“Why did they send you?” That was the awkward beginning of a mentorship and friendship between the Rev. Jesse Jackson and me.
We met in the wake of the release of the video showing the police murder of Laquan McDonald. In my role then as the president of the Chicago Police Board, I was asked by senior leaders in the mayor’s office to go and meet with the Rev. Jackson to understand what his call to action would be for residents in the city. I sat in his office at the Rainbow PUSH headquarters surrounded by memorabilia from a life’s journey that anyone would marvel at. From my earliest days, I had many memories of the Rev. Jackson as a civil rights icon, a brilliant orator and a fashionista gleaned from pictures of him in Jet and Ebony magazines. And there I was, sitting across the desk from the man.
I was equal parts nervous and intimidated, but also in awe of sitting across from someone I’d only seen in photos and video clips on TV. That day, he was wary of my intentions but generous and welcoming to me. He also challenged me to think bigger about my place in the civic landscape. And I did.
I was a senior in college when the Rev. Jackson first ran for president, and I was amazed at the groundswell of enthusiasm for him, his campaign and his message. He undeniably brought tens of thousands of new voters into a political process that seemed distant and hostile to many for decades.
From that first moment in November 2015, I am blessed to say, we had so many more meetings in that office, by phone, at his home or wherever the Rev. Jackson wanted to meet, in which he shared strategy and his historical memory and introduced me to a part of his world and journey that I would never have had access to. The Rev. Jackson, like me, was also a lover of sports and particularly basketball, so we deepened our bond talking about the state of the NBA and college hoops. We also connected over our shared love of music and the arts.
The Rev. Jackson was our public conscience, not allowing anyone, particularly not the high and the mighty, to look away from the suffering of masses of people here and abroad who desperately needed the advocate he became. He was a consistent presence in my ear when I became mayor and helped me remain focused on making sure our initiatives and investments reflected the lived experience of real people in Chicago. He pushed me and all leaders on racial equity, police accountability, economic justice, voting rights and access, and more.
The Rev. Jackson was not a perfect man, but he was one who pushed us as a country to be that more perfect union our forefathers envisioned over 250 years ago. He made us hold ourselves accountable to the fundamental value of decency. I feel blessed to have been in his presence.
His passing is sad, particularly for his wife and children who nurtured him every step of the way as the good Lord was calling him home. It is also a day to celebrate this great man, who prepared us to take up the baton he has now passed to us.
May he rest in peace and may his memory be a balm to all who grieve his passing.
Lori Lightfoot is a former mayor of Chicago and also served as president of the Chicago Police Board.
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