:16:11-06:00

ID

68534

Comment

Thank you, Fielding. It is certainly good to be home, disgusting politics aside. ;-D

Author

ladd

Date

2003-10-03T14:23:49-06:00

ID

68535

Comment

heh heh - fair enough

Author

Fielding

Date

2003-10-03T14:31:02-06:00

ID

68536

Comment

Thanks for coming home, and thanks for running a newspaper, and thanks for giving us all an intelligent place to express ourselves. Of course, you are now stuck here for the duration. We'll never let you leave.

Author

Kate

Date

2003-10-03T20:00:25-06:00

ID

68537

Comment

Hey, I can't seem to get out of town for the @#$%^& weekend! We're still on our computers, here on Friday night (and, I might add, so are some of y'all ). Seriously, y'all all are stuck with us now. That's what you get for being so welcoming. And thanks for the kind comments. It's nice to have appreciative responses after one opens a vein in the middle of the night right before press deadline. ;-)

Author

ladd

Date

2003-10-03T20:59:46-06:00

ID

68538

Comment

Geez, Kate. Now I'm really worried about that homing device!?! I'm starting to wish I lived in Jackson so I could pick up copies of JFP without having to beg my relatives to pick them up and mail them to me. Shame that I work in that other creative place--and as a writerm no less--and don't have the kinds of conversations with people that I have here on the JFP boards. I'd like to add my thanks, too. Thanks Donna! Often at work, when I should be editing someone else's piece or writing my own, I steal time away to visit JFP on the Web. I can't stay away! Is that the homing device starting to work, Kate?

Author

Nia

Date

2003-10-04T10:14:34-06:00

ID

68539

Comment

Look out, Nia! I see the signs. You'd better have your neck X-rayed for that tiny implant. ;-D Seriously, we do subscriptions, you know. And many of our subscriptions are sent by parents here to their kids living somewhere else; I guess they're trying to tease those homing devices into going off. I'm tellin' you, girl, you better watch out. And you should see our operation manager's amazing loft downtown--for less than $1,000 downtown! (I know, that was cruel.) While we're in the appreciation mode, thanks to you and all the regular posters for keeping good conversation going on the site while I'm off doing things like writing stories. Cheers.

Author

ladd

Date

2003-10-04T10:25:35-06:00

ID

68540

Comment

Nia, you are doomed. Doomed I tell you! Come on home now. Seriously, anytime anyone at work (I "work" in silicon valley, from my home in Jackson) gives me a hard time about the south, I just point them to this web site. And they're so amazed that it's a real web site, since they are convinced we don't have electricity or running water or anything down here. Then they read the content, and they're blown away.

Author

Kate

Date

2003-10-04T10:46:23-06:00

ID

68541

Comment

Heh heh - us eth efact that you are from Mississippi to your advantage - it is sometimes good to be under-estimated. Sure, we walk slow and we talk slow - there ain't nothin' slow about our thought processes.

Author

Fielding

Date

2003-10-05T20:02:31-06:00

ID

68542

Comment

Oh Donna, that bit about the loft was really cruel! :-) I have a Manhattan steal with a 3BR for slightly more than that. And everytime my parents visit they say, "When are you going to get a bigger place?" And it's a REAL 3BR! They still have no idea of Manhattan real estate. Okay Kate, maybe I'll break down and go back to being a freelancer so that I can work from anywhere! And Fielding, no one believes me when I say I'm from MS; they think it's a joke until they realize I'm not laughing!

Author

Nia

Date

2003-10-06T08:05:45-06:00

ID

68543

Comment

Nia, you almost made me snort my coffee through my nose! No one ever believes I'm from Mississippi either. (Sometimes, it's the Mississippians who don't believe I'm from Mississippi - but that's another story.) It was even funnier when we were still living in Oakland, and planning our move back to Mississippi. The comments and expressions were just priceless (and a few were just tactless).

Author

Kate

Date

2003-10-06T09:37:59-06:00

ID

68544

Comment

I just moved back from Louisville, KY. It's like the borg... you've been assimilated.

Author

Gibbs

Date

2003-10-06T23:55:48-06:00

ID

68545

Comment

Nice article Donna. Congrats on the one year anniversary. I guess I'm a little less liberal than you, so the prospect of "going home" is more difficult for me (I've been gone 23 years). I've considered it many times, but beyond the normal factors of relocation (jobs, home, etc.), is the current state of my birth town. Whenever I get homesick, all I have to do is read a week's worth (or less) of the Clarion-Ledger and I'm cured. Hey, I live in a huge city (Houston) with its share of crime, but where I actually live and work is really safe. That's the beauty of a big city; you push all of the undesirable to the "other side" of town. Unfortunately, Jackson does not have that luxury. Who knows, maybe I'll make it back someday. Why else would I continue to punish myself by reading the JFP, the MBJ and the C-L online? You can never go home, but you sure as heck can read about it. I'll be in J-Town for a long weekend visit starting tomorrow and look forward to picking up a print edition. I love the Internet, but nothing beats getting a little ink on your fingers. ;-)

Author

Cecil

Date

2003-10-08T11:39:52-06:00

ID

68546

Comment

I (for one) am very happy to have you hear and to be able to enjoy your work. it makes my own life better.

Author

Jason Pollan

Date

2003-10-14T02:44:11-06:00