By Guest writer Guenet Roberts
If you’ve lived in Broward County long enough, the name Hazelle P. Rogers doesn’t need an introduction.
Before the speeches, before the titles, before the historic firsts, she was simply there—at meetings, at community events, advocating for neighbors, showing up when others didn’t. So, when the City of Lauderdale Lakes officially renamed its Multipurpose Center in her honor, many of us didn’t see it as a surprise. We saw it as long overdue.
The Hazelle P. Rogers Multipurpose Center now stands where generations of Broward residents have gathered—seniors, families, youth, immigrants, and longtime homeowners alike. For those of us who have watched Lauderdale Lakes evolve over decades, this moment felt deeply personal.
A Leader Who Grew with the Community
I remember a time when Broward County looked very different. The Caribbean community was growing, but representation was rare. You didn’t often see leaders who looked like us, sounded like us, or understood the cultural nuances that shaped our neighborhoods.
Hazelle Rogers did.
Long before she was elected, she was active working through homeowners’ associations, helping people navigate systems that weren’t built with them in mind, encouraging civic participation at a time when many felt invisible. She didn’t wait for a title to serve.
When she was elected to the Lauderdale Lakes Commission in 1996, it wasn’t just a win for her. It was a shift for the entire community. She became the first person from the English-speaking Caribbean elected to public office in the southeastern United States, and at the time, the only woman on the commission. For many of us watching from the sidelines, it felt like a door had finally been opened.
Service You Could Feel, Not Just Hear About
At the renaming ceremony, speaker after speaker shared stories that sounded familiar to longtime residents.
Commissioner Tysie Caldwell recalled meeting Rogers nearly 40 years ago, back when she was still known as a banker, or as the secretary for the Eastgate Homeowners Association. That part resonated—because many of us remember her before politics, before Tallahassee, before the headlines.
She was present. Approachable. Encouraging.
Caldwell’s words—that nearly every Black person running for office in Broward County has felt Rogers’ influence—rang true. If you’ve been around long enough, you’ve seen it play out. Candidates mentored. Doors opened. Standards set.
This wasn’t leadership from a distance. It was leadership rooted in relationships.
More Than a Building
What struck me most during the ceremony was something Commissioner Easton said: that future generations may not know Mrs. Rogers personally, but they will feel her presence when they walk into the building.
That’s exactly right.
Buildings like this multipurpose center are where Broward life happens. Where seniors gather. Where kids find programs. Where families celebrate milestones. Where cultures meet. To have her name on that space means her values are woven into the everyday life of the city.
For those of us who do know her—or at least know of her—this building now serves as a reminder of what leadership looks like when it’s done with heart, humility, and consistency.
A Legacy We’ve Witnessed in Real Time
Hazelle Rogers went on to serve in the Florida House of Representatives, becoming the first Jamaican elected to that body. She brought Caribbean Heritage Day to the Capitol, giving recognition to communities that had long contributed but rarely been acknowledged.
She later became Mayor of Lauderdale Lakes and continued advocating for economic development, youth enrichment, and community stability. Along the way, she earned honors from Florida and Jamaica alike, including the Order of Distinction from the Jamaican government.
But for longtime Broward residents, her greatest achievement isn’t a title or an award.
It’s the fact that she made service feel possible. Attainable. Expected.
Why This Moment Matters
Renaming the multipurpose center isn’t just about honoring one woman—it’s about telling the truth of our local history.
It says that Broward County was shaped by immigrants. By women. By Caribbean leadership. By people who believed that public service wasn’t about spotlight, but responsibility.
As someone who has watched this county change, grow, and sometimes struggle to find its footing, seeing the name Hazelle P. Rogers placed permanently on a civic cornerstone feels right.
It feels earned.
And for the generations coming up behind us—who will walk into that building without knowing all the history—it leaves a quiet but powerful message:
This is what it looks like to serve your community well.
That’s a legacy worth preserving.
