ATLANTA — Veteran comedian, actor, and television personality Rodney Perry is joining Black Press USA’s morning show, hosted by Niele Anderson, as a weekly contributor.

Beginning this season, Perry will appear every Wednesday, delivering his signature blend of comedy, cultural commentary, and honest conversation. Drawing from more than 30 years in entertainment, Perry will bring a humorous and thought-provoking perspective to current events, relationships, entertainment, and the issues affecting the Black community.

“I’m excited to join Niele Anderson and the Black Press USA family,” said Perry. “Comedy has always been my way of helping people talk about real life. Every Wednesday, we’re going to laugh, tell the truth, and have some fun with what’s happening in the world.”

A former co-host of BET’s The Mo’Nique Show, Perry has built an accomplished career as a stand-up comedian, actor, director, and producer. His energetic storytelling and authentic point of view have made him a respected and recognizable voice in comedy and entertainment.

Viewers can catch Rodney Perry every Wednesday on Black Press USA’s morning show with host Niele Anderson.

Rodney Perry is a veteran comedian, actor, director, and television personality with more than three decades in the entertainment industry. Known for his quick wit, dynamic storytelling, and relatable observations, Perry has appeared in numerous television and film productions and performed on stages around the world.

Stephen A. Smith rarely struggles for words. One of the most recognizable voices in sports media, he has built a career on passionate opinions and unfiltered commentary. But when ESPN parted ways with Ryan Clark, Smith’s reaction was strikingly simple.

“It hurts. It really does,” Smith said.

Smith called Clark “arguably the best NFL analyst in America“ and said he opposed ESPN’s decision. At the same time, he acknowledged that layoffs have become an unavoidable reality across the television industry.

“The bosses know I’m not happy about this decision,” Smith said. “But it’s also important that myself and anybody else in the world of business be grown-ups and understand that these are the kind of things that happen when layoffs happen.”

Clark’s departure followed the exits of several nationally recognized Black media personalities, including Joy Reid at MSNBC and Don Lemon at CNN. It also came after Clark publicly reflected on his years at ESPN, saying there were times he felt he “couldn’t be too Black.” While each departure occurred under different circumstances, together they have renewed questions about the future of Black representation in mainstream media and whether the industry’s changing landscape is reducing the number of Black voices on the nation’s most influential platforms.

Networks have cited restructuring, layoffs or, in some cases, declined to publicly explain personnel decisions. Some journalists have pointed to workplace culture, while others argue the changes reflect broader economic forces reshaping the media business.

Dr. Al Reynolds, a communications professor who studies both media and business, said the conversation cannot begin with race alone. Before examining who is leaving mainstream media, he said, it is necessary to understand the economic forces transforming the industry itself.

“From the business side, there are three things they can’t argue,” Reynolds said. “One is the economic contraction of traditional television. People aren’t going to their traditional sources to be entertained anymore.”

Audiences have increasingly shifted away from traditional broadcast and cable television to streaming and digital platforms such as Netflix, Paramount+, BET+, YouTube and TikTok, Reynolds said. As viewers have migrated, advertisers have followed, reducing the revenue that once supported large television news operations.

“Because of the economic contraction, you have corporate consolidation and cost-cutting,” Reynolds said. “If your viewers aren’t there, your advertisers aren’t there. If your advertisers aren’t there, then you can’t pay your talent to be on those platforms anymore.”

Those financial realities help explain why media companies are making difficult personnel decisions, Reynolds said. But they do not fully explain why those departures matter.

“It doesn’t matter whether they fired [Clark] or whether they laid him off,” Reynolds said. “The effects of it are the same.”

As prominent Black personalities disappear from major platforms, Reynolds said the consequences extend far beyond the careers of individual journalists.

“When there are fewer prominent Black personalities with authority, as well as the resources, to be on these large platforms that have natural distribution to shape the mainstream conversation, then you have less of a voice in those spaces,” he said.

Award-winning entertainment journalist Keith L. Underwood agreed that economics is reshaping the media industry. But he said an equally important transformation is taking place among audiences themselves. Rather than relying on a handful of nationally recognized journalists and civil rights leaders, Black Americans now consume information across countless digital platforms, creating a media landscape that is more fragmented—and, in many ways, more difficult for any single voice to influence.

“I think the landscape is changing,” Underwood said. “People have so many different ways of getting their news, whether it be television, radio, social media, or word of mouth.”

“It’s not like it used to be when you had civil rights leaders who were the generalized voice of the people,” he said. “That’s gone.”

Underwood said that fragmentation has increasingly given way to celebrity-driven news and viral culture.

“It’s become more focused on the gossip,” Underwood said. “Celebrity scandal has become our news because those same voices are not there.”

At the same time, Underwood said major media organizations continue to influence which stories and perspectives reach the broadest audiences.

“If you’re dealing with mainstream outlets, then you also have to take into consideration what they’re allowing you to say,” he said, pointing to former MSNBC host Tiffany Cross as an example of someone who believed she would have greater editorial latitude than she ultimately experienced.

When asked specifically about Clark’s remarks that he often felt he “couldn’t be too Black” while working at ESPN, Underwood declined to speculate about Clark’s personal experience.

“I can’t speak to his specific situation because that’s his truth,” Underwood said.

Still, Underwood said professionalism and authenticity are not mutually exclusive. He pointed to former NFL star and television host Michael Strahan as someone who has successfully navigated mainstream media without losing his identity.

“I don’t think Michael Strahan has become less Black,” Underwood said. “He’s still Michael Strahan. He’s just learned how to communicate in different spaces.”

Underwood said the larger challenge is preserving authenticity while working within institutions that often shape how stories are told and who gets to tell them.

The picture, however, is more nuanced than a simple decline in Black representation. Fox News continues to feature prominent Black anchors, including Harris Faulkner and Lawrence Jones, both of whom have built long careers on one of cable television’s highest-rated news networks. Their continued prominence suggests the conversation is not simply about whether Black journalists remain on television, but how newsroom decisions, audience demand and editorial culture shape which voices endure and influence the national conversation.

