Hold On, a Change Is Gonna Come: 2024 Election Reflection

I can’t remember the exact age I was when I first realized what being Black in America meant. I do know I was far too young for the weight of such a heavy and complex sentiment. Those who raised us made sure that my siblings and I understood as early in life as possible that we would sadly always have to work ten times harder to get even a quarter as much as the next person. This mentality of hard work and perseverance has been the foundation of our family (and Black families like ours) for generations. It literally lives within us.

I don’t know about the rest of y’all, but I am TIRED. Tired of always having to be the “bigger person.” Exhausted from constantly pushing forward in the face of adversity. Sick of waking up, terrified for my own well-being and the safety of the people I love and care about most in this world. It is the year 2024 in the United States of America, with an impending threat to democracy, reproductive rights, and voting rights, while racism, xenophobia, and unfiltered hate have already begun surging, the country has spoken loud and clear – but this should not be our reality.

On Election Day, before any results rolled in, I woke up already feeling like a target. As the sun went down, the thought of leaving my house filled me with fear. But unfortunately, I had to head out to pick up groceries. I sat in the supermarket parking lot, desperately checking live results on my phone. I found myself looking up every few seconds to check my surroundings, glancing at every vantage point around my car to make sure no one was secretly approaching me. It was around 8 p.m. EST. The polls just closed. Anything could happen.

You might be thinking, “Really, Alicia? There’s no clear winner yet. You seriously think someone might attack you in a Walmart parking lot in suburban Maryland just because of an election?”

Absolutely, and this is why.

Maryland may have been part of the Union during the Civil War, but that does not make it immune to racism. Those of us who know even an ounce of our state’s history understand its deeply embedded racism all too well. While I generally have a sunny disposition, I’m not naïve! I stay vigilant. What people like me (Black, queer, woman, non-binary) feared the most came to light early on a grim Wednesday morning: the bleak reality of four more years of unfiltered terror and dread.

As a person on the margins of mainstream America, what I know to be true is who you vote for is a direct reflection of who you are. Your choices are a personification of your morals, values, and beliefs. So , the simple fact of the matter is that telling someone whom you love how much you care about them and then supporting people and policies that will harm them and diminish their rights, is beyond hypocritical. This election has showcased what my people have known for centuries: white supremacy is this country’s most enduring legacy and major currency.

Americans love to have a selective and romanticized view when it comes to the honest history of our nation. Harriet Tubman and Frederick Douglass were born into slavery on Maryland’s Eastern Shore, a district that continues to battle generational bigotry in the 21^st century. In the town of Federalsburg, Maryland, it was only in 2023, that Black elected officials began holding public office. Their victory in the election is a first in the Town’s 200-year history of a white-only town council, despite its large and increasing number of Black residents. Since its establishment, the Eastern Shore has also been the site of several lynchings. Montgomery County harbors several confederate monuments that still stand, untouched and unchallenged. While Prince George’s County is now one of the most affluent Black communities in the country, it wasn’t always that way. The county once had the highest ratio of enslaved persons in the state of Maryland.

City streets and rural roads meet in Frederick County, where age old discrimination has made its home for decades. Racism is “whispered” and goes unchecked. People who hold bigoted views quietly sweep their hatred under a rug that doubles as a metaphorical mask. The mascot for Linganore Middle and Linganore High has been and remains a “Lancer.” It was once a giant painted image of an Indigenous man in traditional headdress. The school showcased it on the wall of the high school gym. My siblings and I attended a high school across town in Frederick City, named after the first Governor of Maryland, Governor Thomas Johnson, a slaveowner. The school is located next to Rose Hill Manor, his estate, once a plantation. His home remains historically preserved for events, tours, and the backdrop for countless senior photos throughout the years as if it were not the most atrocious place to hold celebrations. Not that long ago, just north of the city, in the town of Thurmont, white supremacists of the Ku Klux Klan held meetings that echoed through the Catoctin Mountains from a very active chapter of the hate group.

People who look and identify like me are losing much more than civil liberties in the current political climate. They’re losing their autonomy, safety, sanity, and hope for the future. I don’t want to hear about unity. There is a moral divide in our nation. It has been there long before the Founding Fathers declared independence for a select group of individuals. This election is another depressing reminder of everything we are losing. I don’t want to hear, “We’ve been here before. We’ll get through it again.” While that may be true, that doesn’t make it any less disheartening and unhelpful. Things are gravely different this time. We can already feel it – in our bodies, in the streets, and for some of us even in our own homes.

(Poster designed by Nicole McCann.)

To all my beloved communities, and to those I don’t belong to but still support: I know your heartache, I see your pain, I hear your cries, I hold your hands, and I stand with you forevermore. There have been other pivotal points in history when the majority professed that there was no need for alarm, and everything was fine. But today, with every fiber of justified rage coursing through me, I say: this is not okay, and this cannot be normalized. Our nervous systems are more than shocked. They’ve been obliterated. This unnatural disaster is still fresh. It’s completely understandable and respectable that there isn’t much optimism floating around. Frankly, in the face of grim reality, who has the space for optimism? Yet somehow, I do believe that it is not foolish for us to still hope, even just a little (the link will take you to YouTube to "Hold On" by the Alabama Shakes). Let us hold fast to faith that we will someday live in times that are not unprecedented or trying.

Time and persistence can change everything. We might not live to see it, but we sure as hell will build it. I can’t promise you that things will magically get better overnight or even in the next few years. What I can promise you is that we will do what we always do: rest, reevaluate, resist, and lead a righteous revolution (the link will take you to YouTube to "A Change Is Gonna Come" by Same Cooke).