02/21/2026
Let the record show what this moment reveals about the moral character of those in power in what Maya Angelou called “these yet to be United States of America.”
A towering civil rights giant, Rev. Jesse Jackson, a man who marched with Dr. King, negotiated the release of hostages, registered millions of Black voters, fought apartheid, and spent his life preaching justice, equality, and hope, was denied the dignity of lying in honor at the U.S. Capitol by Speaker of the House Mike Johnson.
Yet Charlie Kirk, a deeply polarizing political figure whose rhetoric trafficked in division was elevated, memorialized, and publicly honored.
That is not oversight. That is not neutrality. That is selective reverence and blatant, racist hypocrisy.
Rev. Jesse Jackson was not merely a Black leader. He was a global statesman of conscience. He stood in the gap for the poor, the marginalized, the forgotten. Even in death, his legacy is being treated as expendable by a government that is increasingly comfortable erasing Black history while appropriating patriotic symbolism.
Meanwhile, President Trump ordered flags lowered to half-staff after the assassination of Charlie Kirk, a close political ally whose death prompted official mourning and national tributes. But when a civil rights icon whose work reshaped American democracy passed away, the same urgency, the same national reverence, the same symbolic honor has not been equally reflected in federal gestures of mourning.
That contrast speaks louder than any press release ever could.
One man spent decades trying to bring America together across racial, economic, and political lines. The other built a career amplifying grievance politics and ideological warfare.
One fought for voting rights, economic justice, and human dignity. The other thrived in a media ecosystem fueled by cultural division.
And yet, the unifier is sidelined while the divider was elevated.
Denying Jackson the Rotunda is more than a procedural decision, it is a political statement about whose legacy this government chooses to sanctify and whose legacy it is comfortable minimizing.
The U.S. Capitol Rotunda should honor figures like Jesse Jackson, who shaped the nation’s moral trajectory. To exclude him from that sacred civic recognition is about white supremacy, power, politics, and historical narrative control.
It tells Black America, yet again, that: Our heroes don’t matter, our history is disposable, and our contributions are dismissible.
This is the same pattern we see in the broader assault on Black history, the rollback of DEI, the sanitizing of civil rights narratives, and the quiet rehabilitation of voices that questioned Black competence, denied systemic racism, and distorted the truth about Black communities.
The disrespect shown to Rev. Jackson and his family is not isolated. It is symptomatic of a governing culture led overwhelmingly by white men who are comfortable honoring figures aligned with their ideology while marginalizing those who challenged America to live up to its creed.
Jesse Jackson helped bend the arc of history toward justice.
He opened doors that many now walk through. He carried the torch of Dr. King when it was unpopular and dangerous to do so.
To deny him the honor afforded to lesser figures is not just an insult to a man, it is an insult to the Civil Rights Movement, to Black America, and to the very ideals this nation claims to uphold.
History will remember who was honored. And history will also remember who was intentionally overlooked.
Because when a nation chooses to diminish its moral giants while elevating its ideological allies, it reveals exactly which version of America it is trying to resurrect, and far too often, that version looks disturbingly closer to Jim Crow than to justice.
Talbert Swan