For Underwood, however, the future of Black journalism may depend less on the decisions made inside corporate boardrooms than on the willingness of Black journalists and entrepreneurs to build platforms of their own.

“I think that too often Black folks are reactionary as opposed to being proactive,” Underwood said, arguing that the community should invest more aggressively in creating and supporting independent Black-owned media rather than waiting for opportunities from legacy institutions.

He pointed to YouTube, podcasts, streaming services and emerging artificial intelligence tools as technologies making it easier than ever for journalists to reach audiences without relying on traditional gatekeepers.

“If you create your own platform and you’re speaking truth to the news, you can be your authentic self,” Underwood said.

Looking ahead, Underwood believes the next generation of influential Black journalists will be defined not only by where they work, but by the platforms they own.

“Black folks need to start embracing these tools that are available to us in order to have a voice, in order to share our creativity and in order to benefit and enrich our communities,” he said.

As legacy media continues to evolve, the debate sparked by Ryan Clark’s departure suggests the future of Black journalism may depend not only on who is hired by major networks but also on who builds the next generation of platforms.

By Danielle Bess
Danielle Bess is a trial attorney based in the Clayton Judicial Circuit of Georgia.

Three days after Clayton County voters removed Judge Aaron Mason from the Superior Court bench in a nine-point loss, he filed a lawsuit asking a court to disqualify the winner, Judge-elect Deitra Burney-Butler, and to throw out the more than 25,000 votes cast for her and declare him the winner instead.

He filed it in the Superior Court of Clayton County, where Judge Mason presides.

Over the past ten weeks, no news outlet has reported that the case exists.

That points to a second problem, one that affects anyone who uses Georgia courts. The Petition, the only document that explains what the case is about, has never been publicly viewable. It appears on re: SearchGA, Georgia’s statewide court-records portal, but that listing shows only the lawyers’ entries of appearance, even though later filings in the same case were promptly posted.

To get a copy, I went to the Clayton County Superior Court Clerk’s office in person. The clerk could not find the Petition; a search for the paper file came up empty. Only after a supervisor stepped in did a clerk locate the case in an internal system and print a copy, minus the exhibits it references. No one explained to me why I couldn’t have it or why it wasn’t online.

“Weird” is how Bryan Sells, an Atlanta election law attorney who has practiced in this field for 28 years and litigated candidate-eligibility cases, described the Petition’s absence from the public docket.

A judge’s lawsuit, filed from a judge’s chambers
The Petition to Contest Election was filed pro se by Judge Mason on May 22, 2026. It lists his address as 9151 Tara Boulevard, the Clayton County Judicial Complex, where he keeps his chambers. The email address on the filing is his official judicial email. And the sworn verification at the back was notarized by an employee of the Clayton County court administration office. Records produced by the Secretary of State show the same court administration employee also notarized Judge Mason’s own qualifying paperwork when he entered the race back in March.

Mason has been a judge for 16 years. He was appointed to the State Court of Clayton County in 2010 by Governor Sonny Perdue, a milestone his campaign website says made him “the first African American to serve on that bench.” In December 2016, Governor Nathan Deal elevated him to the Superior Court, where he ran unopposed in 2018 and 2022. May 19, 2026, was the first time Clayton County voters were ever offered a choice about Judge Aaron Mason.

They chose someone else.

Deitra Burney-Butler spent 14 years on the Clayton County juvenile court bench and, before that, prosecuted cases in the Clayton County District Attorney’s and Solicitor’s offices. In 2023, Judge Robert Mack rescinded her reappointment, ending her tenure. Reporting at the time said the rescission cited concerns about her ability to serve. Burney-Butler has received no public discipline by the State Bar or the Judicial Qualifications Commission. Eight months after her removal, she challenged Judge Mack at the polls and lost. She came back in 2026, ran against Judge Mason, and won 25,414 votes to his 20,948.

Judge Robert Mack, who now serves as Chief Judge, will be the only man on the Clayton County Superior Court bench if the election results stand.

The theory: Her State Bar Status
The Petition alleges that Burney-Butler was never qualified to run at all. Georgia law, at O.C.G.A. § 15-6-4(a), requires that a Superior Court judge “is a member in good standing with the State Bar of Georgia.” According to the Petition, at the time of her candidacy, the State Bar directory listed Burney-Butler as an “Inactive Member in Good Standing,” a status that does not permit the practice of law. From there, the Petition reasons: she could not practice, so she was ineligible; her candidacy affidavit was false; the votes cast for her were void; and because Mason was the only other candidate on the ballot, he received the only legal votes and should be declared the winner.

For that last step, Mason cites Haynes v. Wells, a 2000 Georgia Supreme Court case that itself originated in Clayton County, holding that votes cast for an ineligible candidate are “void and ineffective.”

“Usually, people challenge during the qualification period,” Sells told me. Georgia law gives any constituent a window of roughly 10 days after qualifying to challenge a candidate’s eligibility. Waiting until after the election, he said, is unusual but not unheard of.

The bigger problem, in Sells’s view, is the theory itself. “I don’t see any requirement in the qualification statute that someone be an active member,” he said. The statute requires good standing, and as Sells put it, “there is no dispute that she is in good standing.” The difference between active and inactive status, Sells explained, largely comes down to dues and continuing education: inactive members pay less, skip the CLE requirements, and cannot practice law. Returning to active status requires little more than filing a form with the State Bar and paying fees.

The State Bar’s own rules back that up. The Bar officially publishes counts of “inactive members in good standing” as a category, and Bar Rule 1-204 defines good standing in terms of being current on fees and free of suspension or disbarment, not by whether a member is actively practicing.

A check of the Georgia State Bar directory on August 5, 2026, shows Deitra Burney-Butler as an Active Member in Good Standing.

