Commentary |
A moment of community, and a final glimpse of a familiar figure

Some images take on new resonance with time, and this quiet community gathering—people standing together under the Rainbow PUSH Coalition banner, calling for justice for Jelani Day—now carries a deeper emotional weight in light of Reverend Jesse Jackson’s passing. What was once a simple documentary moment has become a subtle reflection on aging, legacy, and the realities of public life.

In the photograph, Reverend Jackson is not the polished, commanding figure many remember from his earlier decades. For much of his public career, he was known for an immaculate presence—tailored suits, crisp lines, a look that matched the precision of his oratory. Here, though, he appears more vulnerable. His hair is neatly combed, but his clothing sits differently than it once did, looser in some places, tighter in others, as if the careful attention that once shaped his public image had softened over time. It’s not disheveled, not careless—just unmistakably human.

What stands out is not decline, but honesty. There is no attempt to hide the effects of age or illness, no effort to recreate the immaculate presentation of his younger years. Instead, he is simply present, surrounded by community members who seem focused less on how he looks and more on the fact that he showed up at all. In that sense, the image becomes a quiet testament to a lifetime of engagement: even as the polish faded, the commitment remained.

His presence at this gathering wasn’t about leading a march or delivering a headline-making speech. It was about solidarity—about lending his name, his history, and his physical presence to a cause that mattered to others. And perhaps that is why this moment resonates now. It shows a man who continued to participate even when the spotlight no longer demanded perfection, even when the expectations of presentation had eased.

As people reflect on his legacy, this photograph offers a gentle reminder that public figures age just like everyone else. Their final years are often less curated, less controlled, and more revealing. Here, Reverend Jackson appears not as an icon, but as an elder—still engaged, still present, still willing to stand with a community seeking justice.

It is a candid, unvarnished glimpse of a man near the end of a long public journey. And in its simplicity, it may be one of the most honest.

Viewpoint |
Trump's racism can no longer be tolerated

When confronted with criticism, Trump does not respond with restraint or humility. He responds with provocation, grievance, and racial dehumanization. His latest act crossed an unforgivable line.

by Van Abbott

On the night of February 5, 2026, President Donald Trump used his social media platform to circulate a grotesque video that ended by depicting former President Barack Obama and former First Lady Michelle Obama as primates. The image invoked one of the oldest and most dehumanizing racist tropes in American history. Its meaning was unmistakable. Coming from a sitting president, it represented a moral breach that demanded immediate repudiation.

Instead, when questioned the following morning, Trump said he had reviewed the post but not in its entirety and deemed it acceptable. If true, that explanation suggests negligence unworthy of the office. If untrue, it suggests something worse. The public is deserving to know who prepared the post, and why was it allowed to remain online for twelve hours? Why did no senior aide accept responsibility for a mistake that, in any functioning administration, would end a career? The absence of accountability speaks for itself.

Many Republicans will insist they are not racist, and many sincerely believe it.

Only after sustained public backlash was the post removed. Trump then reversed course, he strongly condemned the image, claimed once again he had not seen the offensive ending, blamed his staff, and still offered no apology. Delay, deflection, and evasion remain his standard responses to moral failure.

This episode fits a long-established pattern. When confronted with criticism, Trump does not respond with restraint or humility. He responds with provocation, grievance, and racial dehumanization.

Many Republicans will insist they are not racist, and many sincerely believe it. Yet millions continue to support the most racially divisive president in modern American history. They excuse the language, minimize the imagery, and rationalize the behavior as strategy or humor. Racism does not require confession. It survives through tolerance, advances through silence, and hardens through justification.

For more than six decades, the United States has struggled toward a broader understanding of equality. Progress has been uneven but real. Through law, protest, and sacrifice, Americans learned that citizenship is not defined by skin color, humanity is not assigned by race, and dignity is not granted by power. That understanding was meant to prevent leaders from reviving the language of dehumanization drawn from the nation’s darkest chapters.

Trump’s record on race long predates his presidency. His father was accused by the federal government of discriminatory housing practices, and Trump carried that legacy forward. In 1989, he purchased full-page newspaper advertisements calling for the death penalty for the Central Park Five, five Black and Latino teenagers later proven innocent. Even after their exoneration, he refused to acknowledge the injustice. He later promoted the false claim that the nation’s first Black president was not a legitimate American, described immigrants from nonwhite countries in degrading terms, amplified white nationalist voices, and told elected officials of color to go back where they came from. These were not isolated incidents but a consistent narrative of exclusion and resentment.

Anti-Black racism carried a uniquely dehumanizing weight rooted in American history.

That narrative intensified during his first term and beyond. Racism became a political instrument, used to energize supporters and define enemies. Trump did not merely tolerate racist language. He normalized it and placed it at the center of his political identity.

His staffing decisions reinforced that message. Senior positions were filled for loyalty rather than competence. Officials of color who asserted independence were sidelined or dismissed. Expertise was treated as disloyalty, integrity as opposition, and public service as expendable.

