Our Town, Our Fight

One night, my three year old daughter asked me, Mommy, why does it smell so bad? It was overwhelming, like something was burning. I was scared my sinuses would be inflamed and my daughter would get sick. I prayed and went to sleep, but sleep didn't come easy. I feared we might not wake up in the morning.

Five generations of my family have lived in the St James welcome community. It used to be so vibrant during the 1960s my grandfather helped integrate the Paris public schools, going through the struggles of segregation and fighting for voting rights, he welcomed the development of a fertilizer plant in the fifth district. He believed it would create job opportunities for young blacks, a good salary, employer paid health insurance and pension plans.

My great grandparents, Velma and Clara ree Calvi, had passed down 40 acres of land. My parents built our home on the family land in the 1980s and took pride in it. My siblings and I spent hours playing outside and exploring the field. I wanted that for my daughter. Instead, we've had to worry about what's being pumped into the river, soil and air. When I was in college, my whole family got really bad skin rashes. Doctors could not figure out how to get rid of them. We ended up having to put bleach on our skin to kill the rash. It was very painful, but it was the only thing that worked.

Then in 2016 my mom was diagnosed with autoimmune hepatitis. I suffer from debilitating sinus infections and often have to miss work

for years, we didn't know why we were getting sick. Now we do

if my grandfather were still living, he would stand up and fight with us against the pollution.

Shouldn't everyone want a world where all the kids grew up with their basic human rights like clean air and water?