What the affidavit actually says

I have now read the affidavit that Judge Mason’s lawsuit condemns as false. The Secretary of State produced it in response to my open records request, and it never mentions the State Bar at all. The sworn Notice of Candidacy and Affidavit Burney-Butler signed on March 5, 2026, is a standard state form. It attests to her name, residence, citizenship, the absence of disqualifying convictions and tax defaults, and to one general statement: “I am eligible to hold such office.” There is no line about bar membership, active status, or good standing. Her occupation is disclosed in her handwriting: “Hearing Officer.”

Whether a general oath of eligibility can be “false” when the State Bar itself classified her as a member in good standing is precisely the question Mason’s theory must survive.

‘He started too soon, a race against time

Mason brought his case under O.C.G.A. § 21-2-524(a), which gives a defeated candidate five days to file, beginning after the election results are certified.

Mason did not wait for the clock to start, and records from the Secretary of State laid out his morning, timestamp by timestamp. At 10:37 a.m. on May 22, Mason submitted his own open records request to the Secretary of State, asking for Burney-Butler’s Notice of Candidacy, affidavit, and complete qualifying file. At 11:45 a.m., 68 minutes later, his Petition was stamped in at the Clayton County Clerk’s office. The Petition promises to supplement with the affidavit itself “upon receipt.” Ten weeks later, nothing in the accessible court record shows that the supplement was ever filed. And at 5:30 that evening, the Board of Elections convened to certify the election results that Mason was already contesting.

The government’s own inboxes also document the afternoon as part of the same open records response. A copy of the Petition bearing a second stamp shows it reached the county elections office at 1:21 p.m. Three minutes later, Clayton County Elections Director Shauna Dozier sent it to Blake Evans, the Elections Director for the Georgia Secretary of State. Evans asked when the county planned to certify. “We are set to certify today at 5:30 PM,” Dozier replied. At 1:36 p.m., Evans forwarded the petition to the Secretary of State’s general counsel with his read: because a Superior Court judgeship is a state-level office, Mason “needs to wait until after state certification” to file a contest, a certification even further away than the county vote scheduled for that evening.

At 6:58 that night, about an hour and a half after Clayton certified, General Counsel Charlene McGowan responded. “I believe you are correct that this is premature,” she wrote. But because Mason had not named the Secretary of State as a respondent, there was “nothing for us to do at this point.” The state’s top election lawyer identified a possible defect the day the case was filed, concluded it was not the state’s problem, and moved on. Nothing in the records suggests anyone ever told Judge Mason or the court.

The contest statute is built for speed: the clerk is directed to issue process immediately, the defendant must answer within days of service, and the State Election Board must be notified. Mason did prepare that certificate. The elections office’s copy of the Petition includes a certificate of service addressed to the State Election Board’s chairman and recites that a copy was mailed to Burney-Butler. But that page was not in the copy of the court file the clerk’s office produced to me, and nothing in the accessible court record shows it was ever filed. More than 10 weeks after the filing, the accessible court file reflects that essentially nothing has happened.

“I would have expected it to be done by now. It should be done,” Sells said.

When I returned to the clerk’s office for a second look at the file, the answers got stranger. The “-99” now attached to the case number, a deputy clerk explained in a recorded conversation, is “just the judge code”: every judge of the Clayton Judicial Circuit had recused. Mason is their colleague; Chief Judge Mack removed Burney-Butler from her judgeship, and she challenged him just two years ago. The case now awaits a judge of the Sixth Judicial Administrative District, one who, as far as the public record shows, has not been appointed. “It’s not, like, one of our normal cases,” she told me.

Then I asked for the rest of the file: a sheriff’s entry of service, exhibits, certificates of service, anything beyond the petition, and the three entries of appearance. There was nothing else they could provide, I was told. When I pressed, the deputy clerk offered an explanation: “Certain things are sealed. And when it’s sealed, we are unable to see certain stuff.”

But “sealed” is a legal term with specific implications. It means a judge held a hearing and signed an order. So I asked to see the sealing order, and to the staff’s credit, they corrected themselves. There is no order. What they meant, they explained, is that when a case goes to the Sixth District after a bench-wide recusal, it is “automatically under lock and key under administration.” Even the clerk’s own staff can see only “the bare minimum”: party names, attorneys, and what appears online.

The court file in an active election contest, which seeks to overturn the votes of more than 25,000 Clayton County citizens, is locked away not by any judge’s order but automatically by administrative default, so thoroughly that the office legally responsible for maintaining the record cannot open it. Despite asking, I was not told what policy supports this process. As of this reporting, the most important document in this case cannot be read on any website, and the file cannot be inspected at any courthouse counter in Clayton County.

This administrative rule appears to contradict Georgia law. Under the Uniform Superior Court Rules, every court record is presumed public, and access can be restricted only by a judge’s order after a hearing, supported by written findings that privacy clearly outweighs the public’s interest. The clerks confirmed that no such order was issued in this case. No judge has entered any publicly available order. Indeed, based on the public record, no judge has even been assigned. Sells said a delay in designating a judge when a full bench recuses is normal. “But that shouldn’t explain all this.”

County residents weigh in
Clayton County voters have had no way of knowing about the lawsuit except through rumors circulating in the community. I spoke to Clayton County resident Timothy Vondell Jefferson, who calls himself ‘Mr. Clayton County’ and describes himself as a supporter of Judge Mason. He had heard a rumor that someone was contesting an election, but he did not know who it was or any of the details. “Voters in Clayton County should know about this lawsuit,” Jefferson said.

When asked if he agreed with Judge Mason trying to have Burney-Butler disqualified and himself declared the winner, he stated, “If there is a valid reason, she should be removed, but if it’s just throwing mud against the wall hoping it will stick, I don’t agree with that, or if he is coming from a sore loser’s point of view, I don’t agree with none of that.”

Other members of the community expressed disappointment that Judge Mason filed a lawsuit. “It’s really disappointing that he would file a lawsuit to get a position back that he was clearly voted out of,” said Attania Jean-Funny, a Clayton County resident and former candidate for county commission. She described the inability to access this lawsuit as the “type of underhanded things we are trying to get out of our political system.”

When I described the petition to another Clayton County voter who asked to be identified only by her last name, Chambers, her reaction was to first process it. “We want people to operate within a process,” she said. “The process allowed for questions about her eligibility at the very beginning. It would be different if there were no other avenue—but there was.” Mason waited until three days after he lost. Chambers suspects she knows why: “He probably operated from some degree of arrogance—to think this woman could not unseat you.”

Chambers expressed concern that this case could affect voters’ willingness to engage in the electoral process in the future. “Voters served their civic responsibility,” she said, “and to now make it seem like that’s all for naught—it just concerns me about the precedent it sets,” particularly with midterm elections approaching and particularly in a predominantly Black county whose votes are the ones a court is being asked to void.

Chambers summed up her feelings in one sentence, “Don’t have me as a voter go through this whole process, and then with the stroke of a pen, you call it into question—when you didn’t do that in the beginning.”

The lawyers arrive
The docket does reveal some movement. A lawyer for Burney-Butler, Aryka Moore, entered an appearance on July 2. Then, on July 28, with an updated filing on July 30, Judge Mason went from pro se to retaining Ronald Freeman and Patrise Perkins-Hooker. Perkins-Hooker is a former president of the State Bar of Georgia. To argue about what State Bar membership means, Judge Mason has hired the woman who once ran the State Bar.

Moore said her client had no comment at this time. Attorneys for Judge Mason did not respond to detailed written questions by the deadline. Neither did Clerk of Superior Court Chanae Q. Clemons, who received written questions about the handling of the file. This story will be updated if they do.

The clock is running
Judge-elect Burney-Butler’s term begins January 1. Litigation may yet answer the question of whether an attorney who is an Inactive Member in Good Standing can be elected to the Superior Court bench in Georgia. But somewhere between Jonesboro and McDonough sits a case with no assigned judge, no hearing date, and no public paper trail, a case that was supposed to be decided in days but has now drifted for months, waiting to determine whether the choice made by more than 25,000 Clayton County voters will stand.

The statute’s clock was designed to run in days. It has been running since May.

Over 16,000 people, mostly wearing pink, filled Atlanta’s State Farm Arena as the Atlanta Dream and Las Vegas Aces battled on the court.

​The fans wore pink jerseys and dresses, and a few sported vibrant pink hair. Celebrities such as Mariah The Scientist, Aniya Harvey, “Love Island,” Monalea, Flo Milli, and actress Crystal Renee Hayslett were all in attendance to support the Atlanta Dream’s “Barbie Night.” The pink theme celebrated Angel Reese’s new collaboration with Barbie, which debuted in retail stores during WNBA All-Star Weekend.

Angel Reese and a fan with a Barbie Signature Role Model Angel Reese Doll Photo by A.R. Shaw

​But beyond the fun theme of women and girls wearing all-pink on “Barbie Night,” it proved to be a powerful moment of representation.

​Dolls are not just toys kids use to pass the time; they reflect how kids see themselves within the broader framework of society.

​“I didn’t have dolls that really looked like me much, and that’s why I really wanted to make sure this was super intentional,” Reese said prior to the game. “Because now they have a doll that looks like you, with nails and hair. That was something that was important for me when getting the doll.”

​Reese became known as the “Bayou Barbie” during her college years at Louisiana State University. The nickname followed her to the WNBA, and she also held two “Barbie Nights” while playing with the Chicago Sky in 2024 and 2025. But this year’s “Barbie Night” has a bit more history involved, considering that Reese is now the first WNBA player with a Barbie doll.

​“Being a first always means a lot,” Reese said, now known as the ATL Barbie. “There are a lot of women that have come before me that have walked so I can run. So many of the legends of this game have reached out to me and just poured into me, and it really just means a lot to me.”

Kennedy Saulsberry, Shirley Saulsberry, Kameren Saulsberry—Photo by A.R. Shaw

​Thousands of young girls at State Farm Arena held the Angel Reese Barbie doll while watching Reese play on the court. Atlanta Dream fan Alexis Mosley attended the game with her 6-year-old daughter, Nevaeh Jones, who held her Angel Reese Barbie doll in hand from start to finish. 

​“My daughter absolutely thinks the Angel Reese Barbie doll is magical,” Mosley said. “She loves Black Barbie dolls and to have one that she can hold, see on TV, and can come to the game, that’s everything to her. I hope she remembers this moment so she can grow up and make something great of herself as well.”

​Adult fans also found inspiration. Kameren Saulsberry, an attorney, has collected dolls since childhood and brought her Angel Reese Barbie doll to the game.

​“It means a lot to me, my whole life, having a doll that could represent me as a Black woman and being raised by a strong Black woman,” Saulsberry said. “I always wanted to look up to role models as a kid, so having a doll who could symbolize a strong role model of a strong Black woman is phenomenal and amazing. It teaches us that we can be what we want to be. You can be a WNBA star, a lawyer, a doctor, a pharmacist, a teacher, or an astronaut.”

Alexis Mosley and daughter Nevaeh Jones—Photo by A.R. Shaw

​Reese echoed those sentiments about the role she plays in inspiring the next generation.

​“If you see it, you can be it. You can believe it,” Reese said. “Hopefully, the young girls are inspired. They see a Barbie that looks like them. Knowing that there’s no limitation. Anything you want to do, you can put your mind to.”

​When asked what she would say to her younger self, Reese took a moment to reflect on her childhood. From not having many dolls that looked like her to having her own Barbie, Reese has come a long way, and her journey is just beginning.

​“[My childhood self] would probably be proud of me and where I am right now,” Reese shared. “It hasn’t been an easy journey for me. I would tell her to just continue to push through, drive through, and there’s always going to be a light down the tunnel.”