Immigrants and refugees were targeted with particular cruelty, and enforcement favored spectacle over justice. Yet anti-Black racism carried a uniquely dehumanizing weight rooted in American history. The primate image aimed at the Obamas drew directly from that lineage. It was not careless. It was calculated.

At moments of national testing, leaders are judged less by what they provoke than by what they refuse to do. Trump refuses restraint, decency, and accountability. He chooses cruelty over character and division over duty.

This should be the breaking point for Republicans and for Christians who have persuaded themselves that policy outcomes excuse conduct. Faith that tolerates dehumanization is faith emptied of meaning. Patriotism that excuses racism is patriotism stripped of honor. Silence in the face of bigotry is not neutrality. It is permission.

The choice before voters is neither partisan nor abstract. You do not have to abandon conservatism to reject racism. You do not have to embrace every Democratic position to defend democracy. In 2026 and again in 2028, Americans must choose decency over degradation, conscience over comfort, and the rule of law over cult loyalty. History will record who answered that call and who looked away.

About the author ~

Van Abbott is a long time resident of Alaska and California. He has held financial management positions in government and private organizations in California, Kansas, and Alaska. He is retired and writes Op-Eds as a hobby. He served in the Peace Corps in the late sixties. You can find more of his commentaries and comments on life in America on Substack.

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'American' most often associated with white English speaker

Many Americans unconsciously link being "American" with whiteness and English fluency, a bias that starts in early childhood, research shows.

by Judith Ruiz-Branch
Illinois News Connection

CHICAGO - With Donald Trump in the White House, Illinois and the nation face new challenges about who "belongs" in the United States.

Nationality has become a flashpoint, and studies show folks tend to have an implicit bias about who fits the bill for being "American." Experts say many associate the term "American" with white people who speak English - even if they initially say otherwise.

University of Chicago psychology professor Katherine Kinzler said people don't always consciously exclude individuals from being American, and can be vocal about how ridiculous the notion of being white to be American sounds.

"And yet," she said, "those same people, when given a more subtle task - of 'what they think of when they think of what it means to be American' - they might just be a little bit faster to identify somebody who's white and who speaks English as being American, versus somebody else."

Formed biases are more often a result of social and cultural attitudes rather than political messages.

She said humans categorize others using cognitive shortcuts, which can cause prejudice and stereotypes, and lead to real-world consequences such as determining hiring decisions and ultimately making individuals feel like they don't belong.

Studying the development of social attitudes in kids, Kinzler said she found young children initially perceive English speakers as "more American." As they grow older, they then associate both English speakers and white faces with American identity. Kinzler said children often pick up on the statistical realities of their world, which can also color their beliefs.

"So they might be noticing, 'Who are the people I come in contact with? Who are the people that my parent talks to, who come over for dinner? Who are the people in my school? What access to resources do they have?' And so forth," she said. "And so, kids are paying attention to the social realities of their world and kind of adding it up."

While it's impossible to control everything children are exposed to, Kinzler suggested parents try to broaden their early experiences by exposing them to diverse ideas, languages, people and places, especially from a young age. She said formed biases are more often a result of social and cultural attitudes rather than political messages.

TELL THE SENTINEL WHAT YOU THINK:

Can someone be "American" if they speak English, but are not 'white'? Send us a letter and tell us what you think.

.::. Here is how and where to sent it

Commentary |
Black History is every day, with or without the White House

Photo: Library of Congress/Unsplash

From local school boards to the White House, the right is doubling down on its efforts to erase Black history. They’ll fail.

by Tracey L. Rogers

OtherWords

It’s a trend that’s been building for a few years now.

Books by predominantly Black authors are being banned around the country. School curricula have been amended to skip the history lesson on slavery and racism. Critical Race Theory (CRT) — and anything that vaguely looks like it — is under attack. And the concept of “wokeness” has been misconstrued and weaponized.

During a speech at Howard University in 1965, President Johnson said that Black Americans were “still buried under a blanket of history and circumstance.”

Fast-forward to February 2025 and there’s been a doubling down on these attempts to erase Black history. President Trump’s anti-DEI, anti-“woke” rhetoric has led major companies and even many federal agencies to avoid observing Black History Month.

As I consider the president’s campaign promise to “make America great again,” I wonder if he means to make America “white” again.

From failing to condemn white supremacists for their violent march in Charlottesville, Virginia during his first term to blaming “diversity hires” for January’s plane crash in Washington, D.C. this year, Trump and his allies seem to have a difficult time acknowledging the diversity that actually makes this country great.

This has been especially true for Black people feeling the brunt of his Executive Orders. These haven’t just eliminated recent diversity and inclusion initiatives — one even rescinded an Executive Order signed by President Lyndon B. Johnson to end discriminatory practices mostly aimed at Black Americans.

