From the Editor , The People’s Paper MS
Photo Credit: E. Perkins FB Page
When a recent three part series on John M. Perkins ran, something surprising, and a little heartbreaking, started showing up in our inbox.
Message after message came in from readers in their 40s and younger.
“I’ve never heard of him.” “How did I grow up in Simpson County and not know this story?”
So why haven’t we heard his name?
If Dr. Perkins’ story is so powerful, why do so many people in our own community say, “I never learned this”?
There are several hard truths in that question.
• Our local curriculum rarely centers local Black history. Textbooks might mention national figures, but they almost never trace how ordinary people in places like Mendenhall organized, bled, and built. When the story skips from Washington, D.C., to Jackson, Mississippi, small towns disappear.
• We often separate church stories from history stories. Because Perkins was a pastor, some people file him away as just a preacher, not realizing that his Bible studies grew into voter drives, boycotts, and schools. That split allows us to miss how faith communities shaped public life.
• We do not always ask our elders. Many people who marched with Perkins, registered to vote through his efforts, or shopped differently during the boycott are still alive, but we have not always sat at their kitchen tables and listened. Their memories are living archives that go unrecorded until it is too late.
• Our media has short term memory. We should know. Headlines chase the latest controversy. However, slow, faithful work, the kind Perkins modeled, rarely trends. Without intentional storytelling, giants become footnotes, then disappear altogether.
The result is a generation walking on ground they do not realize is holy, never told who planted the trees they are sitting under.
We received one direct message that asked us, “Why are you spewing hate and divide? That’s not Christian.”
Let us explain why knowing our Simpson County giants matters. This question arose from an email:
“Does it really matter if people know one more name from the 1960s?”
It does. Knowing our local giants is about more than trivia. It is about identity, hope, and responsibility.
Research on youth development shows that local role models, people from the same streets and schools who faced similar obstacles, give young people a stronger sense of belonging. That kind of possibility does more than distant celebrities ever can.
When teens see someone from their own community who stood up to injustice, built institutions, and lived out their faith in public, they can imagine themselves doing the same.
Celebrating community heroes also strengthens neighborhoods. How? We are glad you asked. Recognizing local mentors, organizers, teachers, and elders builds social trust and resilience, especially for young people navigating a confusing world.
So when we name and honor that work, we tell our children, “This is who we are. This is what we value. This is what courage looks like at home.”
There is another reason. Remembering giants like Perkins, who is still alive, keeps us honest. His story forces us to ask what has changed since those boycotts and voter drives. And, wait for it, what has not. It invites us to measure our current civic life against the sacrifices that were made so we could stand where we stand now.
The lesson is also a question. What can we do now?
If the direct messages and comments after the series told me anything, it is this: people are hungry to know the stories they were never taught. We can do something about that.
• We can teach Dr. Perkins’ story in our churches, classrooms, and homes, not just in February but all year long.
• We can record oral histories with elders who remember the boycotts, the bus rides, the Bible studies, the fear, and the faith.
• We can lift up other local giants: the first Black professionals in our county, the organizers, the teachers, the mothers and fathers who pushed their children to dream bigger than the color line.
• We can show our children living examples, connecting historic figures like Perkins with people still doing quiet, faithful work right now.
Maybe the more important question is not “How have we never heard of him?” but “What will we do now that we have?”
Because once you know that a man from Simpson County endured a brutal beating, turned his pain into a ministry of reconciliation, and helped transform communities from Mendenhall to Jackson and beyond, you cannot say justice is impossible. You can only ask what role you will play in the story he helped start right here at home.
