Believe America the First Time
Believe America the First Time
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| Steve Kornacki on TODAY, Wednesday, March 4, 2020. Photo: Nathan Congleton/NBC/NBCU Photo Bank |
As you can probably tell, I’ve been quite silent about the election since July. I wrote a piece around the time that Sonya Massey was killed in her home by police while simultaneously Kamala Harris had won the democratic presidential nomination. It was a confusing time—a time when a Black woman could be extrajudicially killed in her home by police officers *she* called for help and a Black woman could win one of the most important nominations on the planet.
And, damn! Have things gotten even more confusing…just look at the lunacy that has been this election:
I know….
In my new job as an organizer, I’ve been working in the community to encourage people to vote. I’ve had to be hope. I’ve been in charge of getting people to call thousands of voters. Thousands. I helped out with a press release. I’ve worked to inspire people to go canvassing. To talk to their friends. And their family. I’ve pulled out my Spanish—as broken as it was—to communicate to people the importance of their vote. I made people promise to vote. To pledge to vote. To do anything but be apathetic. Anything but give up *even* as that constant droning from the Worst Outcome continued to flood my consciousness. I don’t think there has been a day in the last month where I haven’t cried out of frustration with how things have continued to go. But I had to push through and continue to organize. To be hope.
But the push had to come to an end. Polls aren’t open forever. We did everything that we possibly could. We made our case. We interrupted people’s days and nights. We pulled them out their homes. We trained them. We taught them. We begged—BEGGED—precinct judges, pastors, leaders, to do anything they can. We did all we could. We really, truly did.
And so now, as I watch the projections being called, I can’t be surprised. And I can’t be angry. Or hurt. Or upset. *That* would be a mistake. Because if nothing else, I should’ve believed America the first time.
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Beyonce appears at a campaign event for Democratic presidential nominee Vice President Kamala Harris in Houston, on Oct. 25, 2024. Annie Mulligan/Associated Press |
I should’ve believed America when I saw Sonya. And when I saw Gaza. When I saw homelessness become illegal constitutionally. When I saw incarcerated people fighting fires. When I saw Khaliifah. When I saw Ashville. And Trump.
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| Marcellus Williams. | Source: The Innocence Project |
I’m sure if you’re even the most minutely aware of your surroundings, the fact that we continue to have to struggle against White supremacy and Christian nationalism (redundant, I know) is no surprise. Well that may be if you were disillusioned by the Obama presidency. But why? Why do we continue to have to struggle against the most blatant fascism year after year after year?
I answer, "Believe America the first time."
Why do we continue to struggle the very real facts of our subjugation and organize against it?
I reply, “baby, believe America the first time."
What was the American dream?
I say, “a dream! Believe America the first time."
Why do we continue to point the finger at our cellmate and not the warden?
"Believe America the first time."
I’m not going to try to calm your nerves, make you feel better. Or give you hope. That’s my job where I am (and these are not billable hours), but if you’re reading this you’re not where I am. Just like I have to be hope, so do you. This is the charge of radical optimism—we have to be hope despite. Not naïve, not careless, but radically optimistic. Because at this point, we’ve believed America.
Now we have to believe in ourselves.
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