Jeffrey Hulum III on Loss, Service & Mississippi’s Future

What We Owe Our Children: A Gulf Coast Father’s Reflection on Jeffrey Hulum III’s Story

A conversation about military service, loss, healthcare, and community responsibility made me think about the future we’re building for our children in Mississippi.

There was a moment during CJ’s interview with Mississippi State Representative Jeffrey Hulum III when the conversation stopped being about politics for me.

It became about fatherhood.

Hulum was talking about his military career, his accomplishments, and the sacrifices he’d made over 22 years of service.

Then he talked about his sons.

Both of them.

Both gone.

And he explained that despite his success in the United States Army, he would give it all away to have his boys back.

As a father, I didn’t know what to do with that.

I thought about McRae, my oldest, who’s developing into a talented young man through baseball and photography.

I thought about Jaxon, my youngest, whose love for soccer and other sports has given our family countless opportunities to watch him compete, grow, and discover his gifts.

I thought about school mornings, practices, tournaments, homework, and all the ordinary responsibilities that come with raising children.

The things we sometimes experience as obligations are the very things another father would give anything to experience again.

I cannot imagine what it feels like to bury one child, much less two.

And I don’t pretend to understand what that kind of grief does to a person.

But hearing Hulum tell his story made me think differently about the issues that affect families here on the Mississippi Gulf Coast.

Healthcare.

Education.

Economic opportunity.

Public safety.

The environments our children grow up in.

Because ultimately, these conversations aren’t only about policy.

They’re about whether we’re building a Mississippi where our children can live, learn, grow, and thrive.

Two Fathers. Two Different Experiences. One Mississippi.

Jeffrey Hulum III grew up in West Gulfport.

During our interview, he described a childhood shaped by a mother who worked two jobs, a neighborhood where families struggled financially, and an environment where he witnessed violence at an early age.

He also talked about something that can get lost when we discuss communities experiencing poverty.

Love.

He remembered the people in his neighborhood looking out for one another, even when they didn’t have much.

They didn’t always recognize their circumstances as poverty because they were surrounded by people who cared about them.

That part of his story resonated with me.

I’ve spent much of my adult life working in communities across Mississippi, but the Gulf Coast is where my family lives and where we’re raising our children.

And I’ve learned that you can love a place deeply while recognizing that it has things that need to change.

You can celebrate your community and still demand more from the systems responsible for serving it.

You can appreciate the teachers, coaches, neighbors, and mentors pouring into young people while also recognizing that those individuals cannot solve every problem on their own.

Hulum talked about leaving Gulfport, traveling the world through his military service, and eventually returning to the same community where he grew up.

He said those experiences allowed him to see what government and public institutions could provide when resources were available and systems functioned effectively.

His question became how to bring more of those opportunities home.

That’s a question worth asking regardless of where we stand politically.

What have we seen elsewhere that we should expect for our own communities?

The Cost of Service That We Rarely Discuss

Hulum served in the United States Army for 22 years, including six combat deployments.

During the interview, he described losing both of his sons while serving during deployments to Iraq.

After burying his first son, he returned to Iraq approximately a month later.

Following the death of his second son, he said he returned to his military responsibilities within weeks.

He described the emotional toll of trying to grieve while remaining responsible for soldiers whose lives depended on his leadership.

Eventually, he explained, the military became the place where he directed much of his emotional energy.

“The war became my family,” he said.

He also spoke candidly about how that experience affected his marriage, his emotional availability, and his ability to process grief.

One statement stood out:

“It ain’t about the money. It’s about being there.”

Jefffrey hulum iii

That is a powerful admission from a man who spent much of his adult life serving his country.

And it’s something I think fathers need to hear.

We spend so much time trying to provide.

Trying to build.

Trying to earn.

Trying to create opportunities our parents may not have had.

But our children also need our presence.

They need us to listen.

To show up.

To encourage them.

To be available when things don’t go according to plan.

Hulum’s story reminded me that achievement and sacrifice are not always measured by what appears on a résumé.

Sometimes the most significant things in our lives are the things no amount of professional success can replace.

Healthcare Isn’t an Abstract Political Issue

One of the most revealing parts of the interview came when Hulum explained how losing his second son influenced his views about healthcare.

He described receiving emergency leave from Iraq after learning that his child was seriously ill.

He recalled conversations with medical professionals about the cost and availability of treatment.

