As the sun rises over the Mississippi River this Martin Luther King Jr. Day, the shadows of the Hernando de Soto Bridge stretch across a city that remains the conscience of a nation. For many, this day is a time for sanitized quotes and “day of service” projects. But for those of us who call Memphis home, breathe the air of South Memphis, and walk the streets where blood was shed for dignity, this day is a mandate.

To understand the future of the American landscape, one must look back to 1968. While the history books often categorize the Memphis Sanitation Workers’ Strike as a labor dispute, those of us in the Environmental Justice Movement know it was our founding moment. It was the first time the world saw, on a grand scale, the deadly intersection of systemic racism, economic exploitation, and environmental hazard.

When Echol Cole and Robert Walker were crushed to death by a malfunctioning garbage compactor on a rainy February day in 1968, their deaths were not mere accidents. They were the inevitable result of a system that viewed Black bodies as extensions of the waste they hauled. The 1,300 Black men who donned the “I Am A Man” placards were not just demanding a living wage; they were demanding the right to a safe environment. They were protesting the “filth” of their working conditions, a toxicity that followed them home to neglected neighborhoods.

When Rev. Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. arrived in Memphis, he didn’t just see a union struggle. He saw the “Poor People’s Campaign” in the flesh. He understood that you cannot have racial justice without economic justice, and you cannot have either if the very air and soil of your community are treated as a dumping ground. Dr. King’s final breath in our city cemented a legacy that connects the civil rights movement to the fight for the earth we inhabit.

Decades later, the term “Environmental Justice” was popularized in Warren County, North Carolina, but its soul was born in the Memphis mud.

Today, that struggle is far from over. We see the echoes of 1968 in the “sacrifice zones” of South Memphis, where industrial corridors hem in Black families, and cancer clusters are spoken of in hushed, tragic tones. We saw it in the attempt to build the Byhalia Connection pipeline, a project that sought to cut through historic Black neighborhoods and threaten our pristine Memphis Sands aquifer. We see it now as xAI illegally operated methane gas turbines for nearly a year with no consequences.

The resistance against that pipeline, led by a new generation of activists like Justin J. Pearson and Memphis Community Against the Pipeline (MCAP), proved that the spirit of the 1,300 is alive and well. We won that fight because we understood what Dr. King taught us: that power concedes nothing without a demand, and that the protection of our natural resources is inextricably linked to the protection of our people. The new fight against the racist “Digital Delta” with the ushering of dirty data centers in the city, is our sign and newest assignment to continue to keep fighting like Dr. King with powerful allies from the Southern Environmental Law Center and NAACP.

However, we cannot rest on the laurels of single victories. As we honor Dr. King today, we must confront the modern-day “compactors” crushing our communities. We face the disproportionate impacts of climate change, the lingering threat of coal ash from the Tennessee Valley Authority (TVA), the toxic plumes from Valero, and the persistent reality that a person’s zip code remains the most accurate predictor of their health and life expectancy.

Environmental justice is the recognition that the right to a clean, healthy environment is a civil right. It is the understanding that we cannot celebrate the “dream” while ignoring the nightmare of lead pipes, toxic emissions, and transit deserts.

A Call to Action

This MLK Day, I call on the citizens of Memphis and the nation to move beyond the symbolic.

First, we must demand that our local and state leaders prioritize environmental justice, ensuring that no new industrial permits are granted without a rigorous cumulative impact study on the surrounding community’s health.

Second, we must support the fight for fair and healthy housing with a push for affordability, more investments in lead hazard reduction & mold remediation, and expansion of weatherization services to lower the energy burden on our most vulnerable neighbors.

Finally, I ask you to look at your own neighborhood. Justice is not a spectator sport. Join a local community garden, attend a city council meeting to protest predatory zoning, or simply educate your neighbor on the history of the 1968 strike.

Dr. King told us that “the arc of the moral universe is long, but it bends toward justice.” In Memphis, we know that the arc doesn’t bend on its own. It bends because we put our hands on it and pull. Today, let us pull together for a city and a world where every person can breathe deep, drink clean, and live with the dignity that Echol Cole and Robert Walker were denied.

The mountaintop is still in sight. Let’s keep climbing.