As I sat in the studio at WREG with Pastor Keith Norman providing political analysis and commentary on the county primary elections, I found myself particularly interested in one of the many races. Virtually all political races interest me as a bona fide campaign nerd. However, the one I could not help but wonder about was not the county mayor, the sheriff, or the county clerk. It was the fate of my former colleague on the Shelby County Commission, Henri Brooks.
The indefatigable Henri Brooks was running for her fourth term on the county’s legislative body. Brooks served two terms when we served together, sat out as required by term limits, and later ran again. Numerous times in her political career, upstart candidates turned off by her direct, no-nonsense style believed they would be the ones to take her down, yet no one has. They failed this time, too; Brooks received 45% of the vote in a race with 6 candidates. Future opponents would be wise to remember that Brooks won or at least survived many battles in her life, especially battles that involve fighting injustice.
Two months into our tenure on the county commission, we were faced with a resolution to appoint a second judge for Juvenile Court. Democrats, led by Commissioner Deidre Malone, believed that the court treated African American children differently from white children, and there was both quantitative and anecdotal evidence to support this claim. As the only Republican voting with the seven Democrats in support of the resolution (a court later overturned the action, so the second judge was not appointed) I was “rewarded” with the chairmanship of the Ad Hoc Committee on Juvenile Court. Brooks was a member of the committee, but our approaches to the issue were different. While I methodically called parties before the committee, analyzed data, and tried to convince my constituents and the public that the issue was about far more than politics, Brooks blazed her own trail. In short, she collected hundreds if not thousands of pages of information, packaged them in large three-ring binders, convinced her Democratic colleagues to sign a joint letter, and filed a formal complaint with the Department of Justice.
Eventually, the rancor around the issue died down as other issues and controversies arose. The Ad Hoc Committee’s work concluded with a long list of observations and recommendations that we lacked the authority to compel the court to implement. Once it was filed, no one thought much about Brooks’ complaint to the DOJ. Then, in 2012, the DOJ announced a consent decree with Shelby County Juvenile Court as a result of an investigation that began in 2009 and was instigated by Commissioner Brooks’ complaint. The investigation found the court “failed to provide adequate due process, including improper self-incrimination, lack of notice for charges, and disparities in how African American children were treated.” It was also the first time the DOJ had used the Violent Crime Control and Law Enforcement Act of 1994 to address constitutional violations within a juvenile justice system.
After serving with Brooks for 5 years on the County Commission, we developed a good working relationship. Standing in the hallway outside of my commission office, she once told me a story about her mother taking Brooks and her sister to the zoo. This was a time when there was only one day each week that African Americans could attend. Public facilities were segregated, and there was a “colored only” water fountain. Her mother would bring small silver cups carefully wrapped in her purse, fill them at the water fountain while her children sat nearby, and bring them back so they would not have to suffer the indignity of drinking from a labeled fountain that suggested they were inferior.
I had not planned to write about Commissioner Brooks this week. Watching the debate on the House and Senate floors about redistricting in Tennessee, I could clearly see the anguish on the faces of the Black legislators as they fought to preserve the one majority Black congressional district in Tennessee. They were yet again forced to suffer indignity and injustice, and it reminded me of Brooks’ story.
Many today do not remember Brooks’ service as a state representative. At that time, the legislature was controlled by white, conservative, rural, male Democrats. The Pledge of Allegiance was said on the House floor each day of the session, but Brooks, in protest, refused to stand. Like the GOP supermajority of today, the rural Democratic leadership was apoplectic. Brooks didn’t back down despite the many hateful statements, letters to the editor, and opinion pieces. Eventually, a compromise was reached that didn’t require Brooks to stand for the Pledge of Allegiance. She would wait until after the Pledge concluded, then enter the chamber and take her seat. That action cost her votes and relationships that are so critical to accomplishing policy objectives in Nashville. In fact, seven years after she left the legislature, the body refused to vote for an honoring resolution proposed by Representative Larry Miller. Brooks has suffered and persevered.
More than once, I have commented when asked about Henri Brooks— “How was she to serve with” or “What did I think about her?”—that before there was the Tennessee 3, there was Henri Brooks. Never underestimate her.