Behind closed doors, developers are fast-tracking AI data centers into Mississippi’s majority-Black neighborhoods. Residents want to know the cost and whether the boom will bring generational wealth or generational harm

By Azia Cimone | BRAINchild Media

Over 70 concerned citizens settle into the openness of Warren Hall, a vibrant student life center on the campus of historically Black Tougaloo College. It’s the perfect space for a diverse, multigenerational group of community members to become a classroom as Mississippi For A Just World (MSJW) organizers guide them through the evening’s theology: “People Over Politics: Stop Data Centers Edition.”

Pops of orange and blue adorn each table with materials and notebooks containing a workbook reviewing community agreements, presentation slides, and a glossary of related terms: Artificial Intelligence, Generative AI, Data Center, Hyperscale. The folder also includes a data center fact sheet, a thorough local decision-making guide, interactive worksheets like “stop data centers” bingo, word search, and a crossword puzzle, and a POP pen.

Cassandra Bennett, who lives in Ward 2 close to the college, said that she signed up for the community-hosted training on July 16, 2026, because she wanted to learn more about data centers. “There was little to no information out there. I came here to learn whatever is being provided and take it back to my church.”

Evelyn Rankin lives in Clinton, Miss., where a data center was put near her home before the community was informed. Now she feels more in touch with what’s happening. “I have a lot of fear now ‘cause I think this is going to severely impact the community as a whole,” Rankin said. “Our environmental structure will change, seems like drastically, and I don’t know if we’re prepared for it.”

Bennett also agreed that the training was informational and was shocked to hear what was happening in Southaven, where residents have been plagued since February 2026 by constant noise and vibration pollution from methane gas turbines powering one of Elon Musk’s xAI data centers, Colossus 2, in Memphis, Tenn. “It hit home…I didn’t even know about that.”

Matt Casteel, founder of Wurmworks, speaks during Mississippi For A Just World’s People Over Politics: Stop Data Centers community training. Casteel shared concerns about Saxum Investment Company’s proposed 230-acre data center development near his neighborhood in north Jackson. Photo credit: Azia Cimone

She also brought up Matt Casteel, founder of Wurmworks, who described how the New Jersey-based developer, Saxum Investment Company, is working to develop 230 acres into a data center that would potentially be right in his backyard, just a few miles from Tougaloo, in a predominantly Black neighborhood. “That’s personal,” Bennett emphasized. “That’s how personal this is, and this is some need to know information at this point.”

Searching for Answers, Information Gap Emerges

Conversations about AI data centers have been happening in silos all across the state. Major industries and developers discuss how Mississippi is ripe for investment with endless opportunities across its expansive rural land tracts. State and local elected officials champion the promise of data centers, quickly adding millions of dollars of tax revenue and providing high-paying jobs to their constituents. Utilities discuss infrastructure needs and possibilities. Environmental advocates work to build awareness of concerns around air and noise pollution, water, and energy use. Technology Experts continue to research and educate communities on what’s coming next down the AI pipeline as they build on the foundation of an already rapidly growing industry.

Residents find themselves caught in the crossfire of closed-door meetings, non-disclosure agreements, and fast-tracked data center developments being built near their neighborhoods. Vulnerable communities are trying to make sense of it all while fearing for the livelihood of their families, viscerally concerned about the impact these decisions will have on future generations. To many, this is the same environmental injustice, just repackaged within a different industry at a different time.

Mississippi has become a target for large-scale AI data center development as technology companies seek available land, energy capacity, and infrastructure to support the industry’s rapid growth. Photo credit: Angie Julian via Canva.com

After attending public hearings and data center forums and speaking with AI experts, community leaders, economic development practitioners, elected officials, and residents, an information gap emerged, leaving residents with little agency over the outcomes in their own communities. Speculation, misinformation, fear, and polarized opinions based on self-interest are widespread, while an important question remains: How can Mississippi ensure that this AI boom creates economic development equitably to induce generational wealth—not generational harm—for Black and Brown communities?

Understanding Data Centers

So what is a data center? It is a physical room or facility that houses IT infrastructure for building, running, and delivering digital applications and services, including support for AI workloads. These facilities run continuously to convert electricity into reliable computing capacity for AI cloud and internet-based industries such as health care, education, logistics, and entertainment. Data centers also store and manage the information associated with those applications and services.

Data centers have been in the U.S. since the 1940s, and there are now over 2,000 across the country. Most of them are in Virginia and California, followed by Texas, New York, and Illinois. However, due to the current AI boom, technological advancements have drastically increased server demand. In turn, it requires data centers to be built across the country to meet demand, as AI has been woven into various aspects of everyday life for the past 10 years.

Hyperscale data centers house thousands of computer servers that power artificial intelligence, cloud computing, and other digital services, while requiring significant amounts of electricity, water, and supporting infrastructure. Photo credit: CNV Studio via Canva.com

Although data centers come in various sizes, the current debate centers on the push to build extremely large facilities operated by companies such as xAI, Meta, Google, Amazon, and Microsoft. These hyperscale data centers require significant amounts of electricity, water, and supporting infrastructure, including existing electrical grids and natural gas pipelines. Regardless of size, people have the right to know how data centers are designed, powered, and integrated into their communities.

Why Mississippi?

Tech leaders have set their sights on developing large-scale data centers in Mississippi since January 2026. “Mississippi is an attractive place for people who want to build data centers, especially the hyperscale ones,” said Dr. Nashlie Sephus, founder and CEO of The Beanpath and an active AI Scientist. “One, because those developers see Mississippi as a very prime piece of real estate because it’s underdeveloped in many respects.”

Mississippi also has a surplus of traditional energy. “There’s a lot of room left on our energy grid, more so than other states. We’re looking at the ratios of people to the energy grid,” Sephus explains. “Jackson itself has access to geothermal energy, being that we actually sit on the top of a volcano. So that’s an opportunity for a lot of creative, innovative things that data centers are looking for.”

