Beth Jacobs' voice mailbox was filled soon after inflammatory comments about American Indians were broadcast over the radio.

The callers were reacting to comments made last month by Bob Dumas, the host of radio station G-105's "Bob and the Showgram." He and co-hosts teased an intern about her pending marriage to a Lumbee Indian and made jokes that played on stereotypes. Among other comments, Dumas said American Indians are lazy.

"Soon as I heard it, I called Beth," said Candace Harke, Jacobs' friend and former law school classmate. "When she's passionate about something, she gets it accomplished."

People turned to Jacobs, a 26-year-old Lumbee Indian. Some of the callers were fellow Lumbees, a group moving slowly toward federal recognition after more than a century of fighting for it. Some of the callers were twice Jacobs' age, and others were her contemporaries.

They wanted to find out her reaction to the comments. And they looked to her for a plan.

Jacobs immediately organized a protest of the radio station. Two weeks ago at the state Capitol, she stood behind a microphone and exhorted protesters, calling for the radio station to stop broadcasting "hate speech."

Friends say Jacobs' deep-seated conviction draws people to her, and it gets results.

"We're going to keep fighting," Jacobs said.

Jacobs grew up as a farm girl, shucking corn, fishing and riding four-wheelers with her family on a 12-acre lot in Robeson County.

Her mother, a longtime secretary, is part of a family with a strong work ethic, she said, and it was understood that she had to work. She volunteered at a day-care center at a Methodist church at an early age. She held a variety of jobs, including makeup artist and waitress, but she always had a way with children.

"Honey, if I had been born with a silver spoon, I would not have been working at [a restaurant]," Jacobs said. "I had to work, so I know what it's like to struggle."

It wasn't until college at UNC-Pembroke that Jacobs focused on helping minorities and disadvantaged children. She then decided to study law, a profession she thought could bring about change.

She received a law degree last year from UNC-Chapel Hill. But cases often crawl through the court system, and Jacobs' sense of urgency may not be suited to practicing law, she admitted.

Instead, Jacobs started a career as an organizer for Democracy North Carolina, a statewide nonpartisan group that conducts research and grass-roots efforts to promote voter registration and fair elections. She created a nonprofit called Brown Babies, which is meant to help disadvantaged children. The group meets with parents to hear their concerns about the quality of education in Robeson County and offers possible solutions. "The only way real significant change will happen in this country is if we start with the children," Jacobs said.

As Jacobs continues to establish herself as an activist, she faces some hurdles.

First, there's the experience factor. She is still unfamiliar to some older, more established organizers and advocates across the state. With her youthful appearance, she says it can be tough to gain respect.

"People are always assuming that I'm very, very young, and I get disrespected on several levels because of that," Jacobs said. "But people get excited about seeing a young person who is not being selfish."

The protest goes on

She clashed with the N.C. Commission of Indian Affairs over the protest. She said the group wanted her to call off the protest after the radio station offered an apology.

"That emboldened me," Jacobs said. "[The commission] encouraged me after they saw that I wouldn't stop."

Jacobs' push to hold the protest could have jeopardized the commission's negotiations with WDCG, said Executive Director Gregory Richardson. The commission "likes to speak with one voice," he said, acting as the formal advocate for the state's American Indians.

"Community people and the commission were demanding that something be done," Richardson said. "It's probably why [Jacobs'] group felt like it should move forward with a rally and not wait for the commission."

The protest of the radio station was her first major effort. It shows she can handle a bigger stage, friends say, and enhances her credibility outside the Triangle and her hometown.

About 30 protesters, mostly young people, attended the protest. She has persuaded well-established organizations, such as the Native American Ministries for United Methodist Church, to support her.

The protest came at a time when the Lumbee tribe has gained momentum in its quest for federal recognition. Last month, the Senate Indian affairs committee approved a bill to give the Lumbees that status, which would give members access to federal benefits for housing, health care and education. The Robeson County tribe, estimated to have about 40,000 members, would not be allowed to operate casinos under the bill. A recognition bill passed the U.S. House last year.

The big picture

Jacobs said the issues go far beyond the radio station flap. In an article she provided to local newspapers, Jacobs wrote:

"The lack of accurate information and positive consideration of minority cultures is not limited to North Carolina. Our children's history books continue to depict us as savages or drunkards. Both the state and federal government have failed to issue any substantive acknowledgement of -- much less apology for -- Native genocide. Bob Dumas and his racially defamatory radio broadcast are the most recent and most public display of the need for significant reconciliation for American Indians in America."

When Jacobs is out of the spotlight, she can be mild-mannered. A Southern accent, down-home charm and youthful looks belie her fiery spirit.

'She breaks the mold'

"At first glance, being that she's a small-framed person, you wouldn't think that there is that much fire and passion about her," said Darlene Jacobs, Jacobs' aunt. "But she breaks the mold."

She combines a youthful exuberance with a deep commitment to serious issues. One minute, she gushes over the latest celebrity romances. The next, she launches a sharp attack against injustice.

Later, in a follow-up e-mail message, she explains: "Throughout this country's history people of color have been publicly abused, and that abuse is very often covered up by the government."

And then she concludes: "Thank you for tolerating my rant. Have a lovely weekend!"

She makes peach cobbler and blueberry crumble for her friends and listens to her girlfriends talk about guy problems.

"She helped me get through law school," Harke said. "There's a lot of different layers to her. She reads US Weekly but also reads Noam Chomsky."

Jacobs wants to use the publicity from the protest to elevate the status of Brown Babies and draw attention to what she calls "hate speech" on the radio.

She has no specific goals for her future as an activist. She only stresses that she wants equal rights for all citizens and wants disadvantaged children to have a fair chance to succeed.

"I feel like I've been given some type of conviction, and I hope I'll be able to take our message and share that with everyone else," Jacobs said. "I'll still be doing something like this in the future. Hopefully, I won't be fighting the same fight 10 years from now."