The Voice of Ida B Wells

Voice of Freedom

recent posts

about

  • Just Ask ….

    Before You Cast Your Vote, Ask the Questions That Matter

    Democracy does not die because citizens ask difficult questions. It dies when they stop asking them.

    The people of Minden deserve more than campaign slogans and familiar faces. They deserve leaders whose records can withstand public examination. Every candidate seeking public office should welcome scrutiny because public office belongs to the people—not to the individual holding it.

    Before you vote, don’t rely on rumors. Don’t rely on social media. Don’t rely on political endorsements. Rely on the public record.

    Request public documents. Read City Council minutes. Examine court records where applicable. Review ethics laws. Attend public meetings. Ask officials to explain their decisions. Hold every candidate to the same standard, regardless of their name, their connections, or their supporters.

    Ask questions such as:

    • What has this candidate’s record in public service shown about leadership and judgment?
    • How has this candidate responded when citizens demanded transparency?
    • Has this candidate demonstrated fairness, professionalism, and respect for every member of the community?
    • What evidence supports the promises being made during this campaign?
    • How will this candidate strengthen public trust in law enforcement?
    • When difficult decisions had to be made, what choices did this candidate make, and what were the results?

    The citizens of Minden are not asking for perfection. They are asking for honesty, accountability, and leadership worthy of the public’s trust.

    The strength of a community is measured not by how loudly its leaders speak, but by how willing they are to answer legitimate questions from the people they serve.

    An informed voter is the strongest defense against corruption, favoritism, and complacency. Read the records. Ask the questions. Follow the facts. Then cast your vote—not out of fear, loyalty, or habit, but with the confidence that comes from knowing you demanded accountability from those who seek to govern.

  • Is it you ?

    The election for Minden’s next Chief of Police is too important to be decided by campaign signs, handshakes, or political alliances. It should be decided by character, integrity, transparency, and a proven commitment to serving every citizen equally.

    Our community has lived through years of controversy, unanswered questions, and growing distrust. The next chief must be someone who restores confidence—not someone who leaves citizens wondering whether history will repeat itself.

    Every candidate should be prepared to answer difficult questions. Their leadership, judgment, disciplinary history, public record, and commitment to fairness should all be open for public examination. The people of Minden have the right to request public records, review court filings, and ask questions without being labeled as troublemakers. Accountability is not an attack; it is the foundation of public service.

    The history of racism in our region is real. It has shaped lives, institutions, and the relationship between law enforcement and the communities they serve. Because of that history, candidates for public office should be willing to speak openly about how they will earn the trust of every resident, regardless of race or neighborhood.

    This election is not about personalities. It is about whether the next Chief of Police will lead with fairness, transparency, and courage. The citizens of Minden deserve leadership that welcomes scrutiny instead of avoiding it, answers questions instead of dismissing them, and remembers that public office is a public trust.

    Don’t vote based on friendships. Don’t vote based on family names. Don’t vote based on political favors. Vote based on facts, documented records, demonstrated leadership, and the vision each candidate has for protecting every citizen of Minden equally under the law.

    The badge belongs to the people—not to politics. And the people have every right to demand the very best from those who seek to wear it.

  • Are you Surprised…. ?

    I’m not sure when the Black people of Minden are going to wake up and recognize what is happening right in front of us. The disrespect is no longer hidden—it is on full display.

    If it were not for a handful of committed individuals working tirelessly to preserve our history and culture, there likely would not have been a Juneteenth celebration at all. Yet when a video titled “Minden Over the Decades” is released, the contributions, faces, and stories of Black citizens are noticeably absent. What is featured repeatedly? A water tower. What is missing? The people who helped build this community.

    But should anyone really be surprised?

    Look at the restructuring that has taken place throughout City Hall. Look at who remains and who disappears. The black curtain has been pulled back, and familiar faces continue to vanish. After nearly a year, another Black employee appeared —as if one is enough to satisfy the appearance of diversity. The message seems clear: keep us cleaning, keep us at the recreation center, but don’t allow too many seats at the table where decisions are made.

    And where is the City Council? Silent.

    Questions continue to linger while accountability remains nowhere to be found. Concerns have been raised about relationships within City Hall that some citizens believe deserve closer examination. Yet these matters rarely seem to receive the public discussion they warrant.

    Instead of addressing the issues that impact taxpayers and city government, attention is diverted elsewhere. Perhaps when the stepping, fetching, and political theater comes to an end, this city can finally revisit the unanswered questions surrounding the $25,000 check signed by the current Utilities Manager and the City Clerk—questions that many citizens still believe deserve clear and transparent answers.

