My dad, the incredible Rev. Robert Abrams, is the first feminist I ever knew. He raised his four daughters and two sons to believe in our capacity to do anything – to be anything – we wanted. Gender, like race, were never going to be permanent obstacles for us. The world, he warned us, would not always see us or believe in us, but he did. Even as he labored as a shipyard worker, he imagined great futures for his children, never doubting they’d come to pass.
Dad grew up in Mississippi, in the segregated South, with undiagnosed dyslexia. Unable to read at grade level, he memorized his way through school, determined to learn and defy the odds. Despite being dismissed by his teachers and mocked by his peers, my dad not only finished high school; he became the first man in his family to go to college. Later, at the age of 40, he and my mother entered the Candler School of Theology at Emory University, where they earned their Masters of Divinity.
My dad is committed to uplifting those around him. Over the years, I have watched him practice what he preaches. Service to hundreds of homeless men and women in the soup kitchen at St. Mark United Methodist Church in Midtown. Mentorship for troubled young men and standing up to the powerful despite the odds. Whether through his dedication to the prison ministry or his protests to guarantee a living wage for hourly workers, my father believes in doing right by others. Every day.
A Black man raised me to dream and plan and do – whether that was starting my first business or running for governor. Because of him, I am. And I’ll never do less than he expects.
My dad, the incredible Rev. Robert Abrams, is the first feminist I ever knew. He raised his four daughters and two sons to believe in our capacity to do anything – to be anything – we wanted. Gender, like race, were never going to be permanent obstacles for us. The world, he warned us, would not always see us or believe in us, but he did. Even as he labored as a shipyard worker, he imagined great futures for his children, never doubting they’d come to pass.
Dad grew up in Mississippi, in the segregated South, with undiagnosed dyslexia. Unable to read at grade level, he memorized his way through school, determined to learn and defy the odds. Despite being dismissed by his teachers and mocked by his peers, my dad not only finished high school; he became the first man in his family to go to college. Later, at the age of 40, he and my mother entered the Candler School of Theology at Emory University, where they earned their Masters of Divinity.
My dad is committed to uplifting those around him. Over the years, I have watched him practice what he preaches. Service to hundreds of homeless men and women in the soup kitchen at St. Mark United Methodist Church in Midtown. Mentorship for troubled young men and standing up to the powerful despite the odds. Whether through his dedication to the prison ministry or his protests to guarantee a living wage for hourly workers, my father believes in doing right by others. Every day.
A Black man raised me to dream and plan and do – whether that was starting my first business or running for governor. Because of him, I am. And I’ll never do less than he expects.
My dad, the incredible Rev. Robert Abrams, is the first feminist I ever knew. He raised his four daughters and two sons to believe in our capacity to do anything – to be anything – we wanted. Gender, like race, were never going to be permanent obstacles for us. The world, he warned us, would not always see us or believe in us, but he did. Even as he labored as a shipyard worker, he imagined great futures for his children, never doubting they’d come to pass.
Dad grew up in Mississippi, in the segregated South, with undiagnosed dyslexia. Unable to read at grade level, he memorized his way through school, determined to learn and defy the odds. Despite being dismissed by his teachers and mocked by his peers, my dad not only finished high school; he became the first man in his family to go to college. Later, at the age of 40, he and my mother entered the Candler School of Theology at Emory University, where they earned their Masters of Divinity.
My dad is committed to uplifting those around him. Over the years, I have watched him practice what he preaches. Service to hundreds of homeless men and women in the soup kitchen at St. Mark United Methodist Church in Midtown. Mentorship for troubled young men and standing up to the powerful despite the odds. Whether through his dedication to the prison ministry or his protests to guarantee a living wage for hourly workers, my father believes in doing right by others. Every day.
A Black man raised me to dream and plan and do – whether that was starting my first business or running for governor. Because of him, I am. And I’ll never do less than he expects.
My dad, the incredible Rev. Robert Abrams, is the first feminist I ever knew. He raised his four daughters and two sons to believe in our capacity to do anything – to be anything – we wanted. Gender, like race, were never going to be permanent obstacles for us. The world, he warned us, would not always see us or believe in us, but he did. Even as he labored as a shipyard worker, he imagined great futures for his children, never doubting they’d come to pass.
