My sister, Ebony Parson was affectionately nicknamed “Ebby Faye” by her family and loved ones. She was full of life and her smile lit up the room. She was one of fifteen children--our father was taken by gun violence when Ebony was a baby. Ebony and I would sit up late night singing and we called our music company, “Low Budget Records.” We felt we gave hope to those without because I couldn’t sing!

On Saturday, September 14th, 2013, my sister Ebony was murdered. Her estranged boyfriend was out on bond for kidnapping and beating Ebony just ten days before. He told his family he planned to kill Ebony, then three days later he entered a local Bingo Hall, shot Ebony, and then turned the shotgun on himself. My sister witnessed the entire horrible event. My whole family lives with the lasting trauma every day, as do the twenty people who witnessed Ebony’s death.

After her murder, I founded Ebony’s Hope--an organization that helps Domestic Violence victims and their families with rent, utilities, and education assistance. Ebony’s Hope hosts an annual event where we invite local agencies so that anyone experiencing Intimate Partner Violence can learn about the resources available to victims and survivors. Ebony’s Hope’s mission is that not another man, woman or child should perish without knowing the resources in Horry & Georgetown County.  Even in death, my sister Ebony continues to give hope to those without.

I held my brother close and shivered with fear as I heard the thump, thump, thump of my mother being beaten in the next room. She yelled, but not for help, as she wanted to protect my brother and I from the man with the gun. I was frozen from fright. I think they actually call it the “Freeze Response”, so it’s well named. I could hear my mother yelling, but I couldn’t do anything for her. I couldn’t move. That failure has haunted me my entire life. Of course it wouldn’t have helped for me to rush in there. I would have been like a dog chasing a car. What does a dog do when he catches the car? Nothing. I mean, he was a full grown man, with a gun, no less, and me an eleven year-old-kid. That didn’t stop me from feeling like I had let my mother down when she needed me the most. I felt shame and guilt. Loads of it. And I have felt it for a very long time. 

But, that experience kindled in me a desire to never let anyone in distress down, ever again. I’ve tried to live my life that way. I volunteer. I coach. I teach basketball, guitar and drums. I took care of my brother from that day on. I took care of my father when he needed it. I take care of my neighbors. I do for people. That’s how I live.

That’s what made me decide to run for state office in North Carolina. I work at the Food Bank and help 30 people, but if I were a lawmaker I could help millions. I want to alleviate as much economic and medical suffering as I can for as many people as I can. 

I will do that by getting guns off of the street. I will do that by passing a law that gives young families in need vouchers to help pay for their child care costs. I will fight to pass the ERA. But most of all, I will Expand Medicaid in the state, and bring it into compliance with the ACA with an eye towards Medicare For All. The profit motive must be taken out of people’s health. Healthcare is a human right, not a privilege, and it’s unfortunate we live in a country where that is a controversial statement. I will continue to fight for all of the forgotten, and the silent, and the ones being silenced. I won't let you down.

- James Dawkins