Dear BK Readers,
Happy New Year! It’s that time of year again! Time to RElease, REset and REnew!
However, in less than two weeks, we will be RE-inaugurating into the Oval Office someone who had the lowest approval rating of any president ever when he last held office– someone who historians have resoundingly agreed was the worst president in our country’s history.
Yet, still. We reelected him.
There are millions of people in Brooklyn who are looking forward to this occasion. But the majority of Brooklyn residents are anxious, noxious. Concerned.
It’s no secret that, for the past two months, my feelings around the incoming president align with those in the latter group (just look at my past letters).
After three months of surging in the polls and reinvigorating our enthusiasm around a campaign intent on “saving Democracy,” the Democratic presidential nominee, Kamala Harris, lost the election to a 34-times convicted felon. Stunning.
For the first week, after the results, I shut down. I felt betrayed, but not by the president-elect or the Republican party. They obviously ran the best campaign. I felt betrayed by the groups that voted against their own interest just to maintain white male leadership. And I felt betrayed by those who chose to stay home, despite the sacrifices my ancestors made to be able to vote. (And this is not hyperbole: My great grandfather was beaten and left paralyzed in 1964 by a mob of Ku Klux Klan members during “Freedom Summer” in the rural American South where the Klan was engaging in violent means of voter suppression.)
Then, the following week, I went through my “angry at Democrats” stage, whereby I blamed Kamala Harris for failing to adequately address her plans for dealing with the war in Gaza (the reason many of the Democratic potential voters stayed home); blamed the Democratic House Minority leader (who is also my congressman) for failing to send BK Reader a single press communication in the year leading up to the election (after several calls and emails to his office asking why); blamed the Democratic Congressional Campaign Committee for failing to spend not even 1% of the $1 billion they bragged about raising with local or ethnic or grassroots media (where the opposing campaign spent hundreds of millions targeting the Black community).
I blamed the Democratic Nattional Committee for running a “corporatized” campaign that failed to listen to its base, who for the four years prior had been slowly peeling away, because they felt ignored, taken for granted. They chose instead to lean on celebrity endorsements to garner votes– a very reductive and somewhat insulting approach to our intelligence and real concerns.
But in the third week, on a business call with a colleague, I had a conversation that helped redirect my angst and renew my enthusiasm around the very real opportunity for a positive outcome.
And that is what I wanted to share with you today:
My colleague was also concerned about the outcome but, at the same time, oddly calm. He shared with me a story about his own experience 20 years ago, while working as an executive at BBDO, one of the top five marketing and advertising firms in the country. His office was right next to Doug Alligood, who, in the 1950s had become the first African-American Executive Vice President of Horizontal Marketing at a major ad agency on Madison Avenue, the first Black man to hold such a title at that time. He was a popular and celebrated figure in the industry, known for his success in growing brands like Pepsi by imbuing them with a more racially diverse marketing strategy and making it a national priority.
When Mr. Alligood decided to retire, my colleague recalled, he was cleaning out his desk and came across a letter he had written to his boss during his early days as a junior executive. In this old letter Mr. Alligood outlined all of the goals he had for the company to bring about diversity, equity and inclusion.
Mr. Alligood called my colleague into his office to show him the letter and confided that he said it broke his heart to see what he wrote back then … Because, he said, he had just written almost the identical letter to the board of directors outlining what still needed to be addressed in the company. He was shocked to see, 50 years later, the same unaddressed needs, and he wondered whether he’d really made a difference at all…
My friend and colleague told me that that same evening, he called his mother and told her what Mr. Alligood said in regards to the fight for equity; whether it was a worthy endeavor; and whether he really had made an impact after all. And this is what his mother said in response:
"Yes, he most certainly did make a difference, because without his presence, you might not have had that job at all. The younger generations need to understand that you cannot fix what is not fixed. Justice is not a permanent, fixed structure that you erect and it remains in place forever… Justice is a garden that needs to constantly be tended, as the seasons change. And so justice, as a garden, needs to be sowed, and watered and turned over constantly, or the garden will die off."
"It is the responsibility of each generation to teach the next how to garden, so that the flowers and the fruits continue to grow and reproduce. So if you look at it in this way, he did do his job. It is now your turn to tend the garden he has cared for all of these years. And you must teach the next generation how to keep the garden of justice alive as well!"
And so this is why my friend’s attitude around this year’s election did not give him despair, because he’d always remembered his mother’s wise words and so understood and was prepared for life’s fluctuating cycles.
His story gave me a fresh perspective on the work I am doing and the work that needs to continue: Justice is a garden that needs constant watering. And it is only if we stop watering that garden– and also stop teaching others how to do so– will that garden die.
We’re entering a new season, BK Readers!
Are you ready to roll up your sleeves, pick up your gardening tool of choice and be the next tenders? Now is an opportunity to turn over the soil, plant new seeds, and ensure the next crop bears a fruit that will flourish for the next few generations.
Because a garden doesn’t grow on its own. We are its essential and resilient keepers.
Sincerely,
C. Zawadi Morris, Publisher, BK Reader
