As another weekend passes in Mississippi, the echoes of gunfire haunt our Black communities—especially at homecomings, football games, and cherished gatherings meant for celebration, unity, and pride. Instead of joy, we find grief: mothers screaming, children injured, families shattered by bullets that did not come from outsiders, but from our own neighbors.
Let’s face it: the deaths and gunshot victims of nine people across Leland, Heidelberg, Alcorn State, Jackson State, and Anguilla—most of them young, gifted, and Black—highlight a crisis. Churches will comfort the mourning. Reporters will recount the heartbreak. But no headline or preacher’s sermon can ignore this chilling truth: When will Black lives matter to Blacks?
A generation raised with the echoes of Black Lives Matter protests now finds those words tested—not by police, but by our own hands. Have we become used to seeing senseless violence at our most beloved events? Are we numb to reckless killing that leaves us unsafe and vulnerable, afraid to gather, worship, or cheer for the home team?
But let’s be honest: gun violence in the African American community goes deeper than homecomings—it has become an endemic, almost normalized reality in too many neighborhoods and homes. This violence is not just a product of culture; it’s rooted in systemic poverty, under-resourced schools, trauma, and policies that have worked against us for generations. Last year in Holmes County, after the homecoming game at a trail ride, another shooting shattered lives and proved yet again that what happened this weekend is not a one-time tragedy. This is a pattern that repeats, leaving communities in the Delta and across Mississippi trapped in cycles of fear and mourning.
We must face the hard truth: this crisis didn’t start in our communities, but history and neglect have made it a tragic fixture. The question is not just, “Why aren’t Black lives mattering to police?” but, “Why aren’t Black lives mattering to us?” when we see the same cycles of pain playing out repeatedly.
We can no longer blame outsiders for our pain when most of our recent wounds are self-inflicted. We must name those responsible—the shooters, the silent bystanders, and even ourselves for letting violence become normalized.
Logical and lasting change will require churches stepping forward, not just in comfort, but in advocacy—teaching peace, intervening before gunplay replaces dialogue. Parents must reclaim responsibility for what happens when their young people leave home. Community leaders need to build programs that offer opportunity, healing, and mentorship, not just reactions to tragedy.
As a pastor and reporter, my heart aches for every mother who lost a child, as well as those who will lose a family member to the penal system because of the crimes they committed, and every child whose innocence was stolen on what should have been a special night. It is time for our culture to confront this crisis without excuses, without silence, and without sugarcoating. We need investment in mental health, jobs, and youth engagement just as urgently as we need justice and accountability.
If Black lives truly matter, it must begin where the hurt is deepest: in our own homes, schools, and churches. Justice, accountability, and love for Black lives must begin with Black people themselves. Naming our problem is not defeat—it’s the first move toward healing. Let this weekend’s bloodshed be the turning point. Let us unite not just against outside prejudice, but against the violence within our own gates. The change must start with us, right now.
