Asanta Brooks is an author and freelance writer. Her passion for writing stemmed from creating and illustrating comic strips as a child, which lead to her becoming involved with the high school paper and excelling as a feature writer for her college paper. She resides in Jackson with her adorably energetic four-year-old son, Alex, and today we’re excited to share a little more about her and why she’s a part of Our Jackson Home.

Raising the Bar

Raised in Leland, Mississippi, by her enlightened and encouraging grandmother, Rochell Staten knew from a young age that she could do and become anything she wanted. “My grandmother wanted nothing but the best for me, and she made sure that education was a priority,” Rochell says. “Her believing in me […] made me believe in myself even more.” As a senior in high school, earning good grades and with only one year of track and field under her belt, Rochell landed a full four-year athletic scholarship to Mississippi Valley State University.

Jackson Grown: Wakeema Hollis

August 1966 was a complicated time in the United States. Across the American landscape, leaders emerged, convictions solidified and movements progressed around highly-charged civil rights issues such as voting, education, and worker rights. It was also host to a range of less visible currents that touched the lives of African Americans. Frances, the daughter of West Tennessee sharecroppers and devoted parents, grew up in this time of tectonic social and political shifts.

The Power of New

Life changes quickly. It is the start of another school year. The word “new” seems to permeate all conversations: new clothes, new shoes, new school supplies, new teachers, new schedules, new friends, new experiences, and new adventures. These things seem to give us all a fresh start and a regeneration of life for this season. But for some, this way of life is not a given. We have all heard the old saying, “The one thing in life that is constant is change.”

Fabulous & Fierce

It’s mid-afternoon on St. Patrick’s Day, and West Alley BBQ is a beehive. Residual customers grab a late lunch, employees make preparations in anticipation of a busy evening, and I sit to one side, shuffling through my bag to find a notepad. I am late for the interview, but I had told her I would be. When I walked in, the fellow said she was waiting for me, which I tried not to feel bad about, knowing neither he nor she was upset.