Raquel King

Today my heart is deeply grieved for the passing of a giant, a pioneer, a powerhouse whose work shifted the ground beneath this country and opened doors for Black people and people of color that once felt impossible to move.

But for me he was family.

He was a grandfather in every way that mattered. He showed up—to recitals, to birthdays, family gatherings, to school events. To moments big and small, when presence meant everything.
Every time I saw him, he made me stand tall and say, “I am somebody.” Not as a slogan, but as a reminder of who I was and who I was called to be.

I remember holding your hand while walking in Selma on the 40th anniversary of the Voting Rights Act—feeling the weight of history, faith, and love in that moment.

He didn’t just lead from podiums—he led by proximity, by care, by consistency.

He stepped up and became a father to my dad when one was needed most. That kind of love isn’t loud or performative—it’s steady, sacrificial, and deeply formative. Because of him, generations were shaped not only by his public courage, but by his private devotion.

May his life continue to speak. May we honor him not only by remembering his name, but by living out the love, responsibility, service, and courage he modeled so well. We must continue his legacy by keeping hope alive.

Rest well, @revjjackson You are deeply loved and endlessly missed. ❤️‍🩹🕊️