Jackson Free Press

I remember thinking, "If I had a lighter, I'd wave it through the air." Taking in the majestic scene before me, however, I couldn't have done much of anything. I stood captivated by the sheer power of a song, a ridiculous grin on my face. My world had just exploded, giving way to something better and infinitely more beautiful.

The all-girl band on stage, Calico Panache, was rocking through the time-honored classic, "Killing Me Softly with His Song," and everyone was singing along. I watched as people threw their arms in the air, swaying to the music with their eyes closed. The pink and red lights emanating from the stage reflected in their smiles.

I opened my eyes wide to the glittering atmosphere of Hal & Mal's where I was a Chick Ball volunteer. I was maybe the only person standing still. I watched as so many people of different backgrounds and ages and levels of income came together at the JFP Chick Ball July 9 to support the Center for Violence Prevention. I stared at their faces as they sang, laughed and danced in unison, the low rumble of voices flowing together into the music. I hadn't known that this awe-inspiring level of fellowship existed in this city.

Tears welling in my eyes, I knew I wanted to be a part of this scene that I wasn't familiar with. For me, that packed room represented the best of a city I had never been particularly fond of. Born and raised in Jackson, I had always been
biding my time, waiting for the day when I'd be free to leave and never come back.

Growing up, I always found Jackson exceptionally boring. There never seemed to be anything to do, and nothing was ever going on. It was just this small city where the roads were bad, public school was supposedly scary, and you went to the movies if you wanted any sort of fun. I couldn't wait to get out. I was anticipating the day when I'd graduate and go off to some hotshot college in a faraway city where things were happening.

I never defined those "things" in my mind. And, of course, I hadn't yet realized that those undefined things were happening right here in Jackson.

I've heard many call Jackson boring, and in the past, I would have agreed. I definitely wasn't the only one who shared those sentiments. I can understand how it might seem that way for young people, but many adults feel the same.

Granted, Jackson is not New York City, but I now believe that it has the great quality of being what you make of it.

It is so easy to shape your experience here. Jackson is malleable, open to interpretation. If you want something to happen, you can easily make it happen. If you don't like something, make a change.

Fun is here, you just have to find it or make it. You can always catch music downtown, and the city offers dozens of ways to get involved in charity and community. Living in Jackson, we have the power to touch lives and change things, and I don't think there is anything more interesting than that. A city like this one needs its residents to shape it, people: We are Jackson.

The sense of detachment I've always felt for my hometown has completely melted away. Because of my race and religion (Asian American from Bangladesh and Muslim), I've always felt wildly out of place in the South. These days, I don't feel any sort of conflict toward the city anymore. The scene at the Chick Ball changed me. I'm proud of my city for its potential, and I'm proud of the culture I've been shown.

I'm no longer the person observing or standing still. From now on, I'm one of the people swaying to the music.

Editorial intern Sadaaf Mamoon is a rising senior at St. Andrew's Episcopal School. She loves film scores, Greek mythology and naming inanimate objects. Her spirit animal is a pink fairy armadillo. She contributed many stories and listings to this issue in addition to this column.