Where We Go From Here
For millions of Americans, election night started with hope — hope that this time, America would be different, that we would make history. But hope soon gave way to a sinking feeling of déjà vu. America had failed its test again.
For many Black women and girls, there was a moment of excitement, thinking someone who looked like them would finally be seen. That this country would finally love them back. But it never happened. The looks on my mother and aunt’s faces showed how deeply they felt rejected.
Sadly, I didn’t believe America had learned its lesson. Racism and sexism were too strong to assume this would be easy or that she was even the favorite. Having worked in politics, I knew history shows how white voters, especially infrequent ones, react when marginalized groups make progress. Leading up to election night, I feared the Democratic Party, media, and voters had misread the nation’s pulse. You could sense a potential “whitelash” against the Black woman, and for millions, the threat of a dictatorship wasn’t enough to push them to vote. When Trump started hitting his county benchmarks early, I knew what time it was.
Now we’re in a world where Trumpism reigns. Millions believe being ruthless is the way forward, and with Trump likely controlling the Presidency, the Supreme Court, the Senate, and possibly the House, the consequences are clear: deportations, more restrictions on women’s rights, police terror on Black people, and a potential economic crash. It’s going to get worse before it gets better.
All I keep hearing on social media is, “How did this happen?” and “What do we do now?” I don’t have all the answers, but I know that we keep going. Trump doesn’t stop, so neither can we. Evil never sleeps, and neither should we. The very people hurt by Trump have to lead the charge to defeat him. We need new strategies for a new era.
We can’t just rely on tactics like protests and marches; we must also lean on strategic, purposeful action. It’s wild to me that we haven’t unified in boycotting the people who fund conservative politicians and justices. Is our comfort so important that we would give up our rights just to shop at our favorite store or eat at our favorite restaurant? Dr. King and those in the Civil Rights Movement understood that hitting the pockets of the most hateful people would bring them to their knees. I don’t want to just make the forces of evil feel uncomfortable — I want to break them until they have nothing left. I want them to live in fear of our power.
Now the Democratic Party has major problems that we can’t overlook anymore. Election night was not an indictment of hearts or intent, but the truth is that the Democratic brand — and its strategies — are very unpopular. Why? Obviously, racism and sexism push millions to hate a party that is diverse. Half of those who vote have a hatred for Black people, women, immigrants, the LGBTQ community, and people with disabilities. They have no intention of loving those who don’t look like them. We have to realize that time is too precious to waste trying to change their minds or hearts.
But there is another group of people that Democrats have not been able to reach — infrequent voters, people who sat this election out. The party also needs to reach infrequent voters. With over 100 million eligible voters staying home, many have lost faith in our democracy and institutions. You can’t just call them ignorant for not voting when a lot of these people deal with poverty, homelessness and disablities. They’ve fallen through the cracks and feel that they aren’t apart of the system.
I’m not saying that sentiment is true, but it’s human nature. These people wouldn’t vote for Trump, but they never felt compelled to get involved either. Is it the right way to think? No, but at points in my life, I’ve been broke, and I can see how circumstances can lead to apathy. You can ignore that point of view but at your own risk.
What frustrates me is that the Democratic Party should be their home. We have been, and should continue to be, the party of the common man, the party of the factory worker on minimum wage, the party of the single mom treading the poverty line. From personal experience, we have too many people in ivory towers and not enough people actually walking the streets and listening. There’s nothing wrong with Ivy League degrees (education is important), but if you can’t talk to the factory worker or the cook, then it all means nothing. Politics is a ‘people’ business, and that will never change.
I remember when I was working with my state party and some of our white volunteers didn’t want to go into Black neighborhoods to canvas. My brother and I couldn’t believe it, but it showed that some are turned off by the very people they serve and need.This disconnect needs to be fixed within the party, or they’ll never be able to unite the broad range of voters they need to win.
We need to rethink our approach to reaching marginalized communities. The party can’t just show up months before an election; outreach should start the day after. Stop relying on celebrities and influencers without real community investment. And please, change how you engage with Black people — no more barbershop summits. Black men go other places too. Let’s be honest: institutions like the Black church no longer have the influence they once did, especially with younger people. We need to get creative and hire those with authentic voices and real credibility in the community, not just those deemed “safe.”
We also need to use our power more forcefully. I believe we should have run on bold issues, like expanding the Supreme Court or ending the filibuster. Biden could’ve started that conversation — even without the votes — just to give people something to push for. We’re in a new time, and ideas once seen as radical need to be taken seriously.
Lastly, we have to take a hard look at America. In 3 straight elections, white voters backed Trump, including white women who have been disproportionately hurt by the repeal of Roe v. Wade. Whiteness is America’s greatest currency, and many white people will destroy themselves to preserve it. Many in the media tried to scapegoat Black men when in the end Latinos (especially Latino men) didn’t vote in solidarity with Black people. Many chose proximity to whiteness over the well-being of their community. People don’t want to hear it, but it’s the truth.
Many in the Black community feel we’re on our own, carrying the burden of democracy while others reap the benefits. With so many feeling abandoned, I’m not sure we’ll see the same mass marches or solidarity as in 2016 and 2020. As a Black man, my priority for the next four years is to strengthen my community and ensure our voices are heard. For many, self-preservation is the path forward.
We also need to address the sexism in this race. Millions of men couldn’t even accept the idea of a woman — a Black woman, at that — leading this nation, even though they’ve spent their whole lives being led by their mothers, teachers, supervisors, and bosses. Unfortunately, many of these Americans will soon feel the wrath of a Trump administration. To the marginalized people who voted for him: you will soon learn exactly who he is and how little he cares about you. The hardest part of learning a lesson is that you usually have to feel the consequences to truly understand it.
To those rejoicing over Trump and thinking that you’ve destroyed us, be careful what you ask for. Yes, people are devastated, but many honestly don’t care if the whole thing burns down. They feel they’re in hell and don’t care if you join them. People will only take so much before they return the energy you gave them. As Langston Hughes said: “Negroes… Sweet and docile, Meek, humble, and kind: Beware the day, They change their minds. Wind, In the cotton fields, Gentle Breeze: Beware the hour, It uproots trees!”
To those reading this, I understand the fear and pain you’re feeling. To the Black woman telling her daughter that the first Black woman candidate lost, your pain is seen. This campaign is not a reflection of you or your worth. To those carrying a heavy heart, don’t let them take your joy — that’s all we have left. To anyone wondering what’s next, I say we fight. They’ve thrown everything at us, but the promise of freedom keeps us going. If not for us, then for our children, for my niece and nephew. We owe it to them to keep pushing forward, not surrender to complacency or apathy.
I know there is a time to grieve, but I’m also reminded that you can “visit grief but do not stay.”
