A Post-2024 Election Reflection
To say I am disappointed with the outcome of Tuesday's US presidential election would be an understatement of note. Horrified probably comes closer to it. In the coming days, many a pundit, blogger, and armchair critic will dissect what Kamala Harris shoulda-coulda-woulda done. But no matter which way you look at it, misogynoir played an outsized role. I will (maybe?) write more about that later, but as a Black woman who has lived with the reality of having to be twice as good to get half as much, this outcome is shocking but not surprising. With that said, I want to encourage you, Sis, to feel all of your feelings; and to remind you that there is no deadline by which you “should” be over this, there is no right way to mourn, and there is more than one way to fight back. And in case you need a reminder, as Tricia Hersey teaches, rest is resistance. Personally, as I have cycled through the phases of grief, one of the questions that has constantly arisen for me is, “Who will stand on my shoulders?”
As I watched Kamala Harris on her 107-day campaign sprint, raising a billion dollars, rolling out viable policy plans (not just concepts of a plan), and engaging people from every walk of life, I was reminded that her vice-presidency and White House bid were made possible by countless women who went before her.
Past Generation of Strong Women Made This Possible
Throughout this election season, I've thought of Shirley Chisholm, the first Black woman elected to Congress and the first person of African descent to run for president through a major political party. Initially elected to Congress in 1968, Chisholm ran in 1972 under the slogan “Unbought and Unbossed.”
I thought of Sojourner Truth, who, when white suffragists tried to prevent her from speaking at an 1851 woman's rights conference, asserted her womanhood, her Black womanhood, and gave her seminal speech “Ain't I A Woman.”
I thought of Anna Julia Cooper, who declared, “When and where I enter, in the quiet, undisputed dignity of my womanhood, without violence and without suing or special patronage, then and there the whole race enters with me.” Cooper, an ardent Pan-Africanist, anti-imperialist, and civil rights activist, penned A Voice from the South in 1892, one of the first published works of Black feminism.
And these are just a few of the women whose lives, work, and legacies made Harris's presidential aspirations possible. In their eras, they redefined the bounds of possibility for Black women and stood as models of what could be. While Harris did not win the White House, her campaign was not a total loss. By running, she created new dreams, hopes, and aspirations for countless others, because she stood on the shoulders of giants.
As we move through the aftermath of this election, I am asking myself, in my life and work, what am I leaving behind for people to build on? Who will stand on my shoulders? In this moment, regardless of who we are and where we focus our efforts—whether it be as a caregiver, entrepreneur, educator, or politician—there is work to do. We may not see the culmination of our efforts, but we can work to ensure future generations do.
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