Dad grew up in Mississippi, in the segregated South, with undiagnosed dyslexia. Unable to read at grade level, he memorized his way through school, determined to learn and defy the odds. Despite being dismissed by his teachers and mocked by his peers, my dad not only finished high school; he became the first man in his family to go to college. Later, at the age of 40, he and my mother entered the Candler School of Theology at Emory University, where they earned their Masters of Divinity.
My dad is committed to uplifting those around him. Over the years, I have watched him practice what he preaches. Service to hundreds of homeless men and women in the soup kitchen at St. Mark United Methodist Church in Midtown. Mentorship for troubled young men and standing up to the powerful despite the odds. Whether through his dedication to the prison ministry or his protests to guarantee a living wage for hourly workers, my father believes in doing right by others. Every day.
A Black man raised me to dream and plan and do – whether that was starting my first business or running for governor. Because of him, I am. And I’ll never do less than he expects.
When my mother was in third grade, she dropped out of her underfunded, segregated elementary school in Mississippi and didn’t plan on returning. Ever. Weeks passed, and soon, she had missed so many days, she was sure she’d be held back a grade level.
Mom considered her academic career over. But Miss Gert, her family’s next-door neighbor, knew my mom was capable of more. And she understood that sometimes, we need others to have faith in us, to invest in us, so we can believe in ourselves.
She urged my mom not to give up, not to be afraid of going back even if she had fallen behind. Eventually, my mom took Miss Gert’s advice and summoned up the courage to go back to school. She expected to repeat third grade. But after she walked into the principal’s office, she learned that when she dropped out, one of her former teachers had written a note: “If Carolyn Hall ever comes back to school, move her on to the next grade. She’s smart enough.”
Mom returned to school and eventually walked across the stage as valedictorian of her high school. A quarter-century later, she watched her daughter walk across the stage as valedictorian of Avondale High School in DeKalb County. My mom was the only one of her seven siblings to finish high school, the first in her family to go to college and grad school, and later on, she served as a United Methodist minister, after she and my dad graduated from divinity school at Emory University.
My mom is a trailblazer. A caregiver. My inspiration. She will always be the reason why I’m committed to serving others, why I will always fight for public education, and why I will never allow anyone to dampen our ambition or lower our vision. Because I have faith — and I believe.
When my mother was in third grade, she dropped out of her underfunded, segregated elementary school in Mississippi and didn’t plan on returning. Ever. Weeks passed, and soon, she had missed so many days, she was sure she’d be held back a grade level.
Mom considered her academic career over. But Miss Gert, her family’s next-door neighbor, knew my mom was capable of more. And she understood that sometimes, we need others to have faith in us, to invest in us, so we can believe in ourselves.
She urged my mom not to give up, not to be afraid of going back even if she had fallen behind. Eventually, my mom took Miss Gert’s advice and summoned up the courage to go back to school. She expected to repeat third grade. But after she walked into the principal’s office, she learned that when she dropped out, one of her former teachers had written a note: “If Carolyn Hall ever comes back to school, move her on to the next grade. She’s smart enough.”
Mom returned to school and eventually walked across the stage as valedictorian of her high school. A quarter-century later, she watched her daughter walk across the stage as valedictorian of Avondale High School in DeKalb County. My mom was the only one of her seven siblings to finish high school, the first in her family to go to college and grad school, and later on, she served as a United Methodist minister, after she and my dad graduated from divinity school at Emory University.
My mom is a trailblazer. A caregiver. My inspiration. She will always be the reason why I’m committed to serving others, why I will always fight for public education, and why I will never allow anyone to dampen our ambition or lower our vision. Because I have faith — and I believe.
When my mother was in third grade, she dropped out of her underfunded, segregated elementary school in Mississippi and didn’t plan on returning. Ever. Weeks passed, and soon, she had missed so many days, she was sure she’d be held back a grade level.
Mom considered her academic career over. But Miss Gert, her family’s next-door neighbor, knew my mom was capable of more. And she understood that sometimes, we need others to have faith in us, to invest in us, so we can believe in ourselves.
