Councilwoman Gwen Henderson Credit: Photo via City of Tampa

I wanted to share my thoughts on the recently deceased Tampa City Councilwoman Gwendolyn Henderson.

Councilwoman Henderson was raised in Carver City—a Tampa community created in the 1950s for returning African-American veterans. It was built next to a city waste dump—a Tampa microcosm for how our country treated Black veterans. Today, residents of Carver City and Lincoln Gardens have pride in their legacy of military service against the violent Jim Crow wind.

Councilwoman Henderson’s Dad, Asbury Henderson, was a Korean War veteran. He raised his family in Carver City with wife Gladys Henderson. Gladys was born in 1931 in Blakely, Georgia. Councilwoman Henderson told stories about her dad being disrespected in uniform in a newly integrated military. She called her mother Gladys a “forever PTA Block Parent for Carver City.” She came from strong parents.

Councilwoman Henderson was all about her roots. She was proud of Sam Hightower—her great-great-grandfather who was born a slave, emancipated in Georgia at the age of 15 and died in 1932. Mr. Hightower would marry a woman named Mary, who would give birth to Mattie, who would give birth to Gladys, who would give birth to Councilwoman Gwendolyn Henderson.

Councilwoman Henderson once wrote a public letter to Sam Hightower. She wrote about how she not only reads (Mr. Hightower was illiterate and not allowed to read as a slave) but has educated thousands of diverse kids and owns a bookstore on Black History; how she owns land; and how the country he knew still has big challenges on race. She lived a life always thinking of the Sam Hightowers of our world.

Councilwoman Henderson operated Black English bookstore in Tampa Heights—a love letter to ignored Black History in a time of backlash to efforts to confront racial injustice.

I would go and see parents, mostly African-American, introduce their children to Councilwoman Henderson, and buy books for those children on figures like Medgar Evers, Myrlie Evers-Williams, Fannie Lou Hamer and others. I always told people, if you want to see Councilwoman Henderson’s beautiful heart, go to Black English bookstore.

She cared about the Black Tampeno legacy. She valued names—like Robert Saunders, Blanche Armwood, Martin Chambers, Arthenia Joyner, Garland Stewart, Delano Stewart, Francisco Rodriguez and others—that mean so much to the ignored Black Tampeño story.

She was proud. Proud to be a Black woman and of “girl power.” Proud that she was the 16th woman to serve on Tampa City Council—with Councilwoman Lynn Hurtak, who she called “15.”

Proud member of Delta Sigma Theta Sorority, Inc. (an army of Delta ladies in red always had her back). Proud of her roots. Proud public school educator who was always thanked by grateful former students. Proud elected official who represented Gladys and Asbury Henderson’s neighborhood. Proud small business owner with a purpose. Proud Jefferson High School Dragon. Proud woman of the Christian faith.

And trust me, she was hilarious. I sat next to her in Council. She was a hilarious neighbor. I laugh thinking of Councilwoman Henderson stories.

She was blessed to be a mother. I would see her flip through photographs of her daughter on her phone. That is something parents do: We stare at photographs of our kids and consider a love that is hard to put in words. She was overwhelmed by that love.

She was tough and punched back. A woman Councilwoman Henderson loved, Michelle Obama, said: “when they go low, you go high.” When people in politics went low with Councilwoman Henderson, she punched back—hard.

Most realized they picked the wrong fight with the wrong Jefferson Dragon. I saw the insults—the misogyny especially. Social media insults would not faze her too much. She took some of the cheapest shots from the cheapest of all seats. But she did not give a damn—not a solitary damn. She would chuckle and say, “whatever.” To paraphrase Bruce Springsteen in “Growin’ Up,” when she was told to sit down, she stood up. And punched back.

I last saw Councilwoman Henderson on June 3, 2025 at a party she put on for young people attending Historically Black Colleges and Universities (HBCU). She was a proud FAMU Rattler. I told her: Look at all of these young people, you are doing what you were meant to do. She brought a unique voice that night for so many young people excited to attend FAMU, Howard, Spelman, Morehouse, Bethune-Cookman University, etc. It was a celebration uniquely created by a Jefferson Dragon-FAMU Rattler.

That was the last time I saw her. I would text with her while I was in Alabama and Mississippi and tell to her about some of the sites I saw (she and I shared a love of American History). I bought her two books from the National Memorial for Peace and Justice. One was on Reconstruction—another on black veterans like Asbury Henderson. I never got to give them to her.

Councilwoman Gwendolyn Henderson did what she was meant to do as her calling. When she left us, she left on top—as a unique woman who will be remembered and had a beautiful heart.