The Reverend Kimberly E. Dunn
RJGA Member
The Reverend Kimberly E. Dunn is the Associate Rector of the historic Saint Paul’s Church in
Augusta, Georgia. Her expertise in community bridge-building, outreach, and pastoral care in the
Central Savannah River Area (CSRA) is dynamic and impactful. It is this kind of work that enriches
Kimberly’s passion for people and adds to her vocational call as a priest to and in the Episcopal
Church. She is currently serving on the Diocesan Council and is a training facilitator for conflict
transformation for the Diocese of Georgia. She is an active member of Women in Philanthropy and
Alpha Kappa Alpha Sorority Inc., has served on several task forces for racial justice and DEI
(Diversity, Equity, and Inclusion), and is an advocate for mental health. Kimberly serves on the
Board of Trustees for the Augusta Museum of History and the Byllesby Center. She earned both a
BM and MM degrees in Vocal Performance and an MDiv. from Virginia Theological Seminary. She
has been in education for 30 years in both public and private institutions as a university professor.
She was introduced to Augusta with a television appearance on “The Parade of Quartets” with
Karlton Howard, via WLCZ 98.7 FM Worship and Word Station with Michael Cooper, and is
recognized as a Woman To Watch by Dee Griffin WBJF Channel 6 News-Augusta. She is a published
author and editor and is a transformative speaker on various topics that empower, inspire,
motivate, and enrich. Kimberly has two extraordinary sons.
The Reverend Guillermo A. Arboleda
RJGA Member
The Reverend Guillermo A. Arboleda (he/him/él) is the Program Manager for New Church Starts for
the Evangelical Lutheran Church in America (ELCA) Denominational Center. He coordinates with
Lutheran synods (regional bodies) in the USA and the Caribbean as they plan for and launch new
worshiping communities, supports new worshiping communities with grant funding, coaching, and
training, and coordinates with other Christian denominations doing similar work. Guillermo
previously served as the Rector of St. Matthew’s Episcopal Church, Savannah, and the Missioner
for Racial Justice in the Episcopal Diocese of Georgia. His local work in the diocese includes
community organizing, political advocacy, training leaders in anti-racism, and theological research
about criminal justice policy. He has degrees from Messiah University and Duke University Divinity
School. Guillermo is the grandchild of Ecuadorian, Dominican, and Puerto Rican immigrants, and
he is married to the Rev. Kelly Steele, the Rector of St. Peter’s Episcopal Church, Savannah.
The Reverend Guillermo A. Arboleda (he/him/él) is the Program Manager for New Church Starts for
the Evangelical Lutheran Church in America (ELCA) Denominational Center. He coordinates with
Lutheran synods (regional bodies) in the USA and the Caribbean as they plan for and launch new
worshiping communities, supports new worshiping communities with grant funding, coaching, and
training, and coordinates with other Christian denominations doing similar work. Guillermo
previously served as the Rector of St. Matthew’s Episcopal Church, Savannah, and the Missioner
for Racial Justice in the Episcopal Diocese of Georgia. His local work in the diocese includes
community organizing, political advocacy, training leaders in anti-racism, and theological research
about criminal justice policy. He has degrees from Messiah University and Duke University Divinity
School. Guillermo is the grandchild of Ecuadorian, Dominican, and Puerto Rican immigrants, and
he is married to the Rev. Kelly Steele, the Rector of St. Peter’s Episcopal Church, Savannah.
Arthur W. Stewart
RJGA Member
I am a member of Racial Justice Georgia because our work is deeply personal to me. I lived through
the harsh realities of segregation and experienced its injustices firsthand. As a teenager, I worked
on Sea Island at a prominent segregated hotel and restaurant resort. All the cooks, food servers,
wine stewards, and staff were Black. Each evening, after school, we entered through the back door
to begin our shifts. I worked as a “vegetable boy,” serving some of the nation’s most powerful
aristocrats—owners of vast American companies.
During this time, I was also an active member of the NAACP, as were most of my classmates and
friends. Our meetings were held at a local Baptist church, where we organized and strategized for
change. One significant event that stands out in my memory was a moment that could have led to a
devastating race war, just on the brink of the Voting Rights Act in 1965. The NAACP leadership
received credible information that the Ku Klux Klan was planning a march in downtown Brunswick.
News of the impending march spread quickly throughout Glynn County, and people were prepared
to stand their ground, including myself. However, after intense negotiations between the NAACP
President, a State Representative, and the local sheriff, the march was ultimately canceled,
averting what could have been a violent confrontation.
These life experiences have profoundly shaped my outlook and continue to influence my actions to
this day. They remind me that while the institution of slavery may have been abolished, its legacy
endures in the hearts and minds of many. The struggle for true freedom and equality is far from over,
and it is this realization that fuels my commitment to the cause. As a Sociologist once stated, “The
slaveholders may have relinquished their slaveholding cloaks, but the minds of our citizens have
never been freed.”
John Hayes
RJGA Co-Chair
Clara M. Rowsey-Stewart
RJGA Co-Chair
I joined Racial Justice Georgia because it is both my duty and my responsibility. I was born during an
era of segregation, a time that shaped my earliest memories, though I didn’t fully understand its
implications until much later. Some childhood experiences left me deeply confused, only to be
clarified with the passage of time.
One vivid memory has stayed with me since I was about three or four years old. My father, who
passed away when I was four, is at the center of this story. One sweltering summer day in my
hometown, my father drove my grandfather to the county courthouse to pay his land taxes. My older
sister was just a year ahead of me, and I accompanied them. My father parked the car under the
shade of a tree at the back of the courthouse. While my grandfather went inside, we waited in the
car, the heat seemingly endless. Eventually, my sister and I began pestering my father to take us to
the restroom. After our relentless requests, he relented and took us inside.
The courthouse was like a world I had never seen before. As soon as we stepped in, I felt the cool air
hit my face, a relief that was both physical and emotional. The floors gleamed so brightly I could see
my reflection. The entire space was immaculate and mesmerizing. As we walked through, white
women dressed in what we would call church clothes—stockings and high heels—glanced at us
with curious eyes.
When we finally entered the restroom, however, the contrast was staggering. The small bathroom
was filthy. The floor was marred with dried footprints, the toilet ran ceaselessly, and paper littered
the floor. The toilet tissue roll was empty, the sink was wet and dirty, and a grimy cloth towel hung
limply from a dispenser, nearly touching the floor. The stark difference between the pristine
courthouse and this repulsive restroom etched itself into my memory.
Years later, after finishing graduate school, I recounted this story to my mother, as I had many times
before. It was during one of these conversations that she realized I had never understood the full
context of that experience. She explained to me that the bathroom we used that day was
designated for Black people. Her words finally provided the clarity I had been missing all those
years.
That brief, powerful moment in the courthouse left an indelible mark on me. It was then, as young
as I was, that I resolved to one day hold a job like the women working there on that summer day. It
fueled my commitment to racial justice, a commitment I carry forward not only for myself but for
my three little grandchildren and all those who will come after them. This work is for all my people
everywhere.