The Jackson Volcano is an extinct volcano located nearly 2,900 feet beneath the Mississippi Coliseum in Jackson, Miss. The uplifted terrain surrounding the volcano forms the Jackson Dome, a geologic structure containing dense rock formations, naturally occurring carbon dioxide used in oil production, and potential geothermal energy—features researchers say could make Mississippi attractive for future AI data center development. Photo credit: CRobertson via Canva.com

Gov. Tate Reeves published a press release on January 8, announcing that Elon Musk’s artificial intelligence company xAI has invested over $20B in Southaven, Miss., to retrofit the former Duke Energy plant with 27 methane gas turbines to power Colossus 2, Musk’s second data center in Memphis, Tenn. Gov. Reeves said this was the largest economic development in Mississippi’s history, touting that a project this size would transform the region and bring amazing opportunities to DeSoto County residents for generations to come. Plaintiffs have since sued xAI over the constant noise pollution, emotional distress, and loss of property value, representing over 10,000 affected neighbors.

This was the first red flag to Mississippi communities of how data centers plan to invest in the state, as leaders aggressively pursue data centers through tax incentives, fee-in-lieu agreements, and utility partnerships. There are now four large-scale data centers being built in the Jackson Metropolitan area, with a total of seven being developed statewide.

Five Weeks of Public Debate

Over five weeks, Jacksonians and concerned citizens across the metropolitan area have engaged in a Data Center Public Education Forum at Jackson State University on June 12; two city council public hearings on June 22 and July 6; a city council meeting on July 14; followed by a Mississippi Department of Environmental Quality (MDEQ) public hearing on the draft air construction permit proposed for Entergy’s Traceview Advanced Power Station, a gas-fired power plant in Madison County, later that same evening.

A flyer advertises the Data Centers: A Public Education Forum held at Jackson State University on June 12, 2026, one of several public events aimed at educating residents about proposed AI data center developments in Mississippi. Photo credit: Azia Cimone

Engineer, researcher, and public health professional Dr. Erin Shirley Orey volunteers at the Environmental Advocates of Mississippi, a grassroots nonprofit focused on empowering residents through advocacy and education to fight environmental harm, particularly in Hinds and Madison counties. The local nonprofit was established earlier this year as a response to the data center and proposed energy site in Ridgeland. “I just started getting involved in this work because I was seeing how community members just had no idea what was going on, were not aware of what’s coming, and had no input in what’s coming.” Orey admitted she was unfamiliar with data centers and what other states were dealing with across the country, so she started researching.

At the June 22 public hearing at city hall, Orey made a public comment encouraging the city council to take a step back and slow down. She told leaders to be proactive and conduct the necessary assessments to protect communities. Orey also lifted up that the Saxum development had quietly expanded from 190 to 230 acres, exemplifying the lack of transparency residents have spoken out about.

“One of the things I would like to ask any data center developer is, why so much secrecy?” Orey said during an interview with BRAINchild Media. “Why do they feel like that is an appropriate way to approach this when you come into our community?”

Dr. Erin Shirley Orey delivers public comments during a Mississippi Department of Environmental Quality hearing on a proposed gas-fired power plant at Greater Pearlie Grove Missionary Baptist Church in Jackson, Miss., on July 14, 2026. Photo credit: Azia Cimone

She mentioned how close some of these data centers are to homes, and pondered the long-term cumulative effects of adding a data center and a gas power plant to an area that already has a landfill, all within half a mile of each other. “It’s just too much,” Orey sighed. At the MDEQ public hearing, she challenged the moderators: “What does it mean to live next to a gas plant? Would you live next to it?”

Kadin Love is the Gulf South manager for the Dogwood Alliance, an environmental justice nonprofit organization. He believes that Jackson is not ready for any data centers, saying they will exacerbate the city’s crumbling water infrastructure, putting even more pressure on families battling persistent poverty, lack of health care, food deserts and increased gun violence.

“Innovation is not liberation,” Love said. “We are often put in the position where we have to sacrifice our humanity, sacrifice our lives in order for a promise of something that often doesn’t happen. And so, if we’re moving forward, then we have to be able to invest in things that are Black. And when I say invest in things that are Black, I’m not talking about businesses, I’m talking about people.”

As an experienced organizer and strategist working closely with the Gloster community in Amite County, there’s much for Mississippi to learn from their decade-long community battles and scars with the Drax Biomass Bioenergy plant. The facility has faced multiple fines over air pollution violations, and residents have named the wood pellet plant responsible for their worsening air quality and widespread health problems in the majority-Black town of approximately 900 people.

“Initially, the majority of the community was not aware that there was a plant there that was causing issues, but they were seeing shifts in their health,” Love explained. Gloster residents began to notice an increase in lung issues, coughing spells, nosebleeds, headaches, and more dust on their properties. In 2021, MDEQ fined Drax $2.5M for overpolluting by three times the legal limit. Instead of justice being served on behalf of the community, Drax paid the fine and continued business as usual.

“When we’re talking about an industry that brings in billions of dollars, they set aside money every year to pay fines. Those fines go directly to the state and don’t go to the communities, so there’s no actual recourse,” Love said. “They’re not actually paying back for the harm they caused. We’re still currently in the midst of that fight of trying to get the community some justice, essentially, and also some accountability.”

Bishop Ronnie Crudup, Sr., the chair of the Downtown Jackson Partners and the Diocese Bishop for the Fellowship of International Churches, also attended the public hearings and the city council meeting on July 14. He believes a data center in Jackson will bolster economic development and help the Capital City compete with surrounding cities that are already reaping the benefits from the added tax revenue their data centers bring.

“They’re gonna become even more attractive while we become less attractive. We’re staying in place,” Crudup protested. “Those folks are progressing and moving forward. You get to the place where you can’t compete.”

