When I was 13, I came across a quote I thought perfectly described the people of the Deep South: “[those] too dumb to leave and the ones too stuck to move.” By my own teenage account, I am both dumb and stuck these days.
In a rather quick turnaround time, I’ve contributed to the rise in Mississippi’s migration problem, and I’ve combated it. I moved to Mississippi in 2019 for school, but determined to leave the Deep South altogether, ran off to Washington D.C. after graduation to chase a pipe dream. I came back six months later, after missing farmland and parking lots and people who shared my accent.
I spent my first 18 years in the same tiny northwestern Alabama town, but since the day I set foot on my college campus, Mississippi has always been home. Six years and a one-way U-Haul later, I could not imagine myself anywhere else. The life I’ve built here and the people I have met across remind me of the resilience of our state, despite its many efforts to bring about its own demise.
The reality of living in Mississippi is not the same for everyone. For many people here, staying isn’t really a decision they actively make, but rather circumstances they inherit; circumstances shaped by systems and resources that were never equally available in the first place.
A quality life should be built on two promises: good health and economic opportunity.
Mississippi consistently ranks at the bottom of almost every health outcome statistic. This state sits at 50th in the nation for infant mortality and 49th for maternal mortality. In 2025 alone, almost 190,000 years of life were lost in Mississippi from preventable causes. After the highest rate of infant deaths in over a decade, a public health emergency was declared last August. As more lives are lost, access to health care services continues to worsen. Since 2005, five rural hospitals have closed in Mississippi, with over a third of those remaining at risk of doing the same.Â
Our quality of life is shaped just as much by economic opportunity—or the lack thereof—as it is by health outcomes. Mississippi has not increased its minimum wage since 2009, when it was federally mandated to do so. And even though Mississippi has the highest population of Black folks in the country, white men make, on average, 17,000 dollars more than Black men and 20,000 dollars more than black women.Â
In the last six years, I’ve watched so many friends leave this state, and it is not because they dream of conquering the world. Many of them wanted to make a difference here. But they also wanted to lead stable lives with their future families in communities that would cherish them, where health care was accessible regardless of location, and where they and their children would not be immediately discounted because of their race. And every time another friend leaves, I consider the talent Mississippi is forced to do without.
It’s easy to come back and stay when you look like me. I wish I could say the same for all the folks Mississippi has lost who made homes in other, safer states. That easiness is a privilege, I am well aware.
This is where, according to my younger self, I am both dumb and stuck. Because, despite all the reasons to give up on my state, this privilege can be leveraged for good. I believe that one day soon, enough of us will wake up and recognize that we have the power to finally refuse the disparity that exists here and stand beside our neighbors and demand they have access to the same opportunities we get just for existing.
The people of Mississippi deserve the reality of life that is worth choosing, not enduring.
This MFP Voices opinion essay reflects the personal opinion of its author(s). The column does not necessarily represent the views of the Mississippi Free Press, its staff or board members. To submit an opinion for the MFP Voices section, send up to 1,200 words and sources fact-checking the included information to voices@mississippifreepress.org. We welcome a wide variety of viewpoints.
