by Gennette Cordova

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As March comes to a close, the deluge of sentiments honoring the illustrious and unflinching women who’ve left their mark on the world around us will soon slow to a drip. So as we pay tribute to those whose names have rang out globally throughout history, let us also uplift the lives and work of the women who’ve impacted our more immediate surroundings.

If you grew up in Seattle’s Central District, the name Carolyn Downs is one you’ve certainly heard, though you may not be familiar with the story behind it. In 1969, the Sidney Miller Free Medical Clinic was founded by the newly formed Seattle Chapter of the Black Panther Party (SCBPP). The free clinic, named for fallen SCBPP member Sidney Miller, provided medical care to Seattle’s Black community, founded on the Panthers’ belief in medical self-sufficiency and their dedication to delivering community-based health care to their people.

In 1964, at age 19, Downs moved to Seattle with her family, and she quickly became a SCBPP organizer who contributed to the Panthers’ free breakfast programs, drove buses for prison visitations, and organized a range of other community empowerment events. After its founding, the Sydney Miller Free Medical Clinic was an SCBPP endeavor that Downs was particularly dedicated to. In addition to supporting the day-to-day functions of the clinic, Downs also garnered community support and funding to sustain the clinic, and she collected data on the medical needs of the Black community and the impact of the lack of doctors and facilities serving the community. 

When the tireless activist and community servant passed away from cancer just a month after her 25th birthday, the SCBPP made the decision to change the name of the facility to the Carolyn Downs Family Medical Center. Of the 13 clinics launched by the Black Panther Party nationwide, known as the Peoples’ Free Medical Clinics, Carolyn Downs is the only one still standing. 

Around the same time that the Carolyn Downs Family Medical Center was opened, Washington State elected its first Black woman to its House of Representatives. Before making history in our State Legislature, Peggy Joan Maxie was a child raised in the Central District whose eventual journey into electoral politics was purely happenstance. When she was a new college graduate, Maxie’s brother, Fred Maxie, began and then abandoned a State Legislature run to instead go to law school. With a college degree under her belt and a bountiful supply of campaign signs with the name “Maxie” on them, Peggy Maxie and her family decided that she should run for office in her brother’s place. 

In 1970, Maxie won a seat in the Washington State House of Representatives, representing the 37th Legislative District, which encompasses the Central District and a portion of South Seattle. While I find it increasingly difficult to uplift representation in electoral politics as inherently worth celebrating, Maxie’s legacy is one worthy of exaltation, distinguished by her commitment to civil rights, her efforts to increase access to education, and her work as the primary sponsor of the House’s 1973 Residential Landlord-Tenant Act. After 12 years in politics, her work centered around mental health and community advocacy. Maxie passed away just last month, but her memory lives on in the impact she had on her community and the state as a whole.

Vocalist Tina Marie Bell was just a young teen growing up in the Central District when Peggy Maxie was elected to represent her district. In many ways, Bell had what would be considered a typical childhood for Black kids in her neighborhood. Like many of us, she got her first on-stage performance experience at Langston Hughes. She sang in the Mount Zion Baptist Church choir, which she credits for developing her vocal range. It was this environment that cultivated the artist who would go on to be the frontwoman of Bam Bam, the early grunge band that Bell formed with her husband, Tommy Martin, in 1983.

Grunge — sometimes referred to as the “Seattle sound” — was heavily centered around Seattle’s underground rock scene and gained mainstream attention with the success of groups like Pearl Jam and Nirvana. And though Bam Bam created music with an early grunge sound, years before the term “grunge” was even coined, Bell and her pioneering contributions to the genre would be relegated to the depths of obscurity for over three decades. For the rest of her life, Bell joined the ranks of countless Black musical innovators, whether in country, house, or rock, whose work has been overlooked and often blatantly written out of the history books. 

Thanks primarily to local writers, Bell’s son, and platforms like KEXP, her legacy is finally on its way to being cemented. In recent years, she’s been labeled “the godmother of grunge,” “the woman who created the sound of grunge,” and “the unsung goddess of grunge.” 

Whether in advocacy, art, or the things in between, don’t let Women’s History Month pass without taking time to remember and applaud the women who’ve added bricks to the foundation of the neighborhoods that nurtured you.

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The South Seattle Emerald is committed to holding space for a variety of viewpoints within our community, with the understanding that differing perspectives do not negate mutual respect amongst community members.

The opinions, beliefs, and viewpoints expressed by the contributors on this website do not necessarily reflect the opinions, beliefs, and viewpoints of the Emerald or official policies of the Emerald.

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Gennette Cordova is a writer, organizer, and social impact manager. She contributes to publications like Teen Vogue and Revolt TV and runs an organization, Lorraine House, which seeks to build and uplift radical communities through art and activism.

📸 Featured Image: Photo of Peggy Joan Maxie from the Washington State Legislature. Photo of Tina Marie Bell courtesy of Michael Patnode. Edits by the Emerald team.

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