When asked why he was pro-data center, Crudup made it clear that he is pro-economic development. “I want to see this city prosper, and it cannot prosper without strong economic development vehicles. Data centers are one of those vehicles that can even the playing field real, real quick.”

Moratorium Granted: What’s Next?

At the city council meeting on July 14, the session opened up with several public comments before voting on the moratorium. Casteel reminded everyone of the current zoning rules, saying that his neighbor, Saxum, is already in violation. Sabir Abdul-Haqq, MSJW’s director of public engagement, cited real-life examples of the negative effects of data centers in Oregon and Virginia, encouraging Jackson to pass the moratorium so the city can take time to develop responsibly.

Robert Ireland, the attorney representing Saxum’s interest in building a data center on the Forest Avenue Extension, shared a draft ordinance with the city council clerk, stating it addresses the community’s expressed needs. He also mentioned that Madison County will see $1.6B in ad valorem tax per year over the next 10 years, bringing in over $5B from their data center over the next 30 years.

Community members pack the Jackson City Council chambers ahead of a vote on a 183-day moratorium on AI data center-related decisions on July 14, 2026. The council approved the measure 5–2, creating additional time for research and public engagement. Photo credit: Azia Cimone

Soon after the public comments, the council passed a 183-day moratorium on data center-related decisions with a 5-2 vote. Ward 1 Councilman Ashby Foote and Ward 5 Councilman Vernon Hartley, who is the Council’s newly elected president, opposed the moratorium.

Tension began to fade away in the city hall as community members relaxed slightly at this new window of opportunity. That same day, New York Governor Kathy Hochul signed an Executive Order establishing the nation’s first moratorium on new hyperscale data centers and setting the strongest standards for data center development as a blueprint for the rest of the nation.

The moratorium has created what Jacksonians haven’t had for several months: time. What should communities, elected officials and industry leaders do now?

Crudup believes there should be transparency and regulations for all industries coming to the state, even though he doesn’t agree with the extended moratorium. Jackson has to remember its own assets, self-interest, and community standards, while understanding that these industries are coming to the city because Jackson has something they want.

“You negotiate that up front, don’t leave it to happenstance, good luck or prayer,” Crudup insisted, adding that there’s no need to burn bridges or be uncivil to one another, despite having differing opinions.

“It’s communication. You talk to people. Now, you can’t malign folks from the very beginning and expect to get everything you want from them. It’s how you approach the circumstance. Whoever’s on the opposite side of me in this, that is their opinion. I could be wrong in my opinion. They could be wrong in their opinion.”

Love says there should be a ban on data centers in Jackson altogether due to its vulnerable position, but understands it should be a community decision. Now is the time to ask the hard questions about power, energy, water, and pollution to create boundaries that all industries must respect if they want to do business in Jackson.

“What are the specifics around these data centers that they’re trying to put in our community? Where are they coming from? Which entity is doing it?” Love continued, stating that the Capital City should learn from Gloster because history shows how hard it is to stop a major industry once they’re established in a community.

For Orey, this moratorium is an opportunity to put together the right team consisting of advocates, organizers, scientists, lawyers, realtors, elected officials and residents to learn from other similarly sized municipalities and even other countries on how to do this in a way that benefits communities.

Orey would also like to see the added tax revenue directly invested into Jackson to fortify the city’s water and energy infrastructure, fully fund public schools, and beautify its communities, along with intentional community engagement and regular updates from these tech industries. “I just think that they should be more engaging throughout the process. Throughout the entire process, not just at the end.

Sephus believes that this moratorium gives Jackson an opportunity to position itself as the standard for how a predominantly Black city works together to make sure their communities are not exploited, but equitably invested in.

“One thing that I’ve seen from my research is that the elected officials put together a task force and they can also acquire certain service level agreements,” Sephus said. “This happens anytime anybody builds something of that magnitude in your community. This is the time to ramp up the research team, ramp up the plans, allocate the budgets. This is the time to do some scouting. I hope that another 180 days from now, we’re not just back at the same place.”

At the end of a packed community training session, Candace Abdul-Tawwab, the executive director of MSJW, reflected on what moved her to advocate against data centers in the first place.

“I am a Black Southern woman, and I am a descendant of the most oppressed people in this country,” Abdul-Tawwab stated confidently. “I have a unique lens to identify oppression and brutality and terror. I’ve been watching data centers and AI for a while, and in January, I remember saying, ‘I know this is coming to our state. Why wouldn’t it come to our state? We need to get prepared.’” Abdul-Tawwab believes that this moratorium is not a time for rest. It’s time for deeper organizing in Jackson ward by ward to keep pressure on legislators and city council members.

Abdul-Tawwab and Love both acknowledge that technology is going to continue to advance, and that they are not anti-progress. “I’m not going to sit here and act like I don’t use my phone, act like I don’t use the internet,” Love clarified. “I also understand and am well acquainted with the Black blood that it took for us to have these things. This is a country built on blood. We don’t have to continue to build on blood. We can build on a stronger foundation.”

However, once all of the necessary questions have been asked, information has been researched, and public engagement has been intentional with transparency, at the end of the day, if the community decides against developing data centers in their respective communities, industries and elected officials must respect it.

“Success to me looks like we have people in [office] that really believe in cooperative governance,” Abdul-Tawwab said. “Success looks like they bend to the will of the people. If the people do not want data centers, then we don’t get data centers. The end.”

By Stephen Oduntan

To most people, Scott Soliz looks healthy.

But appearances, he says, can be deceiving.

“It’s an invisible disease,” said Soliz, 35, who has lived with sickle cell disease since birth. “People think we’re okay because we look okay, but inside we’re not.”

That invisible struggle became one of the defining themes at Warrior Con 2026, where patients, caregivers, physicians, researchers and advocates from across the United States—and as far away as the United Kingdom—gathered in Los Angeles to celebrate scientific progress while confronting the barriers that continue to shape life with sickle cell disease.

