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ATLANTA — The young Jimmy Carter and his peers were wandering through a pasture after a day of toil on the farm during the Great Depression. As they approached a gate, his friends stepped back, allowing Carter to pass through first.
This gesture was not one of simple courtesy or innate respect for a future president. The boys halted because they were Black, while James Earl Carter Jr. was white—a 14-year-old whose father owned the land they toiled on in Georgia.
After years of working and playing together as equals, the silent move made by his friends profoundly impacted Carter.
“We only saw it vaguely then, but we were transformed at the place,” Carter later expressed in a poetry collection following his presidency. “A silent line was drawn between friend and friend, race and race.”
Carter, who passed away on December 29 at the remarkable age of 100, had a life deeply tied to the persistent history of slavery in both America and globally. His journey reflected a complexity within him, frequently pitting his political aspirations against the ideals of his religious beliefs and social values.
As a former governor, president, and humanitarian, Carter ascended the political ranks with careful moderation while utilizing his significant platforms to dismantle racial barriers and further human rights.
“Carter sometimes juggled the line to get into office,” noted Bernice King, daughter of Martin Luther King Jr., assassinated two years prior to Carter’s gubernatorial election. However, she emphasized that he was “truly a friend to the Black community” and, during his tenure, “accomplished things that most Southern officials would not even dare attempt.”
Before embarking on his political journey, both he and his wife Rosalynn faced backlash, labeled “n—– lovers” due to their stances as private citizens. Nevertheless, in the realm of politics, he occasionally found himself associated with racist elements of the Old Confederacy and had to navigate relationships with segregationists like Alabama Governor George Wallace.
“Jimmy Carter had a strong rural south-Georgia accent,” recalled Andrew Young, an aide to King in the 1960s who went on to serve as a congressman and Atlanta’s mayor before becoming Carter’s U.N. ambassador. “When you first heard him speak, you might get the impression he was just another segregationist.”
However, as time passed, Young came to recognize Carter as “an exceptional man” striving to show people how to coexist harmoniously.
Carter’s early years, marked by relationships with Black Georgians, planted the seeds for his future as a Civil Rights advocate. Growing up on his family’s farm in Archery, near Plains, he witnessed his father employing numerous Black families as tenant farmers, and at a young age, he didn’t comprehend the social and legal divisions on the farm.
Carter enjoyed hunting, fishing, and crafting toys with his Black friends, gaining insight into their lives through their close interactions.
His mother presented a counterpoint to his father’s sentiments. A Southern woman who subtly defied Jim Crow laws, “Miss Lillian” served as a precursor to her son’s political journey. She gained a reputation as the white nurse who treated Black patients and would welcome Black women into her home for tea—albeit only when Earl was away.
While attending the U.S. Naval Academy, Carter met Wesley Brown, the institution’s first Black graduate facing prejudice. Mirroring his mother’s example, Carter was quiet in his defense of Brown but forged a public friendship with him as a teammate on the cross-country track team.
As he reached for political heights, Carter faced further confrontations. Upon returning to Plains in 1953 after his father’s death, he resisted joining the White Citizens Council, despite pressure from local businesspeople. Nevertheless, in his role as chairman of the school board, Carter refrained from advocating for school integration, even though both he and Rosalynn believed it was the moral thing to do in private.
During his tenure as a state senator amidst the Civil Rights Movement, Carter remained silent on President Lyndon Johnson’s Civil Rights legislation and did not seek out King, a fellow Georgian.
Running for governor in 1966, Carter branded himself as a racial moderate to counter white supremacist Lester Maddox. However, after a close third-place finish in the primary, he chose not to back the more liberal Democrat whom Maddox ultimately defeated.
“Carter aimed to run again and didn’t want to lose favor with anyone,” stated Bill Baxley, Alabama’s attorney general responsible for prosecuting Klan members following the tragic Birmingham church bombing in 1963.
In the 1970 Democratic gubernatorial primary, essentially the equivalent of winning the general election, Carter critiqued liberal viewpoints and underscored his resistance to federal interventions—a campaign that Young recalls as having racial undertones.
While campaigning for Congress that same year, Young witnessed another side of Carter as they visited Pascal’s, a well-known Atlanta eatery where King and other Civil Rights leaders strategized.
“We were shaking hands with everyone,” Young reminisced. “Carter paused and said, ‘Hold on, you can’t forget anyone.’ Then he walked into the kitchen and greeted every member of the all-Black staff.”
Carter’s strategy paid off; he won the primary election, carrying the same rural areas that had previously supported Maddox.
Upon taking office, Carter surprised both supporters and opponents alike by announcing during his inaugural address that “the time for racial discrimination is over.” He graced the cover of Time magazine as an embodiment of the New South, broadened state government contracts to include Black-owned businesses, appointed Black Georgians to crucial positions, and cultivated a friendship with King’s family.
As he sought the presidency, Carter continued to tread carefully on the political tightrope. After defeating Wallace in Florida’s pivotal primary, he visited the former segregationist for an endorsement. He later ignited controversy with remarks that seemed to lend legitimacy to whites-only neighborhoods, necessitating an apology.
In contrast, he also made history by selecting Texas Rep. Barbara Jordan as the first Black woman to deliver a keynote address at a major party convention—a moment made even more special as King Sr. provided the benediction.
“I was still in high school when I watched Barbara Jordan on television,” stated Donna Brazile, who would later become the first Black woman to manage a U.S. presidential campaign. “I owe much of that moment to Jimmy Carter.”
Once in the Oval Office, Carter appointed more women and nonwhite individuals to senior government roles than all previous presidents combined, notably selecting federal judges. He advocated for official observance of King’s birthday, increased funding for historically Black colleges, and championed equitable housing and banking policies.
Carter applied the philosophies and rhetoric of the Civil Rights Movement to international diplomacy, elevating human rights issues in foreign policy discussions. Through the Carter Center, after his presidency, he and his wife dedicated their efforts to advocacy for democracy and public health in developing countries, most of which had predominantly nonwhite populations.
Until his final days, Carter retained an awareness of racial issues. In 2024, while frail and over a year into hospice care, he expressed a desire to keep fighting for life, wanting to be able to vote for Kamala Harris—who made history as the first Black woman and person of South Asian heritage to be a major party presidential nominee.
Though Harris did not win, her vice presidential role allowed her to honor Carter during his memorial service in Washington.
“Sometimes it feels as though we’re regressing,” remarked Angela Cooper, a 59-year-old Black woman from Duluth, Georgia, after paying her respects to Carter’s flag-draped casket in Atlanta. “Yet, President Carter exemplified that one individual can effect change simply by saying, ‘Enough.’”
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