She urged my mom not to give up, not to be afraid of going back even if she had fallen behind. Eventually, my mom took Miss Gert’s advice and summoned up the courage to go back to school. She expected to repeat third grade. But after she walked into the principal’s office, she learned that when she dropped out, one of her former teachers had written a note: “If Carolyn Hall ever comes back to school, move her on to the next grade. She’s smart enough.”
Mom returned to school and eventually walked across the stage as valedictorian of her high school. A quarter-century later, she watched her daughter walk across the stage as valedictorian of Avondale High School in DeKalb County. My mom was the only one of her seven siblings to finish high school, the first in her family to go to college and grad school, and later on, she served as a United Methodist minister, after she and my dad graduated from divinity school at Emory University.
My mom is a trailblazer. A caregiver. My inspiration. She will always be the reason why I’m committed to serving others, why I will always fight for public education, and why I will never allow anyone to dampen our ambition or lower our vision. Because I have faith — and I believe.
Thanks, dad ☺️
Early voting starts on October 17. Make a plan to vote today: staceyabrams.com/vote
Grateful that @ciara and @monicadenise have me covered. I had so much fun 🥰
I had a lovely morning spending time with my friend, Senator @corybooker. Thanks for coming to visit and bringing your selfie-taking skill with you to Georgia.
I had a lovely morning spending time with my friend, Senator @corybooker. Thanks for coming to visit and bringing your selfie-taking skill with you to Georgia.
I had a lovely morning spending time with my friend, Senator @corybooker. Thanks for coming to visit and bringing your selfie-taking skill with you to Georgia.
I had a lovely morning spending time with my friend, Senator @corybooker. Thanks for coming to visit and bringing your selfie-taking skill with you to Georgia.
It took a man to break America’s promise. It’s going to take a woman to make it right.
This National Voter Registration Day, it’s more important than ever to fight for our freedom to vote. Take these 4 steps today to beat voter suppression in Georgia:
1️⃣ Check your voter registration.
2️⃣ Register to vote if you have not already done so.
3️⃣ Spread the word with your friends and family.
4️⃣ Make a plan to vote EARLY starting Oct. 17.
Remember that October 11 is the last day to register to vote in Georgia. For more information, visit the link in bio.
Questions about voting? Call the Georgia Voter Protection Hotline at 888-730-5816
My friend Senator @corybooker was in town yesterday and we took a lot of selfies. Atlanta, Georgia
@ciara asked why people should care about midterm elections and governors. Here’s my response:
It was my honor to visit @nbwsmarket today. I am proud of the young Black men and women entrepreneurs who believe in themselves and turn their dreams into reality.
I believe in the politics of expansion and in the surplus of faith. New Black Wall Street represents a blueprint for Georgia where everyone who’s willing to work for their dream can thrive and succeed in our state.
It was my honor to visit @nbwsmarket today. I am proud of the young Black men and women entrepreneurs who believe in themselves and turn their dreams into reality.
I believe in the politics of expansion and in the surplus of faith. New Black Wall Street represents a blueprint for Georgia where everyone who’s willing to work for their dream can thrive and succeed in our state.
It was my honor to visit @nbwsmarket today. I am proud of the young Black men and women entrepreneurs who believe in themselves and turn their dreams into reality.
I believe in the politics of expansion and in the surplus of faith. New Black Wall Street represents a blueprint for Georgia where everyone who’s willing to work for their dream can thrive and succeed in our state.
It was my honor to visit @nbwsmarket today. I am proud of the young Black men and women entrepreneurs who believe in themselves and turn their dreams into reality.
I believe in the politics of expansion and in the surplus of faith. New Black Wall Street represents a blueprint for Georgia where everyone who’s willing to work for their dream can thrive and succeed in our state.
Introducing #PassGeorgianstheMic, episode 1. From Savannah, GA, Ambria tells us her story. Savannah, Georgia
In Georgia, our differences are our superpower. The Latino community is diverse — that means their experiences and priorities in our state are also diverse whether it be through accessible health care or small businesses.
We cannot serve communities we don’t see or refuse to serve. My mission is to fight for all of Georgia so that we get the future we all deserve.
Disability Voting Rights Week: Here’s what you need to know.