The conference came at a pivotal moment for the sickle cell community. Gene-editing therapies have ushered in a new era of treatment, offering hope that was unimaginable just a decade ago. People with sickle cell disease are living longer than previous generations, and researchers say advances in molecular medicine are transforming what may be possible for future patients.

Yet for many attendees, the greatest obstacles are no longer found in the laboratory.

They are found in emergency rooms, where patients say they are too often viewed with suspicion when seeking treatment for excruciating pain. They are found in persistent misconceptions that sickle cell disease affects only Black people or that those living with the condition “look fine” and therefore cannot be seriously ill. And they are found in longstanding disparities in funding, access to specialized care and public awareness.

“Many people would say the biggest advancement is gene therapies and the ability to alter the DNA to correct the sickle cell mutation,” said Dr. Lakiea Bailey, founder and executive director of the Sickle Cell Community Consortium, who has lived with the disease since childhood. “It is a great advancement.”

But, she cautioned, scientific breakthroughs alone are not enough.

“I think we also need advancements in just basic standards of care, which is still greatly lacking,” Bailey said. “We are definitely living much longer than we used to. However, we are still not the recipients of support the way many other diseases are.”

Bailey, who was diagnosed with sickle cell disease at age 3 and earned a doctorate in molecular hematology and regenerative medicine, said one of the greatest barriers patients continue to face is how their pain is perceived.

“Once we go in for treatment, we’re often accused of drug seeking instead of offered the help that we need,” she said. “People are sent away while still quite ill. After a while, it gets difficult, and when you find yourself having to choose between death and dignity, after a while dignity starts to win out.”

Her comments echoed those of attendees throughout the convention, many of whom described living with an illness that remains largely misunderstood despite decades of medical progress.

While researchers continue pushing the boundaries of treatment, longtime advocate Dr. Joyce El, founder and CEO of the nonprofit Journey By Grace, said the promise of new treatments must be matched by greater support for the everyday realities of living with sickle cell disease.

El praised advances in gene therapy and research but said patients continue to face challenges that cannot be solved in a laboratory.

“People still have to live,” she said. “They still need services such as transportation, housing and food. We can’t get so caught up in spending money on conventions and research that we forget people still have to live.”

She also said families need better support as young people transition from pediatric to adult care, a period she described as one of the most overlooked stages of living with sickle cell disease.

“When they turn 18, everything changes,” El said. “Their doctors change. Their benefits change. If families aren’t preparing them, they’re not ready.”

For El, improving public understanding remains just as important as advancing medical treatment.

“Sickle cell is a real disease,” she said. “Warriors are not drug-seeking individuals. They experience real pain.”

“It’s a hidden disease,” said Vashti-Iona Beckford, a sickle cell trait carrier and advocate from London. “A lot of people don’t understand how someone could be in pain if they don’t look like they’re in pain.”

For Beckford, Warrior Con offers something that medicine alone cannot provide: community.

It helps to be around people that know it’s a hidden disease. You’re not isolated in your feelings.”

That sense of belonging is what continues to draw hundreds of families, patients and advocates together each year—not only to learn about the latest treatments, but to remind one another that no one should face the disease alone.

For former NFL wide receiver Devard Darling, the consequences of misunderstanding sickle cell trait are deeply personal.

In 2001, Darling’s identical twin brother, Devaughn, collapsed and died during an offseason football conditioning workout at Florida State University after complications related to sickle cell trait. The tragedy, which drew national attention to the condition, transformed Darling into an advocate for greater awareness among athletes, coaches and medical professionals.

“Back then, we had no idea,” Darling said. “We didn’t know the complications of having the trait or how deadly it could be in certain situations.”

The brothers had dreamed of playing football together at Florida State. Instead, Devaughn’s death became the catalyst for a lifelong mission to educate others through the As One Foundation, which promotes awareness of both sickle cell disease and sickle cell trait.

“If we knew how to prepare our athletes, our coaches and our trainers, things might have been different,” Darling said.

He points to one of the major changes that followed his brother’s death: in 2010, the NCAA began requiring Division I athletes to be tested for sickle cell trait or sign a waiver acknowledging the risks before participation.

Still, Darling believes significant misconceptions remain.

“People think sickle cell trait doesn’t matter because many carriers never experience symptoms,” he said. “But that’s where it begins.”

One misconception he is determined to challenge is the belief that sickle cell affects only Black people.

“It’s not a skin disease,” Darling said. “It’s a blood disease.”

While sickle cell disease is most common among people whose ancestry traces to regions where malaria has been prevalent—including parts of Africa, the Mediterranean, the Middle East and India—it can affect people of many racial and ethnic backgrounds.

“The medical field has to change,” Darling said. “That’s what we need the funding for—research. Knowledge is power.”

His message echoed throughout Warrior Con, where education was viewed not simply as awareness, but as a way to save lives.

For many attendees, however, Warrior Con is about more than the latest research or policy discussions. It is about finding a community that understands what life with sickle cell disease actually feels like.

Scott Soliz said Warrior Con gives people living with the condition something many struggle to find elsewhere: a community that understands their experiences.

“When you come to an event like this, you’re talking to different warriors about similar experiences,” Scott said. “It’s a breath of fresh air to know that you’re not alone.”

His twin brother, Steve Soliz, said one of the biggest challenges is combating misconceptions about people living with the disease.

“People mistake lazy with being tired or fatigued,” Steve said. “We’re not lazy at all. We’re very talented people. We just have to take time to heal and focus on our health.”

Bailey said that sense of community is exactly what Warrior Con was created to foster.

“I want everyone living with sickle cell and caregivers to leave here feeling seen and empowered,” she said. “I want others who don’t know much about sickle cell to leave here knowing a lot more and how to support the people in their lives.”

Looking to the future, Bailey said she is encouraged by the next generation of patients and advocates.

“They have more access to treatments than we ever have. They’re more knowledgeable than previous generations, and they’re more willing to fight for what is right,” she said. “I’m very excited about these kids.”