    A government that fears questions is a government that has forgotten who it works for. The people of Minden deserve answers, not silence.

  • The Performance.

    We are weary of having our stories filtered through the comfort and convenience of those who never carried the burden of our history. Black history in Minden ought not be told merely through the polished recollections of white locals who soften the wounds, rearrange the truth, and speak of our suffering as though it were a distant inconvenience. Let Black people tell Black history — the way it was lived, the way it was survived, and the way it still echoes through the hearts of the descendants left to carry its memory.

    The truth of what happened in Minden matters. The humiliation matters. The fear matters. The silencing matters. The generational scars carried by Black families matter. History is not merely a collection of dates and smiling photographs for public display; it is the living testimony of a people who endured discrimination, exclusion, and indignity while being told to remain grateful for crumbs of recognition.

    No city can truly improve while refusing to acknowledge that racism still lingers in its halls, its policies, and its practices. The first step toward healing is honesty. Not staged appearances during election season. Not carefully timed visits to Black churches for handshakes and photographs. Not speeches crafted to win votes while avoiding accountability. The question remains: where are these officials during the remaining years when the cameras disappear? Do Black citizens matter then?

    One cannot help but notice the pattern: Black supervisors removed, Black employees diminished, Black voices pushed aside — only for familiar faces to emerge during campaigns asking once again for trust and loyalty. Communities are not blind to hypocrisy simply because it is wrapped in political smiles.

    There are questions that deserve answers. Why do condemnations appear concentrated in Black neighborhoods while neglect elsewhere escapes the same scrutiny? Why are concerns regarding ethics and relationships among city leadership ignored when ordinary employees would likely face swift consequences under similar circumstances? Why are some shielded while others are scrutinized? Justice that bends for position and power is not justice at all.

    And what of the quiet humiliations hidden within offices and departments? What does it say when the only Black employee is concealed behind a curtain as though visibility itself is a problem? Symbols matter. Environments matter. Dignity matters. A city cannot proclaim itself “the friendliest city in the South” while fostering conditions that leave Black citizens feeling dismissed, isolated, and unheard.

    Meetings with leadership are postponed, canceled, or ignored depending on who seeks audience, while public relations spectacles receive immediate attention. Community concerns are treated as inconveniences while trivial ceremonies and symbolic titles are elevated above the pressing needs of the people.

    Even places celebrated locally carry painful reminders for many Black residents. Names and landmarks tied to eras of oppression reopen wounds that some would rather forget and others seem determined to romanticize. For many, such reminders are not harmless nostalgia — they are echoes of a Jim Crow spirit that refuses to fully release its grip on 71055.

    The Black citizens of Minden are not asking for favors. They are asking for honesty, accountability, fairness, and respect. They are asking for a city courageous enough to confront its truths rather than bury them beneath slogans, ceremonies, and election-year performances.

    For history, when truthfully told, does not merely expose injustice — it demands that it be answered.

  • In Plain Sight

    I shall speak plainly, for truth does not tremble when it stands alone.

    Has this city truly awakened, or does it still slumber beneath the weight of silence? Twenty-five thousand dollars sits upon the table—unanswered, unexamined—yet not a whisper dares disturb it. And now, as the season of elections draws near, we witness a sudden display of presence: handshakes extended, photographs taken, appearances made where absence once ruled.

    Observe closely. A man who once stood distant now finds himself among the very people he scarcely acknowledged—posing for pictures in those same worn brown shoes and an ill-fitting suit, as though repetition of appearance might pass for sincerity. But the people must not be fooled by staged moments and borrowed smiles.

    Power, when left unchecked, does not scatter—it gathers. It arranges itself carefully, like pieces upon a chessboard. And what do we see before us? Positions being filled, alliances being secured, influence consolidating within a single circle—when the ex leads the chamber, and whose husband seeks to be Chief. Thus, governance begins to resemble not public service, but private inheritance.

    And still, the people watch.

    Will no one rise to challenge what is plainly before us? Will we allow a photograph, a handshake, a flattering article—perhaps even the mention  “Moody’s Cafe”—to erase years marked by exclusion, dismissal, and the quiet clearing out of voices that once filled City Hall?

    Let us not confuse visibility with virtue.

    Diversity is not proven in moments of convenience, nor summoned only when votes are needed. It is revealed in consistent action, in equitable opportunity, in who is invited to the table—and who is not. If one’s presence is only welcomed in service roles or during election season, then it is not inclusion—it is utility.

