Chanae Jackson

The Woman Behind Accidental Activism

Story By: SAMANTHA CHERY

Chanae Jackson, 41, loves nothing more than enjoying weekends with her children, aged 21, 20 and 16. Whether they’re popping popcorn, arguing the results of their latest round of Uno or Monopoly, discussing politics or religion, or leaving the movie theater dewy-eyed after a showing of The Hate U Give, Jackson cherishes each moment as they reflect and giggle through the night. They can’t frequent movie theaters anymore due to the COVID-19 pandemic, but their TV lineup includes Fresh Off the Boat, The Goldbergs and Family Guy, which Jackson allowed the kids to watch even when they were younger. Jackson would stay in her happy place at home and at peace, but the world outside their home doesn’t mirror the future she wants her kids to inherit. Every day she fears that someone will inform her that one of her sons has been detained by police or killed. She waits for the day that her son can have the same opportunities as his friends with the same experiences but European-sounding names.

Gainesville and Ocala residents know Jackson as the “accidental activist.” She speaks her mind, and people listen to her. But not many know who she is outside of news stories.

Her goal wasn’t for her name to be magnified in news stories. She calls her advocacy selfish, as she simply strived to affect change for her children. When her colleagues became too busy or too hesitant to be the public face of change the community sought, she felt she had no choice but to fill the role of activist.

“I’m just doing the things I’m supposed to do,” she said in the Facebook Live discussion “Uncomfortable Voices: Economics and Reparations,” hosted by Rev. Ron Rawls.

Jackson catches about four hours of sleep each night. The rest of the day, she’s up and about, mobilizing the community for change: change in the local public school system, change in how Black families invest, change in the policing system and change in healthcare access.

Being a public figure may have been unintentional for her, but her boldness wasn’t a mistake.

Jackson’s early life was filled with many challenges. Her mother was a crack user, and her father was incarcerated for much of her childhood for selling drugs, so Jackson acted as the primary caretaker because she was the oldest of eight children, even when raised by their aunt and great grandmother.

“I knew early on that my decisions don’t just affect me,” she said.

While her childhood circumstances meant she had to make sacrifices to survive, education reimagined the trajectory of her life course.

When Jackson entered second grade, she tested into the gifted program, granting her educational opportunities that other Black students in Alachua County were not receiving.

She learned to play chess and be creative in arts programs. She spent six weeks at a Duke University summer program for highachieving students. She was surrounded by adults who had the money to vacation in places like Egypt or the Hamptons and who exposed her to a wider range of vocabulary that helped her do well on the SAT.

But she was often the only Black student in her classes. The lack of people who looked like her in her classrooms made her hide her authentic personality.

She didn’t have a voice and didn’t feel like she could be herself at school until she attended Eastside High, where she took advanced placement and honors classes and was immersed with more Black students.

Eastside wasn’t the subpar school that Jackson was warned about before she became a student there. Instead, she believes the negative reputation was fabricated by assumptions about the large population of Black students.

From a young age, Jackson has witnessed institutional flaws that disadvantage Black people. So she dreams of a world where there’s room for critical thinkers in education. She wants schools to bring back curriculum for life skills like writing a check, and she hopes they’ll start teaching an accurate, unbiased version of history in classes.

Jackson believes this robust educational system can better accommodate diverse students and create a better society.

“America always says, ‘Oh, we’re a melting pot.’ I don’t think it should be a melting pot, because when you’re a melting pot, many things melt together to become something else,” she said. “We should be like a salad, because when you’re a salad, everything comes together in order for it to taste good and each person can still be whoever they are. The perfect world for me would be a very, very tasty salad.”