The death of Jesse Jackson on Tuesday, 17th February 2026, marks the end of a thunderous chapter in the moral and political history of the United States. The Rev. Jesse L. Jackson – Baptist minister, civil rights strategist, two-time presidential candidate and relentless advocate for the poor – was 84. His booming oratory and populist message carried the Civil Rights Movement through the fragile decades that followed the assassination of his mentor, Martin Luther King Jr.
He once began a poem with words that became a creed for the forgotten:
“I am somebody.
I may be poor,
but I am somebody.
I may be on welfare,
but I am somebody.”
Those lines were more than rhetoric. They were resurrected. They restored dignity to people ground down by racism, poverty and systemic exclusion. They were Jackson’s answer to a society that had told millions they were invisible.
Born in Greenville, South Carolina, in 1941, Jackson grew up in the crucible of segregation. The America of his youth was sharply divided by race and opportunity. Yet from early on, he displayed the twin gifts that would define his life: spiritual conviction and political instinct. After moving to Chicago as a young organiser, he became deeply involved in the civil rights struggle, eventually catching King’s attention.
In April 1968, Jackson was summoned to meet King at the Lorraine Motel in Memphis, Tennessee. The sanitation workers’ strike had drawn King back into direct action, and Jackson was among the young leaders being groomed for greater responsibility. Shortly afterwards, King was assassinated on that motel balcony – a shot that shattered not only a life but a movement’s sense of direction.
In the aftermath, Jackson publicly positioned himself as one of King’s heirs. While others debated ideology, Jackson stepped into the streets. He understood that movements cannot afford paralysis. Through grief and turbulence, he chose continuity over retreat.
He founded Operation PUSH (People United to Save Humanity), a vehicle for economic empowerment, voter registration and corporate accountability. Later, he broadened that vision into the Rainbow PUSH Coalition, expanding the civil rights agenda beyond racial justice to include workers’ rights, education reform, healthcare access, and international human rights.
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Jackson’s genius lay in reframing the struggle. He insisted that civil rights were inseparable from economic rights. He spoke not only for Black America but for the poor of all colours — for Appalachian miners, Latino farmworkers, and struggling families in America’s inner cities. His concept of the “Rainbow Coalition” called for unity across racial, religious, and class lines. It was a radical idea in a polarised nation: that the marginalised could find strength in solidarity.
In the 1980s, Jackson did what many thought impossible. He ran for president — not once, but twice. His campaigns in 1984 and 1988 under the Democratic Party banner were watershed moments in American politics. They shattered assumptions about who could compete on the national stage. In 1988, he won millions of votes and several state primaries, proving that the descendants of enslaved people could contend for the highest office in the land.
He did not win the presidency, but he transformed the electorate. He energised young voters, expanded minority participation, and forced mainstream politics to confront issues of poverty and inequality more directly. His campaigns laid the groundwork that future leaders would build upon.
Jackson’s influence extended beyond the ballot box. He negotiated with major corporations to diversify hiring and board representation long before diversity became fashionable. He travelled internationally to advocate for peace and justice, engaging in humanitarian diplomacy to secure the release of hostages and to press for sanctions against apartheid South Africa. He believed that moral authority did not stop at national borders.
His style was unmistakable. His cadence rolled like a sermon and struck like a hammer. He could electrify a crowd with repetition and rhythm, weaving scripture, statistics, and street wisdom into a single soaring appeal. When he declared, “Keep hope alive,” it was not a slogan but a survival strategy.
Of course, Jackson’s life was not free of controversy. His fiery rhetoric sometimes drew criticism. His assertive claim to King’s mantle was debated. But even critics acknowledged his stamina and courage. For decades, he remained a visible presence wherever injustice flared — from voting rights battles to labour disputes.
In later years, Jackson battled Parkinson’s disease, diagnosed with publicly in 2017. The illness slowed his once-energetic stride and softened his resonant voice, yet it did not extinguish his conviction. Even as his body weakened, the message endured: dignity is nonnegotiable.
To understand Jackson is to understand a bridge between eras. He stood at the hinge of history — between the legislative triumphs of the 1960s and the harsher economic realities of the late twentieth century. He kept alive the moral vocabulary of justice at times when politics drifted toward cynicism and transactional compromise.
His famous poem, “I Am Somebody,” remains perhaps his purest legacy. In classrooms, churches, and community halls, children recited it as afirmation. It turned self-worth into collective power. It insisted that no child’s poverty erased their potential. No discrimination erased their humanity.
As the world reflects on his passing, it is worth remembering that Jackson never claimed perfection. He claimed persistence. He believed the arc of the moral universe bends toward justice — but only if hands are willing to pull it.
In death, as in life, he challenges us. Are we willing to stand for the least among us? Are we willing to widen the circle of belonging? Are we willing to say — not as poetry but as policy – that every human being counts?
The Rev. Jesse L. Jackson’s voice may have fallen silent on this February day in 2026, but the echo remains. In every movement for voting rights, in every call for economic fairness, in every whispered affirmation of self-worth, his spirit lingers.
Rev. Jesse Jackson, you were not just a somebody, but you were everything. May your soul rest in eternal peace.
“I am somebody,” he declared.
And through him, millions believed it.
Ashford teaches English and Literature in Gatundu North Sub-county and serves as Dean of Studies.
By Ashford Kimani
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