    Do not be deceived.

    The measure of leadership is not found in who is seen during campaign season, but in who was valued when no one was watching.

  • Gotta be the Shoes!

    There comes a point when spectacle can no longer masquerade as service, and the people must discern the difference between appearance and accountability.

    I have watched, with growing concern, a leadership that seems more devoted to performance than to the pressing needs of its citizens—so much so that even the image presented becomes symbolic. Day after day, the same faded brown shoes make their appearance, worn not merely on the feet, but as a quiet emblem of stagnation. For while attire alone does not make the man, it does reflect a certain neglect—an unwillingness, perhaps, to refresh what has long grown tired, both in wardrobe and in governance.

    And while the public is asked to place its trust in those who govern, one must also take note of what is done in plain sight. Somewhere around 11:10 on Wednesday morning—during the very hours designated for public service—two City Hall employees were observed walking into a liquor store on Homer Road. Among them, the mayor’s secretary, accompanied by a colleague. One cannot help but ask: is this what has become of city time? Is this the stewardship citizens are to accept while their own needs wait in line?

    A mayor may present himself as “hands-on,” but the timing of such engagement—particularly when it conveniently aligns with an election season—raises questions that cannot be ignored. True service is not seasonal; it is steadfast, consistent, and transparent.

    While the public is offered gestures and visibility, there remain deeper issues that demand urgent attention. The safeguarding of citizens’ personal information, the integrity of municipal systems, and the timely restoration of essential utility services during business hours are not luxuries—they are basic obligations of governance. When these duties falter, it is not merely an administrative oversight; it is a breach of public trust.

    Equally troubling is the pattern of leadership and appointments that appear rooted not in merit, but in familiarity. When positions of authority—particularly one as critical as Chief of Police—risk being filled from within personal or familial circles, the question of impartiality becomes unavoidable. A city cannot thrive under the weight of favoritism. It must be governed by those qualified, accountable, and representative of all its people.

    And let it be plainly stated: when the faces of influence and decision-making consistently fail to reflect the diversity of the community, it reveals more than coincidence—it exposes a system that has yet to fully reckon with equity.

    The people are watching. They are thinking. And they are no longer content with surface-level leadership—whether dressed in the same worn brown shoes or polished promises. They deserve integrity over image, service over show, and leadership that stands not only in visibility—but in truth.

  • Lights Out!

    Thank you for sharing your thoughts and story to Ms. Ida B. Wells.

    It appears that what was once a full crew has now been reduced to only two hands left to carry the burden. The lights may have been paid for and restored on paper, yet for the residents who sit in the dark, the service itself has yet to return. One must ask plainly: is this a failure of resources, or a failure of leadership within the Utilities Department?

    While the people wait for the most basic services owed to them, the mayor makes a careful show of public appearances—taking lunch with visiting representatives from Washington and reading storybooks to children in local schools. These gestures, though pleasant for the cameras, do little to warm a house left without power.

    Meanwhile, the departments meant to serve the citizens are left short-staffed and stretched thin during the very hours when the public depends on them most. The residents are not granted a reprieve, yet the workforce tasked with serving them has been cut back.

    Such conditions are often the harvest of a familiar practice: positions filled not by qualification but by friendship. When individuals are elevated from temporary agencies into municipal authority without the necessary experience, the people inevitably bear the cost of that decision.

    And so one cannot ignore the political winds blowing through these circumstances. When the pursuit of votes—particularly the securing of favor for the coming election—takes precedence over the proper staffing and functioning of city departments, the citizens are left to wonder whose interests are truly being served.

    For the public office is not a stage for performance nor a ladder for political comfort. It is a trust. And when that trust is neglected, it is the duty of the people to ask questions—loudly, clearly, and without apology.

  • Remember the Times

    The voices of racism do not always shout. Sometimes they whisper—soft enough for some to pretend they do not hear them, yet loud enough for those who know the history to recognize their sound.

    Integration in this town did not arrive until 1974. That is not ancient history. Many of the very students who once stood in opposition to Black children entering their “all-white” classrooms still walk these streets today. Time has passed, but for some, the spirit of exclusion has not. The years have changed the calendar, but not always the heart.

    One need not be a rocket scientist to read the room. Look around and see which spaces welcome us only in small numbers—just enough to claim fairness, but never enough to disturb the comfort of old traditions. There are institutions that proudly preserve a past that never intended for us to belong. A few are allowed through the door, while the structure itself remains unchanged.

