The Legacy of MLK: Why Cori Bush’s message matters in Long Beach

Jackie Rae goes one-on-one with Cori Bush

On Saturday, the community grassroots organization LB BLACC (Long Beach Black Advocacy Community Coalition) held its first annual Dream Forward: A Long Beach Black Community Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. Celebration. The event centered Black voices, history, pride, and artistry.

The event also featured keynote speaker, former Congresswoman and long-time activist Cori Bush, who brought with her a message that felt both familiar and urgently necessary. For many, Bush is a national figure whose political identity was forged on the frontlines of Ferguson after the killing of Michael Brown. But during a one-on-one interview with JackieRaeTV, she made it clear that her story starts long before that moment — shaped by a childhood spent at marches, boycotts, and community meetings her father insisted she attend.

“I remember being pissed off as a kid,” she said. “I would say to my dad, we’re not changing anything… but I didn’t understand.” Those early lessons — about presence, persistence, and courage — didn’t make sense until years later, as she stood among the protesters in Ferguson facing down a militarized police force. It was in that moment she realized the disconnect between political power and community needs.

“The person in the seat right now could have voted to demilitarize the police and he didn’t,” Bush said. “And now we’re getting our butts kicked by that same militarized force.” That clarity pushed her from activism into politics, but she hasn’t abandoned the principles that brought her into the streets. Bush believes the same systems that failed her community then are still failing young people now — and the consequences show in their widening distrust of political leadership.

Bush didn’t sugarcoat the issue: young people aren’t just apathetic; many are disillusioned by leaders who preach values publicly yet act differently when it matters. “We cannot be silent while they’re being hypocrites,” she said. “We wanted statues knocked down because we said we don’t want our children to look at that and think this is right… but then we have people on our own team who are complicit or participating because they’re being silent.”

For Bush, accountability isn’t optional — it’s the foundation of trust. But she insists the work doesn’t stop at criticizing broken systems; it’s also about elevating new leaders from the very communities politicians claim to serve. “When they see hypocrites… when they don’t see us being who we say, even in the small things — they see that stuff,” she said. Her solution is straightforward: bring them in, set a strong example, equip them, and believe in them the same way someone once believed in her.

Bush also opened up about the struggles that shaped her — homelessness, abuse, hunger, and violence — all experiences she says make her fundamentally different from politicians who only speak about such issues from a distance. “I’ve been through so many of the things that people in our communities have gone through,” she said. “I don’t want that for anybody else.” Those experiences form the backbone of her politics.

They’re also why she refuses corporate PAC money, why she speaks out even when it isolates her, and why she doesn’t hesitate to challenge anyone — from the president to the postal clerk — if she believes their actions harm her community. “I am no respecter of persons,” she said. “If you’re damaging my community, then you get to hear from me.”

For Bush, the work is not about the title, the position, or the optics. It is about service — a word she returned to again and again. “You take this activism and you turn that into political power… because if we don’t step up, then why are we looking for other people to do it?”

On a day meant to honor Dr. King, her message landed like both a warning and a reminder: progress doesn’t happen because the powerful decide to be brave. It happens because everyday people — nurses, unhoused mothers, youth leaders, essential workers — choose to step forward and demand more.

And for Cori Bush, that call is still ringing. “It’s all about service,” she said. “If I could stop one from falling into what I fell into… then my work meant something.” In a city where many have questioned whether Black leadership is doing enough, her challenge to “step up” echoes a conversation Long Beach can no longer afford to avoid.