The Voice of Ida B Wells

You would have to be willfully blind to believe that the recent changes made in this town were for the betterment of its people. What we are witnessing is not leadership—it is domination disguised as development. Power has been traded for control, and the people are paying the price.

Since when did gathering on your own family land become a crime? Must the descendants of those who built this soil now ask permission to stand upon it? These new restrictions are not about order—they are about ownership, about reminding citizens who holds the power to say yes or no to their very existence.

Miller Park once stood as a symbol of unity, a place where families could gather freely and communities could breathe. The previous administration planted seeds of progress there, but now, even that progress comes at a cost. The people may be welcome to gather, but only under watchful eyes and tightened rules.

We were told that changing utility providers would bring relief—a victory for the citizens. Yet the bills have not fallen, and the burden remains. The kiosks that fail to process payments, the removal of the drive-thru that once served working families—these are not innovations, they are inconveniences wrapped in deceit.

And where is accountability? City credit cards seem to float without restraint, their use unchecked and unexplained. We hear whispers of one being used across state lines—in Texas—to repair a private vehicle belonging to someone preparing to sue the city, followed by a check to conceal the act. Such conduct is not mere carelessness. It is corruption.

The pattern is as plain as daylight: decisions made in silence, funds moved in shadows, and every Black face quietly erased from the picture of public service. The so-called “friendliest city in the South” wears a smile that does not reach its eyes. Its friendliness is reserved for a chosen few, while the rest are met with closed doors and empty promises.

Let us not be deceived. This is not progress—it is the quiet dismantling of community power. History will not absolve those who participated, nor those who stood idly by while the people’s voice was stripped away. For silence, too, is a form of consent.