August 6, 2025, marks 60 years since the Voting Rights Act became law.
It arrives not as a quiet anniversary, but as a living reminder. In Detroit, the timing is charged. Local elections are underway. Mayoral candidates are vying for the city’s top seat. For the first time in 12 years, the race will not include an incumbent. Voters could elect Detroit’s first Black woman mayor or bring back a Black male mayor for the first time since 2013.
The weight of this moment sits squarely on the shoulders of a city shaped by political resistance. Detroit has always known what it means to push against the grain, to use the vote as both a right and a responsibility. The 60th anniversary lands inside a civic cycle with real consequences. Residents are navigating campaign pledges, redrawn district lines, and a field of candidates pledging to transform neighborhoods, schools, housing, and safety. These choices carry legacy.
To honor this anniversary, the Detroit Public Library’s Main Branch is hosting a public program on August 6 from 6:00 to 7:30 p.m., featuring Amber Mitchell, Curator of Black History at The Henry Ford. Mitchell will present her work surrounding the Jackson Home, a historic Selma, Alabama residence relocated to The Henry Ford campus in 2024. The home once belonged to Dr. Sullivan and Richie Jean Sherrod Jackson. It served as a critical meeting place for civil rights leaders in the tense days before the Selma to Montgomery marches.
The site will open to the public at Greenfield Village in June 2026.
Reverend Dr. Wendell Anthony, president of the Detroit Branch of the NAACP, talked about the significance of the house during a site dedication ceremony at Greenfield Village last year.
“It’s a house where the freedom movement was discussed and strategized with Dr. King and many of his allies,” Anthony said. “They watched an observed Lyndon Banks Johnson sign into law the Voting Rights Act [of 1965]. It’s a place where Ralph Bunche and Dr. King, two Nobel Laureates…talked about the struggle for freedom.”
This presentation is not a one-day affair. It contributes to a broader reckoning. Detroit is a city shaped by the Civil Rights Movement’s northern heartbeat. From labor strikes to police uprisings, its fight has always lived at the intersection of race, policy, and power. What the Jacksons did in Alabama reflects what many Detroit families have done for decades—turn private space into public action.
Their home carried risk. It also carried strategy. Leaders gathered there to plan, recover, and reframe next steps. That type of quiet leadership often goes unrecognized. What Mitchell’s work makes clear is that spaces like the Jackson Home are more than buildings. They become records of risk, care, and survival.
The Voting Rights Act was signed into law by President Lyndon B. Johnson on August 6, 1965, after years of organizing, marches, and state violence. The Selma to Montgomery campaign drew national outrage, particularly after the televised beatings of peaceful protestors on “Bloody Sunday.” What followed was federal intervention. The law outlawed literacy tests and poll taxes, among other tactics used to disenfranchise Black voters.
Those victories were hard-won. They remain under attack. In recent years, states have passed restrictive laws that reduce early voting, purge voter rolls, and limit access to absentee ballots. Disinformation has grown more sophisticated. Black voters are targeted online, and polling locations are consolidated in neighborhoods where transit access is limited.
Detroit knows these tactics well. Black voters here have long faced structural barriers. Whether through underfunded elections, long lines, or unclear ballot language, obstacles still appear—just with different tools. What remains consistent is the need to show up.
This election cycle holds urgency. City Council seats are on the ballot. Seven members of the Board of Police Commissioners will be chosen. The city clerk’s office is up for a vote. Each of these roles impacts how power moves through Detroit. Each controls pieces of infrastructure that affect everyday life.
The possibility of electing Mary Sheffield, who would become the first Black woman mayor, reflects decades of organizing. Her background in city governance and her current role as City Council President signal a shift. She is not alone in this moment. Pastor Solomon Kinloch Jr., leader of one of the largest churches in Detroit, is also running. His candidacy brings faith, community, and leadership experience into the political arena. Both candidates represent different arms of the same legacy: Detroit’s ongoing relationship with Black leadership.
That legacy traces back to movements that mirror Selma. Detroit was not just influenced by the Civil Rights Movement—it helped build it. The 1963 Detroit Walk to Freedom drew over 125,000 people and featured a major address from Dr. King at Cobo Hall. That address included early passages from what would become the “I Have a Dream” speech. Detroit offered the stage. It also offered the people.
The Jackson Home’s relocation brings a Southern narrative into Detroit’s living archive. Its preservation at The Henry Ford is part of a long-term effort to spotlight homes that housed movement work. Mitchell’s presentation on August 6 will walk through the historical significance of the Jacksons’ choices and how they shaped national policy.
Her research moves beyond timelines. It asks how memory is preserved and who decides what stories are worth saving. In placing the home within Greenfield Village, the institution commits to showing Black history as essential. Not supplemental. Not seasonal. Essential.
The home will open to the public in June 2026. Visitors will be able to walk through the space where decisions about America’s future were made under threat of death. There is something sobering about that. It offers a chance for intergenerational learning. School groups will enter that space. Elders will remember. Parents will teach. Historians will reflect.
The structure itself becomes a new site for political education. That is the power of preservation done with intention. It creates access to stories not always told in textbooks. It introduces young minds to names not yet carved into public memory. It invites reflection and responsibility.
Detroit’s choice to engage this anniversary with both historical education and civic activation is telling. It signals a belief that democracy does not protect itself. It must be practiced, studied, and defended.
Mitchell’s work will also lift up the words of Congressman John Lewis, one of the movement’s fiercest defenders. “The vote is the most powerful nonviolent tool we have,” he once said. Lewis was among those attacked on “Bloody Sunday,” and his legacy runs through every conversation about voting access, civic engagement, and political representation.
August 6 should not pass unnoticed. The 60th anniversary is not merely just a milestone—it is a checkpoint. It asks whether Black political voice is being expanded or restricted. It challenges assumptions that the battles have already been won. It demands vigilance.
The Jackson Home stands as proof that ordinary people made extraordinary decisions. Not for recognition, but for justice. They understood that who you feed, who you shelter, and who you strategize with can change the direction of a nation.
Detroit’s political crossroads reflect that same truth. Every precinct, every district, every ballot is a continuation of the work the Jacksons helped protect. Amber Mitchell’s presentation is part of that continuation. So is every Detroit resident preparing to vote this fall.
Those interested in attending can register for free at Eventbrite by searching The Jackson House: Preservation and the Voting Rights Movement. The program will be held at the Detroit Public Library’s Main Branch auditorium from 6:00 to 7:30 p.m. on August 6.
This anniversary reminds us that laws may change, but the fight remains. The tools evolve, but the aim remains the same—freedom, access, truth. Detroit understands that better than most.
And now, a new generation is being asked to carry the baton. Not by walking across bridges. But by walking into voting booths, community meetings, and classrooms, armed with knowledge, courage, and the memory of what came before.
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