In a country as divided as ours, watching the Democratic and Republican national conventions back-to-back is bound to give anyone a severe case of psychological whiplash. And that has been very much the case with me.
The week before the past one, I watched the Democratic convention and, as a Democrat and a progressive, I found myself genuinely inspired by not only the positive and, above all, unified nature of the message presented by Joe Biden, Bernie Sanders, and their allies all over the nation. Likewise, I was inspired by the use of technology to overcome the sense of isolation generated by the pandemic, and give all of us a feeling that, however physically separated we are in this awful moment of history, we are all on the same page when it comes to how we move forward from it. In particular, I liked the way the traditional roll call of the states became not a collection of party bosses in an arena, but a wide range of ordinary Americans from different locals in all states and territories. It's safe to say, judging from the public reaction to that part of the convention, that this approach may become the norm even when we get into a post-pandemic world.
By this time last weekend, I found myself almost being able to remember what this country was like when it wasn't in thrall to a rancid cult of personality. I found myself almost being able to visualize a world in which, once again, every day felt that way.
It didn't take long for the Republican Party to put a giant dent in all of that. I'm not going to re-hash the details, since that makes me feel like I'm doing the bad guy's work for them. But I have to admit that the rancid content of the robotic speeches, combined with the narcissistic abuse of public property for personal glory, pounded into television audiences over four days, was almost more than I can bear, even as I write this. Even worse was the typical MSM lapping-up of it, even to the point of allowing conservatives to turn the tragic shooting of Jacob Blake and the violent aftermath into an endorsement of conservatives, who are responsible for the culture of violence in the first place.
All of this too all of the air out of my sails, the air that the Democratic convention had put there in the first place. In my worst moments, it was almost enough to make me root for this to happen.
And then, last night, I learned of the tragically premature death of Chadwick Boseman, the gifted Black actor who brought heroes as real as Jackie Robinson, and as fictional as the Black Panther, to life.
My initial reaction was the feeling of yet another brick being dropped into the load of suffering all of us are carrying right now. But then, I learned about how, over the past five years, while he was battling colon cancer, he was still able to bring all of those heroes to life. That's the kind of accomplishment that tells death not to be proud. That's the kind of accomplishment that will keep his work and his memory alive.
And it's something for all of us to keep in our mind and hearts right now, in what feels like a pit of despair that no one can climb out of.
We owe it to ourselves, to those who came before us, to those who will come after us, to fight as hard as Boseman--and T'Challa, for that matter--fought to keep love, and hope, and peace, and plenty alive and well. Whatever happens, if we do so, we'll find a victory worth whatever it takes to get to it.
VOTE!
GET OTHERS TO VOTE!
WAKANDA FOREVER!
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