It was a pleasant afternoon in the Bankhead neighborhood of Atlanta. The sun blanketed the sky, and the sound of construction from a new housing development filled the air.
As Jai Ferrell walked with her mother across from Lindsay Street Baptist Church, they laughed and joked, their chemistry as natural as LeBron and Wade in the Finals.
Suddenly, a little girl paused while walking with her school group. She glanced up at Jai, shy but earnest. “You’re so pretty,” she said. Jai blushed and replied softly, “Awww, thank you.” The girl’s eyes sparkled, and her red polo glowed in the sunlight as she ran to catch up with her class.
For Jai, the moment was déjà vu. She had once walked these same sidewalks with her mother, orange soda in one hand, Funyuns in the other, headed to Lindsay Street Baptist Church. Today, her name is recognized across social spaces, from the inner-city communities of Atlanta to globally recognized C-suite offices.
Before she would manage over $1.5 billion in revenue for the world’s busiest airport or break barriers as the first woman of color elected CEO of Girl Scouts of Greater Atlanta, she was simply Mookie—her childhood nickname. A little girl living on Columbia Drive, riding MARTA Bus 86 with her mother between school and work. Before she sparked a light in girls across the country, she first learned it from the woman who raised her. Ferrell’s story shows the power of a village and the unpredictability of life, both its highs and lows, but seeing through in the end.
The Foundation
On June 6, 1983, at Grady Hospital, Lolita Ferrell gave birth to her first and only child, J’Aimeka “Jai” Ferrell. The pregnancy had been unexpected for the teenage mother.
Lolita, a standout three-sport athlete at Southwest DeKalb High, didn’t realize she was pregnant until her ankles began to swell during basketball practice.
“At 16, I felt embarrassed, overwhelmed, and shocked—being 16 years old and pregnant,” she recalled.
Still, she pushed forward, finishing her junior season and graduating on time, determined to lay a solid foundation for her daughter’s future. From an early age, Jai’s charisma drew people in, her mother remembered.
“Jai was a unicorn… I knew she was going to be special. Raising Jai was a village effort,” Lolita said, crediting both her mother and herself with instilling life and love into Jai. “I never felt like we struggled. I always had a room, a car when my friends got theirs—but now I understand the work it took to make that happen.”
While working multiple jobs, Lolita led by example.
“My mother was my first Girl Scout troop leader,” Jai said of her first troop meetings, which were held at Lindsay Street Baptist Church. Those early leadership lessons laid the blueprint for Jai’s future success.
Hoop Dreams
As Jai got older, her mother’s athletic genes began to kick in, too.
“As a child, I could go out and play with the baddest of the boys. I was rough,” Jai said. “I was exposed to volleyball and golf in fourth and fifth grade.”
But basketball was her true passion.
“Basketball was my main sport. I tried track, but I don’t like running,” she laughed. “Then I got into basketball and realized I had to run anyway for conditioning.”
Standing six feet tall in high school, Jai played the power forward position on the same court her mother had played at Southwest DeKalb. Even her jersey number echoed her mom’s legacy.
“My mom wore number 20 in high school, so I wanted to wear it so badly,” she said. We actually had some of the same coaches, like Coach Dawson,” Jai recalled. “When he saw me in high school, he walked me and my mom over and said, ‘That’s the baby you had, huh? It was so weird.”
Basketball served as the glue that connected Jai’s village.
“Basketball was a focal point in our relationship—my mom’s, Jai’s, and mine,” said Lolita. Both her mother and grandmother were courtside at most of Jai’s high school and AAU games. Her grandmother even ran concessions at her high school games, earning the nickname “Grandma” from the team.
As a standout on the court, Jai received offers from several NCAA Division I programs.
“I was really good at basketball, so I had a scholarship to the University of Georgia. I also had offers from Furman, Florida International, and UAB.”
By her senior year, however, she knew she didn’t want to play basketball past high school.
“I knew I wasn’t playing basketball anymore. I tell you, the scene where Monica from Love and Basketball was running at four o’clock in the morning—that did it for me,” she said jokingly.
In all seriousness, her certainty was largely influenced by the historic all-female school in the Atlanta University Center—a place she says changed her life.
Grandma’s Vision
“I remember growing up with my grandmother on English Avenue. Spelman was the school you wanted to be at,” Jai said.
From as early as she can remember, her mother and grandmother had envisioned her becoming a Spelman woman. When they passed the college on the way to church, they’d say, ‘There go your friends. That’s where y’all are going to the Morehouse games,’” Jai recalled.
By her senior year of high school, Jai’s choice of Spelman was her own, but it aligned with that vision. She remembered attending a program where she got to experience the day in the life of a Spelman student.
“That’s when I knew it was my school,” she said.
The honors student and Division I-scouted athlete applied to only one college, confident in her choice. “I had a poster that said, ‘Let her first step towards Spelman.’ I just knew it,” she reflected.
When she finally set foot on campus, Jai said it was enlightening. She was exposed to histories and social constructs about her Black identity through poets and writers like Sarah Bartman and Amiri Baraka.
But it was also humbling. “That was my first time really having to put forth effort. And I think that did me good,” she said.
Originally, Jai aspired to be a screenwriter and producer for television—a contrast to her current career. But everything changed after meeting a professor, Paul Thomason.
