#hopeful

“When you lose all sense of fear, you’re free.”

Congressman John Lewis

There’s so many reasons not to feel hopeful right now. We’re 6 months into a pandemic that has (as of this post) killed 154,000 in the U.S. and crippled our economy. We’re just weeks away from what should be the beginning of the school semester, yet our leaders have wasted months arguing about how to safely reopen the economy and seem ill-prepared to safely protect our students, teachers, and school personnel. Meanwhile, cases of COVID-19 continue to surge, hospitalizations are increasing at a pace that threatens many health care institutions, and economic situations for many remain precarious. Couple all of that with continued racial injustice and ongoing misogyny, and it sometimes feels like everything is broken beyond repair.

But I’m actually finding reasons to be hopeful.

Like so many others, I have watched many of the moving tributes to Congressman John Lewis, who passed away on July 17. Dubbed the “Conscience of the Congress,” Congressman Lewis remained steadfast in his resolve to protect human rights and secure civil liberties for all, including ensuring that all individuals have the constitutionally protected right to vote.

As a college student, he challenged the injustice of Jim Crow laws by organizing peaceful sit-ins at segregated lunch counters in Nashville. In 1961 at the age of 21, he became one of the original Freedom Riders; seven whites and six blacks who were determined to ride from Washington, D.C. to New Orleans sitting next to each other, something that was still banned by many states in the South. As the chairman of the Student Nonviolent Coordinating Committee (SNCC), he was the youngest person to speak with Reverend Martin Luther King, Jr. and other civil rights icons at the March on Washington in 1963. And in 1965, a century after the Civil War ended and the Emancipation Proclamation was signed, the then 25-year-old Lewis, led over 600 marchers across the Edmund Pettus Bridge in Selma, Alabama, now known as Bloody Sunday.

While Lewis remained committed to peaceful, nonviolent protests, he repeatedly faced just the opposite from white mobs and law enforcement in the South, who brutally beat, bloodied and seriously injured him multiple times. Yes, multiple times. Not just in Selma, but in Nashville and all along the Freedom Riders route.

Years later, Lewis recalled being hit in the head with a wooden crate when he was a Freedom Rider. "It was very violent. I thought I was going to die. I was left lying at the Greyhound bus station in Montgomery unconscious.” Still Lewis and others were determined not to let any act of violence keep them from their goal. “We knew our lives could be threatened, but we had made up our minds not to turn back," Lewis said towards the end of his life in regard to his perseverance following the act of violence.

His perseverance led to the desegregation of lunch counters in downtown Nashville. He was instrumental in hastening the passage of the Voting Rights Act of 1965. And, he continued his efforts until he breathed his last breath.

His dedication to the highest ethical standards and moral principles may have made him an anomaly in Washington, DC, but it garnered him the admiration of many of his colleagues on both sides of the aisle in the United States Congress. Even Senator Mitch McConnell (who honestly, I never expected to quote in one of my blogs), praised Congressman Lewis when he said, "Even though the world around him gave him every cause for bitterness, Lewis treated everyone with respect and love.”

In a media environment where so much space is devoted to brash, vile incompetence, Congressman Lewis was verification that hope for humankind is still possible.

Perhaps it would behoove Florida’s Representative Ted Yoho to spend some time studying the art of selflessness and service from the legendary icon. On July 20, Yoho confronted his colleague Representative Alexandria Ocasio-Cortez on the steps of the U.S. Capitol, and called her “disgusting” and a “fucking bitch.” Of course, he denied saying those words, although he was overheard by a witness. Texas Representative Roger Williams was with Representative Yoho at the time of the incident, but claims he was “thinking about other matters” and didn’t hear the exchange. Later, Yoho told the House that he apologized for the “abruptness” of his “conversation” with his “colleague from New York,” saying that he is “passionate” about his causes, has been married for 45 years and has two daughters,” as if being married to a woman and being a father to daughters means that he couldn’t possibly be a sexist. For far too long, women have stayed silent out of fear of the misogynistic behavior of repulsive powerful men or because we have just become desensitized to it.

I know that some people will choose to believe Representative Yoho’s version rather than Representative Ocasio-Cortez’s version because of political affiliation. I wasn’t a witness to what happened, but I believe Representative Ocasio-Cortez’s version because I have personally witnessed too many similar comments made by men to me and my female friends and colleagues, and I have read even more. I didn’t deserve to be treated that way, nor did my friends. Nor does my daughter or my mother or my sister or my nieces, nor does anyone’s daughter, mother, grandmother, sister, or niece. And neither does Representative Ocasio-Cortez.

In an act of courage reminiscent of Congressman Lewis, Representative Ocasio-Cortez chose not to stay silent. On July 23, she stood on the floor of the U.S. House of Representatives and spoke eloquently about the treatment she received from Representative Yoho. She described hearing the same language Yoho used directed at her at her jobs, while riding public transportation, and while walking down the street. She said her comments were not about one incident, but about “a culture of impunity, acceptance of violence and violent language against women, and an entire structure of power that supports a pattern of an attitude towards women and the dehumanization of others.”

In one of the most poignant parts of her 10-minute speech, Representative Ocasio-Cortez said, “I am here because I have to show my parents that I am their daughter and that they did not raise me to accept abuse from men.”

Both Representative Lewis and Representative Ocasio-Cortez reminded me what true courage looks like.

To Representative Ocasio-Cortez – amen, sister!

To Representative Lewis – rest in peace, good and faithful servant.

I am still hopeful.