Public Safety Means Protection: Asia’s Jackson Story

I never knew Jackson was dangerous until I was told it was. I was severely sheltered, and my upbringing was characterized by a suburban HOA and the occasional visit to my grandmother’s house on Northside Drive. My neighborhood was predominantly white, and I rarely had to consider public safety.

It wasn’t until I moved outside of Jackson that I learned about its reputation for being unsafe. When I invited my college friends to visit, they’d quickly suggest alternative locations in Madison or Flowood. “My parents always told me not to go to Jackson.” Something I always heard that left me wondering what they knew about Jackson that I didn’t know.

Growing up, my dad was a police officer in Madison, and he’d always tell me stories that were honestly way more heinous than the shootings you hear about on the 5 o’clock news. But of course, what happens in Madison stays in Madison, while every crack stepped on in South Jackson gets its own headline.

The way my college friends spoke about Jackson made it sound like Chicago in the 80’s. As if the moment you crossed city limits, there was an immediate target on your back. By this time, I had already lost two friends to gun violence, and my rose-colored glasses had worn off. Still, the only time I’ve ever felt unsafe in Jackson was when I was around people I didn’t feel comfortable with.

When I think of public safety, I always attribute it to the company you keep. There’s a reason why I never felt unsafe visiting my grandma on Northside Drive, my friend’s house in West Jackson when she had to transfer to Jim Hill, or going to church on Medgar Evers Boulevard. These are all locations that are heavily policed and often reported as dangerous, yet I never felt a sense of danger being there, because I trusted the people I was with, and their neighborhoods felt like a second home to me.

Part of public safety in Jackson has a lot to do with the poorly portrayed narrative it’s been burdened with. Over time, I’ve become incredibly defensive over how people speak about my city. People who have never been to Jackson, don’t know or want to know anything about Jackson, tend to have a lot to say about it. Like all prejudices, it’s a learned behavior influenced by the constant fearmongering from local Fox News and their parents, who moved out of Jackson post-integration. It doesn’t help that Jackson is a predominantly Black city in a red state that takes no credit for its lack of funding and has let most of its historical neighborhoods fall into poverty. If I gave most of Madison’s residents an arts and craft project to paint a picture of Jackson, it would be those same neighborhoods not even acknowledging the history it holds, the talent it fosters, or the families that are all it has left. Especially considering the political climate of today, I’d feel safer with the average family from Jackson than anywhere in Oxford.

Public safety is about protection, but it’s also about support and advocacy. If we could direct the same energy we put into condemning Jackson, toward uplifting it in equal measure, then not only could we find true protection, but maybe even harmony.