T.J. Hardaway is his father’s son.
That much was clear in the way he accepted responsibility without much hesitation, stepping into the Tennessee House seat held by his father, the late Rep. G.A. Hardaway. It was clear in the way he talked about Memphis, public service, political leverage and the obligation to participate. It was clear, too, in the way he understood the weight of the moment — not just for his family, but for the community his father served.
But T.J. Hardaway is not his father.
And in a wide-ranging interview with the Tri-State Defender, the newly appointed state representative was just as clear about that.
At 32, Hardaway speaks as someone shaped by his father’s politics, but also by a different set of experiences: a broader exposure to people and cultures; an interdisciplinary education rooted in anthropology, art and athletics; years in sports, including football, rugby and Olympic weightlifting; and a personal philosophy that seems to blend observation, strategy, creativity and contact.
He describes himself, at his core, as an artist. He also thinks like an anthropologist. And when he reaches for a political metaphor, he is just as likely to reach for rugby — a sport most people think of as brutal, but one Hardaway remembers as a vehicle for exposure, discipline and understanding people.
In other words, the son of G.A. Hardaway, who died April 24, 2026, has inherited the seat. But he is beginning to define the voice.
The following interview has been lightly edited for clarity and length.
TSD: Just a few weeks ago (late April 2026), life was very different for you. Life was very different for Memphis. This time last month, your father was alive. And you’ve gone from mourning to being sworn in to speaking on the floor of the State Capitol — all within about two weeks. When have you been able to catch your breath?
T.J. Hardaway: You know how you can watch a crowd and notice that things are starting to change? You feel a change in the air, or you just get a bad feeling in your gut? I remember kind of feeling that way (in April). I remember feeling like I should call home for a couple days before I got the phone call that I needed to come to Nashville as soon as possible to see my dad.
After he passed, it was almost like we all crossed over some type of threshold where things just started moving so fast. There’s a flow state whenever you’re an artist or whenever you’re an athlete where things slow down, but you know that it’s all just a moment.
That’s kind of how it felt. It felt like things had been going on for so long, like everything was happening for so long. Then you look up and it’s only been a couple days.
TSD: You went immediately from mourning — or at least beginning that process — into public service, in the very seat your father held. How surreal was that?
Hardaway: Absolutely surreal.
The way we were brought up was very much “take on responsibility without hesitation.” There was that same unsettling feeling that things were happening so fast that it felt wrong to let it happen without participating, if that makes sense.
Because the appointment was so quick, it felt like if this went unchecked, it wouldn’t be in the best interest of the family somehow if someone else occupied that space. At the same time, it was an opportunity to do right by my father. An opportunity to keep a memory alive.
We come from a big family, and we know what happens after someone is buried. People eventually stop talking about them. People eventually only reminisce, and that lasts for maybe a month before this person is completely forgotten. I personally didn’t want that to happen.
I feel like my dad had invested too much into the community. It could not have happened any other way than for one of us to (step up) and do the same thing.
TSD: Describe that moment when you stood up on the House floor for the first time to speak — indeed from the very same seat your father did.
Hardaway: I’m not actually a hesitant public speaker. But, in that moment, I was really kind of drawing a blank, to be honest with you.
“Should I say what I would say, or should I say what my dad would say?”
Because I’m here on his behalf. That day specifically was in commemoration of him and his opposition to the redistricting bill. It was difficult to find words to portray that properly.
But at the same time, it was obvious that you’re in a professional environment. You’re in an opportunity to learn, and you’re supposed to take it as an opportunity to learn, regardless of any preparation or opposition that you have.
So: Make it short, get to the point and then professionally exit before you head downhill. Make your point, then exit early. (laughs)
TSD: You are G.A. Hardaway’s son. But you also have your own mind, your own thoughts and your own opinions. How would you distinguish the service of T.J. Hardaway from G.A. Hardaway in that seat?
Hardaway: That’s probably going to be a huge topic within the next few months. My dad had certain experiences that molded his subconscious. A lot of that came from his peak moments within his teen years and early development in the 1960s.
I think I have a more global and more anthropological perspective on things. There’s more intricacy that I see in everything. And I think there’s context to every conversation that I have. I look for the context in the information people are giving me.
(My siblings and I) got a lot of hands-on experience, more exposure. The traveling that we did, the diversity of people we interacted with, the type of conversations we had — and the fact that we didn’t spend a lot of time with people our own age.
Our dad had a very tight-knit community with people he grew up with, whereas specifically my brother and I, our friends were his friends. So we associated mostly with people in their 50s and up, besides our cousins, who were all significantly older than us until pretty much this point in life.
TSD: I have to imagine you and your father had some pretty fascinating debates about policy — or just life.
Hardaway: Man, if you could be in the room, particularly last year. My dad came from a very intense local experience, whereas I had a much more global exposure — or even nationwide to global exposure.
So if my dad got a phone call, it was usually about an individual issue, and he was going to try to sort out that individual person’s issue.
My perspective on things has been more systematic. I understand that there’s a system in place — or a system that’s not in place — that is causing a chain reaction of events to happen.
