by Jada Robinson
South Carolina is a place of breathtaking beauty. Tall palmetto trees stretch across the land, Spanish moss drapes down like silver lace, and the history here, a tapestry of time, runs deep enough to fill up libraries. But anyone who truly loves this state, as I do, must be honest. The same soil that nourishes the southern magnolias still carries the weight of centuries of systemic racism. So, when I’m asked, “How can we improve the state of South Carolina?” that’s what comes to mind. Change starts with us, and we cannot improve what we refuse to name.
Systemic racism is not a relic collecting dust on an antique shelf. It’s not a resolved problem; it moves quietly through the present. You see it hiding in school districts where funding relies on property taxes, leaving predominantly Black neighborhoods with outdated textbooks and classrooms that are falling apart. It lurks inside zoning laws that keep affordable housing on the outskirts. These are not unsystematic problems. They are the direct result of policies designed to divide and keep communities separated.
If we want a better South Carolina, we must start where opportunity begins: education. The landmark U.S. Supreme Court case Brown v. Board of Education frames segregation as the cause for educational inequality, leaving funding inequality unchallenged. A Southern Education Foundation report shows that many Black students don’t have access to equal educational opportunities. Additionally, South Carolina has consistently ranked low in education ratings. According to a 2024 U.S. News & World Report, South Carolina ranked 43rd in education, making our state’s education system among the lowest in the nation. We need to focus on equitable school funding measured by student need. That means updating buildings, hiring and keeping experienced teachers, and ensuring that every child has access to advanced classes and modern technology. A student’s future shouldn’t depend on their zip code. What’s equally important is the curriculum.
South Carolina’s history curriculum often glosses over uncomfortable truths such as the realities of slavery, Jim Crow laws, and the decades-long fight for civil rights that have shaped every street in Columbia and Charleston. Teaching honest history isn’t about placing guilt or blame; it’s about clarity. When people understand how laws were built to exclude, they’re better prepared to tackle what remains, ensuring the hard lessons of the past are actively taught.
Policy, though, can only open doors; walking through them is our responsibility. Improvement is not just a matter of lawmakers’ efforts. It’s the work of the community. It’s the courage to stand up to a racist joke at the dinner table, to speak up when a person of color is dismissed, to vote in all elections, both local and statewide, because local policies affect lives more directly. It’s listening when someone shares an experience you haven’t lived through.
I’m writing this as a young Black woman who loves the place I grew up too much to give up on it. I’ve watched my grandma work hard with all of her ability in the same state that once knew the chains of her ancestors, and I’ve seen my father vote in federal and local elections because he believes in a better South Carolina. They, along with countless other South Carolinians, teach me that hope isn’t passive: it’s labor, it’s effort, and it’s resilience.
Our state motto says, “Dum Spiro Spero,” meaning “While I Breathe, I Hope.” Hope is powerful, but hope without action is a whisper. Whispers don’t bring systemic change. We owe each other more than whispers. We owe each other work. Lawmakers can write fair laws for all, but citizens have to live by them. Teachers can tell the truth, but parents must demand it. Doors can open, but we must hold those doors wide for each other. South Carolina has previously shown the courage required. The Catawba tribe, who lived here long before any of us, preserved their language and culture despite impossible odds. Civil rights leaders faced fire hoses and jail cells with open eyes. Common people marched, taught, and voted to make this state better than it was the day before. We should honor them by continuing their work.
The way ahead won’t be simple. Change never is. But I believe that we can build a better South Carolina. While I breathe, I will hope. But more than that, while I breathe, I will act. And I invite every South Carolinian to join me. Because justice, like the beauty of this state, belongs to all of us.
About Jada Robinson, first place winner
Jada Robinson is a junior at South Carolina Connections Academy, where she studies Honors English 3 under Elizabeth Goddard. She lives upstate with her father and twin sister. An honors student, Jada is president of her school’s chapter of the National English Honor Society and secretary of its chapter of the National Honor Society. After graduating from high school, she plans to earn a college degree in English before pursuing law school.