During a speech at Howard University in 1965, President Johnson said that Black Americans were “still buried under a blanket of history and circumstance.” Following widespread protests, it was Johnson who signed the landmark Civil Rights Act and Voting Rights Act into law. Now both historic milestones are under threat by the attempts of Trump and many others to erode the social and economic gains made by Black Americans.

It’s as if we are reliving a time akin to the nadir of race relations in America — the period after Reconstruction, when white supremacists regained power and tried to reverse the progress Black Americans made after the emancipation of enslaved people.

There is nothing comfortable about the history of Black Americans — it’s a history that shatters the myth of American exceptionalism.

Today, from the U.S. Air Force removing coursework on the Tuskegee Airmen to orders by many federal agencies, including the military, canceling Black History Month celebrations, these extreme rollbacks will set a new precedent impacting all minority groups.

I can’t help but to return to sentiments shared by The 1619 Project founder Nikole Hannah-Jones: “The same instinct that led powerful people to prohibit Black people from being able to read,” she wrote, is also “leading powerful people to try to stop our children from learning histories that would lead them to question the unequal society that we have as well.”

There is nothing comfortable about the history of Black Americans — it’s a history that shatters the myth of American exceptionalism. Nevertheless, Black history is American history. Instead of banning it, we must teach it.

It would be impossible to erase the legacy of Black people in this country. Ours is a legacy that endures — one that will continue to endure no matter who’s in the White House.

One thing Black people are going to do is to be Black — and proud. We don’t need a month to know that we stand on the shoulders of giants.

Having overcome enslavement, Jim Crow, and more, our striving to thrive in a country with so-called leaders who would prefer to keep us living on the margins only exemplifies the America we aspire to. And it’s a fight that’s made this country better for struggling people of all races.

Like it or not, Black history is every day.

Tracey L. Rogers is an entrepreneur and Diversity, Equity, and Inclusion consultant in Philadelphia. This op-ed was distributed by OtherWords.org.

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Commentary |
Teaching about race is good, actually; states need to quit banning it

by Ian Wright
OtherWords.org

In this back to school season, millions of American students are returning to classrooms where the wrong course, lesson, or textbook can lead to deep trouble. Why? Because for the last several years, conservative activists and lawmakers have been waging a crusade against “critical race theory,” or CRT.

Critical race theory is an academic concept acknowledging that racism isn’t simply the result of individual prejudice but is also embedded in our institutions through laws, regulations, and rules.

As school districts have emphasized, it’s a higher education concept rarely taught in K-12 schools. But cynical activists have used CRT as a catch-all term to target a broad range of diversity, equity, and inclusion initiatives — and seemingly any discussion about race and racism in the classroom.

Since January 2021, 44 states have “introduced bills or taken other steps that would restrict teaching critical race theory or limit how teachers can discuss racism and sexism,” according to Education Weekly. And as of this writing, UCLA has identified 807 anti-CRT “bills, resolutions, executive orders, opinion letters, statements, and other measures” since September 2020.

Critics claim — falsely — that CRT teaches that all white people are oppressors, while Black people are simply oppressed victims. Many opponents claim it teaches white students to “hate their own race,” or to feel guilty about events that happened before they were born.

In reality, CRT gives students of every race the tools to understand how our institutions treat people of different races unequally — and how we can make those systems fairer. That’s learning students of every race would be better off with.

But instead, this barrage of draconian legislation is having a chilling effect on speech in the classroom.

In 2022, Florida passed the “Stop W.O.K.E. Act,” which prohibits teaching that could lead to a student feeling “discomfort” because of their race, sex, or nationality. But the law’s vague language makes it difficult for educators to determine what they can or cannot teach, ultimately restricting classroom instruction. In my home state of Texas, SB3 similarly restricts these classroom discussions.

Running afoul of these laws can get teachers and school administrators in trouble. As a result of this hostile environment, the RAND Corporation found that two-thirds of K-12 school teachers have decided “to limit instruction about political and social issues in the classroom.”

Notably, this self-censorship extends beyond states with such policies: 55 percent of teachers without state or local restrictions on CRT have still decided to limit classroom discussions of race and history.

As a student, I find this distressing.

My high school history classes gave me a much richer understanding of race in our history, especially the discussions we had at the height of the Black Lives Matter protests. And in college, I’ve gotten to learn about racial inequalities in everything from housing and real estate to health care, politics, education, and immigration policy.

As a person of color, I can’t imagine where I’d be without this understanding. Neither white students nor students of color will benefit from laws designed to censor their understanding of history, critical thinking, and open dialogue in the classroom.

The fight against CRT is a fight against the principles of education that encourage us to question, learn, and grow. Rather than shielding students from uncomfortable truths, which they can certainly handle, we should seek to equip them with the knowledge to navigate the world, think critically about our history and institutions, and push for a more inclusive country.

Ian Wright is a Henry A. Wallace Fellow at the Institute for Policy Studies and a student at Rice University from Dallas, Texas. This op-ed was distributed by OtherWords.org.