I see why my dad made the choices he did about how to help his constituents. But it’s one method to individually address issues within a community in order to rally people to participate in the community. It’s another thing to notice that the community is not being serviced with certain systems that could have long-lasting effects and change the way people are actually treated or operate in government.
That’s basically how we would talk. He would say, “You have to make sure you’re fixing these little problems from person to person.” And I’d come around and say, “Well, that’s not long term. That’s a short-term fix. You’re fixing symptoms without curing the disease. You’re fixing symptoms without looking forward to prevention.
“What are the preventative measures so you don’t even have to come up with the medicine to treat the condition?”
Those debates were pretty frequent.
TSD: What did you study? Tell me a little about your educational background.
Hardaway: I went to the University of Memphis, and I did interdisciplinary studies in the liberal arts. That was a culmination of anthropology, studio art and some athletics.
But probably the most influential education that plays a big role in how I see the world, or the conversations I have, or the terminology that I use, comes from being in sports so heavy — because I played three sports at Memphis, and just that level of exposure.
TSD: What did you play?
Hardaway: Football, rugby and Olympic weightlifting.
TSD: That’s quite a combination.
Hardaway: Oh yeah. It’s like being in the fire 24/7. It was an experience for sure. I’m not afraid of blood. Blood does not make me squeamish.
TSD: You’re an anthropologist, a rugby player and a weightlifter. How do those sides of you show up in your legislative philosophy?
Hardaway: One of my coaches made a point to say that if you’re going to take responsibility for something, if you’re going to do something, then you have to take ownership of it.
I think that plays a big role in policy. If you want something to pass, then you have to approach it as if this is a community issue that starts here, but inevitably trickles down to everyone.
Some people are going to respond a certain way, so you have to be able to roll with the punches and you can’t be afraid of conflict.
TSD: I think rugby and I think, “tough.” Like REAL tough. Football without pads tough.
Hardaway: In rugby, there’s this concept that you don’t meet force with force.
I had a coach in rugby who would say — and everybody knows rugby is violent, no pads, you can get cut real easy, fractured knuckles, your fingers never look the same after you play rugby long enough — but he would say, “If you are playing this sport looking for contact, you will not make it far.”
He said your mindset should be that rugby is not a contact sport. You don’t have to seek out contact; getting hit is inevitable.
It didn’t resonate with me until I got hit so much that I had to switch positions because I didn’t understand that the contact is inevitable.
I think that translates to a lot of things we do in life. You’re going to get hit regardless. Somebody is going to hit you. You cannot step into life and think you are completely elusive to contact.
But if you play the game without seeking contact, then you’ll get more yards. You’re always prepared for the contact, but don’t seek it. Build up your armor. Go to the gym. Do your pushups. Make sure you’re ready so that if somebody hits you, they regret it.
But getting hit is inevitable.
You don’t have to seek it out. It’s already looking for you.
TSD: If you had to name your legislative priorities going forward, what would they be?
Hardaway: I’m thoroughly aware that we’re currently in an age where technology is an equity tool. So finding ways to implement technology into the school system, into transportation, infrastructure and government — there’s too much advancement happening in connection with people’s ignorance to the opportunities it could provide.
I think agency and giving people a sense of autonomy is vital right now.
Of course, the buzzword for AI is all over that statement. But even autonomous driving and putting people in a position to do research into cybersecurity — the job market has changed. It’s turned into every person being able to be their own entrepreneur.
My community specifically lacks the ability to pay attention to those topics, or lacks the avenue for the information that’s available. So these things have to be planted.
TSD: In terms of where we are now in this redistricting fight, what do you see as the fight forward? What do Memphis voters need to be doing?
Hardaway: The one thing for sure is registering to vote.
I think a lot of people have lost faith in the system because they don’t understand how this happened. We have to create more transparency on voter turnout, which is atrocious. The amount of people registered is atrocious. The amount of people who actually vote is atrocious.
The truth is, if Memphis pulled up full throttle, Memphis and Shelby County could shift the entire state of Tennessee. That’s a big part of why Memphis was a bullseye. They know the amount of influence and volume that Memphis hasn’t participated in.
Then we have to act on the local level. The local level should be (the) priority now because our participation federally is so dwindled that we can’t just keep looking up. I approach everything as an athlete. If you can get the upper hand on the other team, that’s priority No. 1.
TSD: Anything we haven’t covered that you want to make sure people understand?
Hardaway: Fundamentally, I’m an artist. I think that was something my dad cultivated at a young age. I attended Memphis College of Art when I was just in junior high. I took some classes, and he was so adamant that I take advantage of those experiences.
If people were to call me anything, they would call me an artist at my core.
Drawing, painting, sculpting, writing — I think reading is an artistic skill. Reading is something you participate in.
So on behalf of my dad, between the anthropology and the sports and the mathematics or data science, anything that I’m interested in, that rearing was important to him.
So I want that to be important to how people understand where I’m coming from.
TSD: Before I let you go, people are going to keep asking about the future. Do you hope to keep the seat in the General Assembly? Those are big shoes to fill.
Hardaway: It’s funny that this keeps coming up, as far as the shoes are concerned.
Me and my dad actually wear the same size. So if that’s an innuendo to the future, take that how you will.
