Why for Black America, Politics is a Condition of Survival

I often reflect on a moment from a documentary I watched two years ago, at my induction ceremony as the Vice President of Programs for the Greater Atlanta Democratic Women. The film followed several activists, but one woman’s words have remained fused to my consciousness. She looked into the camera, her gaze a mixture of exhaustion and defiance, and posed a question that was not a question at all, but a foundational truth. She spoke of her identity, a woman, Black, born in this country, and concluded, “Every aspect of my life is political. How can I not be involved in politics?”

That sentiment is the bedrock of my own existence. For myself, and for every Black person in this nation, to be apolitical is a luxury we have never been afforded. It is a willful act of historical amnesia, a dangerous disregard for the present, and a dereliction of our duty to the future. Our very presence on this soil is the result of a political and economic decision. Our fight for personhood was, and remains, a political struggle. The quality of our lives, the safety of our children, and the potential of our legacy are all dictated by the machinations of a political system that was not designed for our benefit, but for our subjugation.

The current occupant of the White House and his brigade are not an anomaly; they are the logical conclusion of a political history that has always sought to control and constrain Black and brown bodies. As they work with terrifying synchronicity to dismantle our rights, women’s rights, and the rights of our brown brothers and sisters, we are reminded of a painful but clarifying truth: our freedom is not a permanent state. It is a fragile territory that must be defended every single day. My heart breaks for our brown siblings who may have voted for this regime, hoping for a different outcome (even if that outcome was meant to harm us). But their political choices do not absolve us of our responsibility to them. An attack on one of us is an attack on all of us. We must care for each other, especially when we are led astray, because the machinery of oppression is indiscriminate in its ultimate consumption.

Our Political DNA

The assertion that politics is embedded in our DNA is not hyperbole; it is a historical fact. Our political consciousness began the moment Christopher Columbus, and the European colonial project he represented, encountered indigenous peoples, Black peoples, and claimed their land through a doctrine of political and religious superiority. Our political journey in this nation began when the first slave ship, a vessel of politically sanctioned human trafficking, departed from the shores of Africa with our kidnapped ancestors chained in its belly. They were not immigrants; they were prisoners of a political and economic system known as chattel slavery.

Every waking moment of my life, my thoughts are consumed by this legacy. I think of my children, my family, and the Black community, and I am forced to confront the generational impact this administration and its ideology will have. It is my solemn mission to spend every breath I have raising awareness and being a part of the change. Some may see this as obsessive, but it is not an obsession born of neurosis. It is an obsession born from a love so deep and so profound that it refuses to turn us loose. It is a love that compels me to believe in our collective power, even when we are tired, even when we are disheartened. If you were to ask those who know me personally, they would tell you that this deep, abiding love for my people is the engine of my work. It is a love that will not let me rest until we all understand the existential danger that Republicans and MAGA supporters represent not just to our community, but to the very concept of American democracy.

The American political system, from its inception, has been a study in cognitive dissonance. The same men who penned eloquent words about unalienable rights were simultaneously engaged in the brutal subjugation of African people. The U.S. Constitution itself is a testament to this, embedding the 3/5 Compromise, a political calculation that codified our ancestors as subhuman for the purpose of apportioning congressional representation to the very states that enslaved them. This was not a flaw in the system; it was a foundational feature. As the legal scholar Derrick Bell (1992) argued in his seminal work on the permanence of racism, the structures of American law were architected to prioritize the interests of white supremacy at every turn. Racism is not an unfortunate byproduct of the American political experiment; it is its source code.

Even after the Emancipation Proclamation, a military and political strategy as much as a moral declaration, the system adapted. The period of Reconstruction, a brief, radical moment of Black political ascension, was violently crushed by a political counter-revolution. What followed was the implementation of Black Codes, vagrancy laws, and convict leasing, slavery by another name, all enforced through the political will of a white supremacist power structure. The Plessy v. Ferguson Supreme Court decision of 1896, which enshrined separate but equal as the law of the land, was a political act that legalized apartheid and unleashed a century of state sanctioned terror on Black America (Foner, 2002). Our lives have always been legislated, adjudicated, and policed by a system that views our existence as a problem to be managed.

Our Inner Rebel for Good Trouble

Understanding this history is a prerequisite for effective action. It informs us that waiting for moral awakenings from our oppressors is a fool's errand. Power concedes nothing without a demand, as Frederick Douglass told us. It is therefore incumbent upon us to awaken the inner rebel that resides in each of us the spirit of Good Trouble that exists to be shown to the world.

We must wake up the inner John Lewis, whose unwavering conscience knew that some laws are unjust and must be disobeyed. We must wake up the inner Martin Luther King Jr., whose radical love was matched only by his strategic brilliance in organizing mass movements. We must wake up the inner Malcolm X, whose fierce demand for self-determination reminded us that we must define ourselves for ourselves. We must wake up the inner Maxine Waters, who reclaims her time and speaks truth to power without apology. We must wake up the inner Shirley Chisholm, who had the audacity to be unbought and unbossed, bringing her own folding chair to a table that was never set for her.

This awakening, however, cannot be confined to the digital realm. To be a keyboard warrior is to engage in the performance of activism without the risk of activism. It is a hollow catharsis that changes nothing. True political engagement demands that we put our bodies, our time, and our resources on the line. We must:

1. Actively Work and Join Organizations: Find your place in the struggle. Whether it is the NAACP, a local chapter of Black Lives Matter, the Dekalb Democrats, or a social justice ministry at your church, there is power in collective organizing. These organizations provide the structure, resources, and community necessary for sustained struggle.

   
   

2. Study and Share Information: We have a duty to be rigorously informed. Read the legislation being proposed. Understand the policy platforms. We must arm ourselves with knowledge so that we can effectively dismantle the arguments of our opponents and educate our own communities, inoculating them against the potent venom of disinformation.

   
   

3. Refuse to Comply with Dangerous Policies: Civil disobedience is a time honored and essential tool of political change. When the state enacts laws that are morally reprehensible and constitutionally dubious whether they target voting rights, reproductive freedom, or educational curricula we must be prepared to organize and refuse cooperation.

   
   

4. Stand Up and Demand Change: This means showing up. It means testifying at school board meetings when they try to ban our history. It means running for local office. It means registering our neighbors to vote. It means protesting in the streets. It means holding our own elected officials accountable, regardless of their party.

   
   

The lifeblood of our democracy, and indeed, our very lives and the lives of our children, truly depend on our actions today. I wish I could transmit the fire burning in my heart directly into yours this consuming need to lead, to serve, to bring about change for my people and my community. It is a fire that forbids complacency. We cannot and will not comply with the enemy. We will not roll over, be subservient, lick their boots, or audition to be their chosen Negro for a pittance of money and a fleeting proximity to power. That is a fool's bargain, a betrayal of our ancestors and an abdication of our responsibility to our descendants.

We must stand firm. We must link arms. We must be the unwavering, unyielding, and unrelenting demand for change. For us, politics is not a game, a hobby, or a biannual obligation. It is the air we breathe, the water we drink, and the battlefield upon which our freedom is won or lost. Let us choose to win.

References

Bell, D. A. (1992). Faces at the bottom of the well: The permanence of racism. Basic Books.

Foner, E. (2002). Reconstruction: America's unfinished revolution, 1863-1877. Harper Perennial Modern Classics.