“I’ve been teaching for about 45 years on the college level,” said Thomason. “She was one of those students who really stuck out to me… I knew she was going to go far.”
“We used to call him Mr. T. He’s probably one of the most brilliant men I know,” Jai added.
Under his tutelage, Jai learned theatrical production, but the lessons extended beyond the stage. He taught her to use all her gifts and not limit herself to one aspect of theater. Taking Mr. T’s advice, Jai began using her interpersonal skills to market plays at Spelman and Morehouse, creating press releases and fliers to promote the theater department—an experience that would benefit her later.
After graduating from Spelman in 2005, Jai began working for Turner Broadcasting, initially in image branding with names like Anderson Cooper and Hank Aaron. She eventually became Marketing Manager at Turner Broadcasting. For Jai, it was full circle—she remembered going with her mother to Turner Field in middle school, and now she held a respected role for the same company.
The Unexpected
While working for Turner, she spearheaded and implemented new programs such as “Kids Run the Bases” at Braves games, a pregame DJ for fan experiences, and coverage of major events like Hurricane Katrina.
Everything changed in the fall of 2013.
“I was laid off. I remember it was two days before Halloween,” said Jai. “I was depressed. I was sad. I didn’t have a job, and I always had a job. Like, what was going on?”
It was a rough period. She went from being recognized as a success story—working for a major company with awards and recognition, her own office, and a “cool” job—to having all of it taken away, Jai explained.
“She started traveling on a dark road. We never thought something so traumatic would happen to her because she was always a winner,” said Jai’s mother.
Jai picked up odd marketing gigs, charging just enough to cover her car note and rent. Still, the money wasn’t enough. With her car close to repossession and struggling to pay rent, she found herself in unfamiliar territory.
“I was sitting in the parking lot of the labor and job office. I was at the unemployment office, and I was there with my nice BMW X5, featuring a Spelman sticker on the back and a tassel from my graduation. And all I kept saying was, ‘God, how did I get here?”
She went from spending frivolously on an upscale apartment and weekly dinners out, living off a six-figure salary, to surviving on $330 a week. At one point, she even considered moving back home.
At that time, her mother had just started working for the City of Atlanta. One day, while browsing the city’s job portal, she found two postings: Director of Aviation (DOA), Marketing Manager, and DOA Director of Marketing.
“I told Jai that she should apply,” her mother said.
“I don’t know anything about airports, like, I can’t do this job,” Jai remembered telling her,
In June 2015, Jai stepped into the role of Marketing Manager at Hartsfield-Jackson Airport—and, as her mother put it, “the rest was herstory.”
New Heights
At Hartsfield-Jackson, Jai rose from Marketing Manager to Chief Revenue Officer at just 32, managing a $1.5 billion budget and technological innovation for a space with over 100 million annual visitors. She navigated the COVID pandemic, Ebola, and Zika under three mayors.
“So that was my first time really understanding how to juggle so many things at once,” she said. Her tenure gave her opportunities to be in rooms she never imagined, travel the world with her mother, and cultivate her identity.
However, the role came with challenges. In many rooms and meetings, Jai was often the only Black woman present. Though that was an accomplishment, history shows that such responsibilities have too often been weighed down by constant misogynoir.
“And because I’m so dedicated to my people, a lot of times I would show up because I’m showing up for them… even though I’m probably being persecuted, I’m being attacked for all kinds of things,” said Jai.
To the public, Jai seemed unshakable, fearless, and unfazed. But in reality… she was not okay.
“A lot of times, you can do something to the point where you have now self-destruction… You start realizing I don’t even recognize myself anymore.”
During a routine doctor’s visit to address constant headaches—something she thought came with age—the doctor told her, “Whatever level of stress you have, you need to eliminate it now.”
“I was like, ‘But I feel fine,’” she recalled. “He said, ‘Most Black women do until they die.’ And that’s when I knew.”
Before the age of 40, Jai was living a life many would wish for. Yet her health was failing: her heart overworked, her blood pressure elevated. It was simply too much.
With no job offer lined up and no clear next step, she made a decision. In April of 2024, after nearly a decade at Hartsfield-Jackson, Jai resigned.
She had realized the cost of her health wasn’t worth any career.
Jai Chi Era
A call came from Ebbie Parsons, cofounder of Diversified Search Group and Yardstick Management. The company’s mission was to place more women of color in senior leadership roles. He told Jai about a potential opening with “a local nonprofit,” without naming the organization.
At first, Jai didn’t think much of it, but she expressed interest. Weeks later, while sitting with her mother, she received a call inviting her to a panel interview. “And that was like God telling me,” Jai said.
Weeks after doing the panel interview, she received a call from Girl Scouts of America.
In June 2024, Jai Ferrell was appointed the first woman of color to serve as the Chief Executive Officer of Girl Scouts Greater Atlanta, which has been in existence for over 100 years.
“Everywhere we’re turning, we’re told that we’re not good enough, that we don’t belong, that this wasn’t for us, when, in fact, our ancestors’ tears and sweat are how this even came to be,” she said.
Despite the recognition, Jai remains grounded. Her daily playlist still includes Jeezy and Sounds of Blackness. Beneath the titles and accolades, the little girl from Atlanta, Mookie, still lives within her.
“I make sure that I take my village with me in those rooms, because I am here because of the totality of everything,” she said.