And he questioned why access to potentially life-saving healthcare should depend on a person’s professional position or financial circumstances.

That experience became part of his motivation to engage in public policy.

For those of us raising children in Mississippi, healthcare access should be a conversation we take seriously.

When your child is sick, you don’t want to spend your time wondering whether the appropriate specialist is available nearby.

You don’t want to worry about how far you must travel to receive care.

You want to know that the necessary resources exist and that your family can access them.

During the interview, Hulum discussed Mississippi’s longstanding debate over Medicaid expansion and the financial pressures facing hospitals.

He pointed to the consolidation of labor and delivery services from Memorial Hospital in Biloxi to Memorial Hospital in Gulfport.

That change took effect in September 2025, when the health system consolidated obstetric services at its Gulfport hospital.

Mississippi Today reported on the consolidation and the hospital system’s explanation of the decision.

The particular policy solutions deserve careful examination. Healthcare funding, hospital operations, and insurance coverage involve complex decisions, and different policymakers have proposed different approaches.

But the questions affecting families are straightforward.

Can we access quality care?

Can we afford it?

Is it available close enough to home?

And what happens when it isn’t?

As a father, those are not hypothetical concerns.

They are part of the foundation of the future I want for McRae, Jaxon, and every child growing up in Mississippi.

Our Children Deserve More Than Survival

Another theme throughout the conversation was the relationship between a child’s environment and the opportunities available to them.

Hulum described witnessing violence as a child, experiencing a difficult encounter with law enforcement as a young man, and eventually choosing a different direction through military service.

He also explained why he returned to the community where he grew up.

He wanted young people to see someone who came from their neighborhood, experienced some of their challenges, and still found opportunities beyond the circumstances surrounding him.

That speaks directly to something I’ve thought about throughout my years working with young people.

Children need more than warnings about what not to do.

They need examples of what’s possible.

They need mentors.

They need safe spaces.

They need adults who believe in them.

And they need schools that do more than prepare them to pass a test.

As the father of two Black boys attending school and participating in youth sports in Mississippi, I think about the environments they’re navigating all the time.

I want them to be challenged.

I want them to experience different people and perspectives.

I want them to learn to compete, collaborate, and contribute.

But I also want them to feel that they belong.

I want them to know that their abilities, their ideas, and their potential are valuable.

And I want the institutions serving them to recognize those things too.

A child’s ZIP code should not determine the limits of that child’s imagination.

The question is whether we’re willing to invest in the people, institutions, and opportunities that allow young Mississippians to see a future beyond the circumstances of their birth.

What Does It Mean to Be a Good Neighbor?

Hulum also discussed the work of his nonprofit, Extend A Hand, Help A Friend.

He described returning home from military service and recognizing persistent challenges involving food insecurity, neighborhood conditions, and youth violence.

During the COVID-19 pandemic, he said his organization helped feed more than 15,000 people in less than two weeks.

He emphasized that providing food wasn’t simply about delivering a meal.

It was about helping people maintain their dignity.

He recalled families trying everything they could to provide for themselves before needing assistance, and he described efforts to distribute food in ways that allowed neighbors to help one another.

That part of the conversation brought me back to something I’ve been thinking and writing about quite a bit lately.

Community.

Not the word we use on flyers or in mission statements.

The actual practice of being a community.

Showing up.

Sharing resources.

Making introductions.

Helping people when they need it.

Recognizing that another person’s circumstances can affect the well-being of the entire neighborhood.

During the interview, Hulum described a principle from his military experience: service above self.

He also talked about taking what he’d learned abroad and applying it to the communities of South Mississippi.

One of the most interesting parts of his perspective involved what happens after a hurricane.

He observed that when a storm hits, neighbors don’t usually begin by asking about political affiliation.

They help.

They share supplies.

They check on one another.

They respond to immediate needs.

But once the storm has passed, he argued, people often return to the political divisions that separate them.

Living on the Mississippi Gulf Coast, I understand that observation.

We’ve seen how communities can come together during difficult circumstances.

The question is why that spirit of cooperation so often becomes harder to sustain when the emergency isn’t immediate.

Why should it take a hurricane for us to recognize our responsibility to one another?

Why can’t that same commitment extend to our schools, hospitals, neighborhoods, and public institutions?

What if being a good neighbor were something we practiced every day rather than something we remembered only during a disaster?

