Rev. Jesse Jackson wasn't perfect, but his influence can't be denied

Over the years, there have been several moments when I found myself cringing when others spoke about the Rev. Jesse L. Jackson Sr.

I’ve often been taken aback by the criticisms.

Some complained that he was always seeking the cameras, sticking his nose in matters where it didn’t belong. Some railed against the reverend, saying he was always talking about racism or speaking of problems that had been solved. And others criticized Jackson, saying he was soaking up the spotlight and not allowing others to raise their voices.

Some critics would cite mistakes he’d made in his personal and professional lives — things he shouldn’t have done and words he shouldn’t have said.

For sure, Jackson wasn’t a perfect man. But I always found it hard to digest that kind of talk.

In grammar school and high school, I learned of the words and the works of many iconic leaders of the Civil Rights Movement, most notably those of Malcolm X and the Rev. Martin Luther King Jr. I often wondered what it must have been like to experience seeing them and hearing them in real time. I imagined an aura around them as they confronted a nation, spoke with passion and energized millions more to join the fight.

As I learned of those historical Black icons, another one, Jackson, was being shaped and molded right before my eyes in my hometown. Soon he, too, ascended to first-name status, especially in Chicago.

The generation before me had Malcolm and Martin. I had Jesse. And in time, he developed that same aura that I imagined of other civil rights icons before him.

Coming of age in Chicago in the 1970s and 1980s, it was impossible to ignore Jesse. Even before he became a household name, his message and his mission captivated me.

His words — and the ways in which he delivered them — have been inspiring. His message that we’re not defined by our circumstances still resonates with me today. Over the years, I’ve leaned on those words during times of hardship, particularly in my youth, growing up in a single-parent home. And I’ve found his boldness an affirming comfort in pushing back against stereotypical narratives about Black people and speaking out against racial injustice.

The framing by which I came to understand the struggle for Black liberation and equality in America — and the ways to address it — was shaped, in part, by Jackson’s voice and his actions. I’ve had the honor of speaking with him directly during roundtable discussions about the modern-day struggles facing Black communities — the same struggles they’ve always endured in one form or another.

Jesse always connected the dots, tying our past to our present by linking the openly racist practices of yesterday to the inequitable policies of today. And he engaged directly with leaders of politics, business and community — alerting them of the consequences of their actions and forging deals and alliances to provide remedies.

Before Harold, Michael, Oprah and Barack became Chicago institutions, there was Jesse. And while some may not share the same love for Jackson as they do for Washington, Jordan, Winfrey and Obama, the meaningful impact Jackson has had can’t be denied. As has been detailed in numerous stories following his death, the footprint of Jackson’s work and influence was massive. He’s touched the lives of so many people in this city, this country and across the world.

The lives of both Martin and Malcolm were cut short by assassins. Jesse lived longer than the two of them combined, but his character has been too often assassinated.

The worst things I’ve heard are the accusations that Jackson was a con man, profiting from a myth that racism is still alive. But those critics are wrong. The Civil Rights Movement of the 1950s and 1960s helped change laws and ushered in a new era of consciousness about our nation’s most challenging subject: race. But the goals of the movement have not yet been fully achieved. The playing field is still not level, and the venom of prejudice is still very much alive.

The fight for liberation and equality for Black people continues, as it does for other people of color, women, the LGBTQ+ community, Jewish people, Muslims and people living with disabilities. At various points in his career, Jesse fought for all of them.

In this moment, as Jackson is laid to rest, let’s also lay the criticisms of him to rest. Instead, let’s reflect on his message, let’s honor his mission, and let’s pick up the mantle.

There’s still so much work to be done.

Alden Loury is data projects editor for WBEZ and writes a column for the Sun-Times.