By: Kerstan Nealy (’22), Staff Writer
“I’m rooting for everybody black” (Issa Rae). From the classroom to the workforce, to the stages of Hollywood — my support of blackness has not waned. To be a supporter of black people, is for me, to be a supporter of a stronger community-based in lifting one another up. So, when Issa Rae first spoke those words, they resonated with me on a deep spiritual level.
However, as we draw ever closer to the 2020 presidential campaign, I’ve found myself thinking about this a lot more. Does rooting for everybody black mean placing my alliance with Kamala Harris or finding my vote within the camp of Senator Cory Booker during the primaries? Even more importantly though, does rooting for blackness mean maybe not voting for a black candidate at all? I’ve struggled with these thoughts as someone who watched President Barack Obama’s 2008 (and 2012) campaigns with glee.
The first time he ran, I was young, and greatly informed by MSNBC and Saturday morning beauty shop talk. The only things I truly “knew” was that he was a Democrat, his wife was beautiful, and that he was black. The policies, for me, faded into the background. What didn’t was the fact that he was BLACK, he was a Democrat, his wife was beautiful, and HE WAS BLACK. So, I became as big a fan as any young girl can. I actively debated all the other 2nd graders in my class who dared to speak against Obama, and when the time came for my parents to go to the polls, I bounced alongside them ready to make history. Why? Because for the first time ever, I thought I recognized me. The second time around, I was more critical. I regarded him as I would my dad, ultimately right on most things, but not in line with my views on some issues. I began to realize that the senator I had once held to Godly status, is just a man, and men don’t always know what is right. Blackness did not place me and President Obama on the same political-thought wave-length any more than it placed me and Beyoncé on the same financial level.
I say all that to arrive at this, blackness is not an indicator of political sameness. In the case of politics, rooting for everybody who is black means, in my opinion, rooting for those who are intent on enacting programs that benefit black communities, that enrich black lives, and that govern according to notions of equity and equality. Therefore, it doesn’t necessarily mean pulling hard for the black candidate that somewhat represents your views and the aforementioned policies. Instead, it means pulling hard for the candidate that best represents your views, while still implementing policies of positive impact. It could mean placing your vote with Elizabeth Warren or Joe Biden, or even a Republican (although in our current political climate, I ask you to choose carefully)! Black political representation is as much about having black people within our political system, as it is about having the interest of black communities recognized and acted upon.
As we end 2019’s black history month, it’s imperative that we remember what we as black people have undergone in order to be able to cast a vote in our 2020 election, and all that we still endure as black voters. It is critical that our voices are heard, and our interests represented. It is also critical that we vote during the primaries, and go to the poles, as informed citizens. So, as you gather data and begin to place your loyalty with a candidate, ensure that you’re always asking this question, “are they enacting programs that benefit black communities, that enrich black lives, and that govern according to notions of equity and equality?”. If the answer to any of those is “no”, do a reassessment of your candidate.
Happy Black History Month!