    What is most curious is the contradiction. In some places our presence is unwelcome, yet our culture is eagerly consumed. Our music fills their celebrations. Our athletic gifts fill their stadiums. Our brilliance is welcomed where it entertains or profits, yet resisted where it demands equality.

    We even see it in education. They fight for entry into our historically Black institutions, yet work tirelessly to preserve their own schools as spaces where our presence remains limited. And somehow we are expected to applaud this arrangement.

    What is more troubling still is how easily we surrender our own spaces. Places built from the struggle and endurance of our people are too often handed over without reflection. Take “Miller Quarters,” once a place of shotgun houses where Black families lived under the weight of segregation. Now it is spoken of as a landmark—something to commemorate.

    But we must ask ourselves: What exactly are we memorializing?

    Must every reminder of our past be tied to oppression? Are there not places in this town that speak of Black achievement, pride, and community? The hospital on Talton Street or Maiden Lane. Places where life was built, where dignity flourished despite the obstacles placed before us.

    To elevate a place that symbolizes hardship while ignoring places that symbolize triumph is not remembrance—it is distortion.

    And the insult deepens when we continue to honor the names of men whose hands were stained with the terror of lynching our young Black men. To raise their names on signs and buildings is not history—it is celebration of cruelty.

    We must remember where we came from. But remembrance must come with truth, dignity, and wisdom. Our history should not be used to chain us to humiliation, but to remind us of the strength it took to survive it.

    If this town truly wishes to honor its past, then let it tell the whole story—and let the voices of justice speak louder than the whispers of racism.

  • No Title Needed

    There are times when a thinking citizen cannot help but pause, look around, and ask what strange silence has settled over a town. For in cities across this nation, when malfeasance in office appears, the light of scrutiny soon follows. Yet here, in this quiet corner that proudly calls itself the “happiest town in the South,” wrongdoing seems to hide comfortably in the shadows while the public is asked to look the other way.

    But let us be clear: the people know.

    They know what has been whispered in hallways and discussed behind closed doors. They know that money has moved in ways that demand explanation. They know that questions remain unanswered. And still, the silence persists. One cannot help but wonder—has every voice been quieted, or merely persuaded to remain so?

    We have seen before where city funds have been used to settle matters quietly, where payouts have replaced accountability. Twenty-five thousand dollars remains a matter still resting on the table, yet few dare to speak its name. Meanwhile homes are condemned and somehow find their way into the hands of those connected to power, sometimes placed conveniently in the names of others.

    And now the public is asked to watch yet another chapter unfold in the choosing of a Chief of Police—one candidate who has sued the very city he now seeks to serve, another whose personal ties intertwine neatly with the current administration. Should the latter prevail, one might fairly ask whether this city will be governed not by the people, but by a comfortable circle of family and familiarity.

    The citizens would do well to open their eyes.

    For while this drama unfolds in the chambers of power, another reality stands plainly in view. In offices across City Hall, how many Black citizens are seen in positions of authority? How many have been interviewed, hired, and trusted with leadership rather than with the broom, the curtain, or the phone?

    Look carefully and you will see the pattern.

    The only Black face in one office stands behind a curtain. Others are tasked with cleaning the halls. One answers the phone at the desk. And the question rises again—how many have been offered the chance to do more?

    Racism, though some would prefer to declare it dead, still lingers quietly in the air of 71055. It lingers in hiring decisions, in silence from leadership, and in the weary acceptance of those who have grown accustomed to injustice.

    Even in matters of faith, contradictions appear. On Martin Luther King Jr. Day, certain leaders are welcomed into our pulpits with ceremony and applause. Yet one must ask: are we welcomed into theirs with the same honor? A seat among the congregation might have sufficed, yet the pulpit itself is offered freely—while the dignity of our own community is so often dismissed.

    At some point a people must decide whether they will continue smiling politely in the face of disregard, or whether they will stand upright in the dignity that is their birthright.

    For everything is not well simply because we pretend that it is.

    Justice does not arrive through silence. Peace is not maintained by pretending wrongdoing does not exist. True peace is built through truth, knowledge, courage, and the willingness of citizens to hold their leaders accountable.

    This is not a call for chaos.

    It is a call for conscience.

    And the question remains before the people of this town:

    When will we stand not only for what is comfortable—but for what is right?

  • Questions.

    Thank you for all of your comments if you want to talk about or have any questions or concerns email me at-
     thevoiceofidabwells@gmail.com