You Don’t Have to Agree on Everything to Care About the Same Things

Hulum is currently a Mississippi state representative for House District 119 and the Democratic nominee for Mississippi’s 4th Congressional District in the November 3, 2026, election.

The race also includes Republican incumbent Mike Ezell and independent candidate Carl Boyanton.

There are legitimate political and policy differences among the candidates, and voters deserve opportunities to examine those differences alongside the candidates’ records and proposals.

But what interested me most about this particular conversation was the way Hulum connected his personal experiences to his understanding of public responsibility.

At one point, he said:

“You don’t fight people, you fight the issue. You fight the system.”

He was describing a shift from personal frustration toward efforts to change the institutions and circumstances he believes contribute to problems in his community.

That distinction matters.

We can disagree with a person about a policy without forgetting the people affected by the issue.

We can debate healthcare funding without losing sight of the patients who need care.

We can disagree about education policy while recognizing that children deserve meaningful opportunities.

We can debate government spending while taking seriously the families struggling to afford food, housing, and basic necessities.

And we can hold elected officials accountable while acknowledging the importance of service, empathy, and constructive engagement.

None of that requires us to abandon our political convictions.

It requires us to remember the people those convictions are supposed to serve.

What Would Our Children Say About the Mississippi We Built?

Near the end of the interview, Hulum was asked a difficult question.

What would his sons think if they could see him today?

He paused and reflected on the lives he imagined they might have lived.

He talked about college.

Providing a stable home.

Showing them the world.

Giving them opportunities he didn’t have growing up.

And then he said he tries not to spend too much time thinking about what might have been because he still has work in front of him.

That answer stayed with me.

Because as a father, I spend a lot of time thinking about what comes next for McRae and Jaxon.

What schools they’ll attend.

What kind of young men they’ll become.

What opportunities they’ll have.

What they’ll remember about growing up on the Mississippi Gulf Coast.

What they’ll think about the decisions their parents made.

And what kind of Mississippi we’ll leave behind for them.

I want them to inherit a state where opportunity doesn’t require leaving home.

Where their schools are places of possibility.

Where their families can access quality healthcare.

Where they can pursue their interests without being limited by their circumstances.

Where neighbors care about neighbors.

Where the people entrusted with public responsibility understand that their decisions have consequences beyond the next election.

And where our children can grow up believing that their lives and futures matter.

I don’t expect a single elected official, organization, or election to accomplish all of that.

It will require families, educators, businesses, nonprofits, public institutions, and communities working together over time.

But I do think it begins with asking ourselves what we’re willing to do for the people who come after us.

The Work in Front of Us

Jeffrey Hulum III’s story is not one I would ever pretend to fully understand.

His experiences with military service, grief, and community work are his own.

But our conversation gave me an opportunity to reflect on something that reaches beyond his biography or political ambitions.

The responsibility we have to make life better for the next generation.

As a father, I am deeply grateful that I still get to watch my boys grow.

I get to ask about their days.

Watch them compete.

Encourage their interests.

Celebrate their accomplishments.

Help them through disappointment.

And remind them that they are loved.

I know that is a privilege.

And hearing another father describe what he lost made me appreciate it even more.

But appreciation should inspire responsibility.

If we love our children, we should care about the communities they’ll inherit.

If we believe in education, we should care about the schools serving children beyond our own households.

If we value life, we should care about whether families can access healthcare.

And if we believe in loving our neighbors, that commitment ought to show up in how we treat people and how we participate in the institutions affecting their lives.

At one point during the interview, Hulum offered a phrase that summed up the urgency he feels about the challenges facing his home state.

“Mississippi won’t wait.”

Whatever our individual political beliefs, the underlying questions about our children’s futures deserve serious attention.

Because childhood doesn’t wait.

Our children are growing up right now.

They’re sitting in classrooms right now.

They’re developing their understanding of the world right now.

And the decisions being made today will help shape the Mississippi they inherit tomorrow.

The question isn’t simply what kind of future we want for our children. It’s what we’re willing to build for them while we still have the opportunity.

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This article is a personal reflection informed by Black With No Chaser’s interview with Jeffrey Hulum III. It is not an endorsement of a candidate. Readers are encouraged to examine the candidates’ records and policy positions independently.

Meet the Candidates for Mississippi’s 4th Congressional District in the Nov. 3 Elections