It's been going on for centuries. You may be new to The Fight, so you need to know:
The Fight isn't about you.
You are part of a larger story. Yes, you have a role to play.
You are a steward.
As previous generations fought to make your world better, so it's incumbent on you to do what you can for those who pick up The Fight when we are gone.
Yes, you will be impacted by The Fight, win or lose. Your life matters.
Right now matters. However, the sacrifices you make and the examples you set will become the platform for future generations.
In the same way we look back to the leaders of the 60 Civil Rights Movement, 50 years from now what we do this week may be studied and used as a basis by which to form new strategies, form new alliances, devise new tools.
Because The Fight isn't new.
The Fight evolves and shifts because it doesn't want to die. The Fight is learning, watching, always trying to win the war of attrition.
If defeating an incompetent aspiring autocrat is taking all of our combined energy and resources, I assure you:
A competent aspiring autocrat is out there right now, taking notes.
That won't be our fight. There's always another fight for another day, so there's no need to get ahead of yourself. Polish your shields. Do some calisthenics.
The Fight doesn't stop tomorrow.
The Fight isn't over on January 20, 2021.
The Fight goes on. And so do we.
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Four years ago yesterday, I woke up believing this country was ready to elect its first woman president. I challenged anyone who'd listen not just to defeat her opponent, but to defeat the conditions that gave him rise.
I admit: I underestimated the depth of US misogyny.
The current administration wasted no time slathering insults on political injuries. In the past four years, the breathless whispers through clutched pearls of "that's not who we are" can be matched only by the wails in the past 24 hours of "I thought we were better than this."
This is who this country has always been.
It has never been better than this.
If you are Black in the US you are ill-afforded the luxury of racial naiveté. We know this country better than it knows itself, because we've had to.
The last time the United States was as divided as they are now was over the abolition of slavery. We couldn't agree on some very basic human rights, so we went to war. Over 600,000 Americans were killed, more than in WW1 and WW2 combined. /1
When the North won, they knew they couldn't impose punitive damages on the South, because the United States was still an agrarian society, and so economically dependent on the South.
With this in mind, provisions were built into the 13th Amendment, and the concessions of The Reconstruction were established.
These concessions led immediately to peonage, Jim Crow, segregation, and finally the current age of mass incarceration.
In 2016 I voted for HRC. Admittedly I was not her biggest fan. The difference in qualifications between her and her opponent however, was staggering.
On one hand, a former senator and Secretary of State, on the other:
A failed reality TV show host, a wannabe, clown, a racist, a sexual predator, an ignoramous quite possibly compromised by a hostile foreign power.
HRC wasn’t perfect; no one is. But compared to 45*? C’mon.
I knew the racists were coming out in force for 45*.
Racists voted for 45*.
Misogynists voted against HRC.
At its core, my inability to see how deeply ingrained sexism is in this country is akin to white people’s inability to fathom how deeply entrenched racism is in this country.
There's great historical significance and rich cultural backstory for how the simple act of eating outdoors, colloquially called "The Cookout" became a quorum for Blackness in the US.
An invitation to The Cookout equals instant validation into Black society. Representing more than just casual acceptance, an invite to The Cookout is an unstated baptism into Blackness; the culinary equivalent of being handed a Black Card.
To attend The Cookout means being welcomed into the Black Inner Sanctum, a LITERAL safe place we created for ourselves where we can connect, argue, argue MORE, play games, peacock, and most of all, bond over fucking delicious food.
@Twitter If I could go back in time and tell this asshole what his life would be like now, he's not smart enough to believe me.
Just like I'm not smart enough to believe a future version of me, if he showed up and told me what my life will be like a decade from now.
@Twitter The asshole in this pic thought he was pretty smart. Just like I think I'm pretty smart today.
Both of us are wrongright. Past and present me have so much to learn, so much space to grow, so many personal biases to unlearn, so much more bandwidth to create.
As a person of color in this country, everywhere I go I’m forced to consider if people around me wish me harm, or are okay with my being harmed.
So every time I find out people I know and love are okay with people who are okay with this, it’s a kick in the gut. /1
Complicity with complicity is complicity.
Last year I was profoundly hurt to hear a friend declare their intent to avoid conversing with their relatives about their continued support of an administration which is actively seeking to harm brown people.
It was 9am. I went outside, sat on the ground,
and cried.
I cried because if my friends—who know and love me, who consider me a friend, who say they want good for people of all backgrounds—won’t speak up for me: