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Trump may deny direct responsibility for this message, but denial does not absolve responsibility.
Democracy is not merely a collection of institutions, laws, and elections; democracy is, above all, a language. A language grounded in minimum respect, legitimate competition, and recognition of human dignity. When this language collapses, even if ballot boxes remain in place, the substance and meaning of democracy are hollowed out. The publication—and subsequent removal—of a humiliating video targeting Barack Obama and former first lady Michelle Obama on a social media platform affiliated with Donald Trump must be understood precisely from this perspective: not as a communication mishap or a failed joke, but as a sign of the deliberate erosion of political language in the United States.
This video, released through a platform formally associated with the President of the United States, was not merely a harsh political message; it carried symbolism deeply rooted in a long history of racial degradation. More important than the image itself is the fact that such content could be disseminated at the highest level of American political power without first being stopped by ethical, institutional, or even purely strategic filters. This was no accident, but rather the product of a distinctive style of politics that Trump has cultivated for years.
From the moment he entered politics, Trump made clear that he had no intention of playing by the classical rules of political competition. He not only discarded the unwritten norms of political civility, but consciously sought to destroy them. In this model, insult, mockery, and humiliation are not costs but political capital. The harsher the reactions, the deeper the polarization, and the more brutal the language of politics becomes, the more victorious Trump perceives himself to be. Within this framework, the publication of a humiliating video targeting a former USpresident—particularly the country’s first Black president—is not a slip, but a logical continuation of the same strategy. This behavior is less about Obama himself than it is a message to Trump’s social base: that no red lines exist and that politics can be reduced to the realm of absolute derision.
The core problem is that when such images and metaphors are circulated by an ordinary citizen, they can be relegated to the margins of online hate speech. But when they are disseminated by a president or by a network affiliated with him, they enter an entirely different realm of meaning and impact. This is no longer a matter of “political satire,” but rather the normalization of a language of humiliation at the center of power. Animalistic metaphors used to describe human beings—especially racial minorities—carry a dark and bloody historical legacy. Reproducing them, even in the form of jokes or digital imagery, sends a clear message: a return to a politics in which human dignity is sacrificed for political entertainment. Trump may deny direct responsibility for this message, but denial does not absolve responsibility.
When a president turns a platform into a personal instrument of power, the ethical and political responsibility for all its messages rests squarely with him.
The removal of the video following waves of criticism should not be mistaken for reformism or accountability. This retreat resembled a tactical maneuver more than a genuine change of course. Experience over recent years shows that Trump and the media ecosystem around him have repeatedly employed the same pattern: release provocative content, gauge reactions, and, if necessary, execute a limited retreat without a real apology or acknowledgment of wrongdoing. This pattern is dangerous because it gradually shifts the boundaries of what is considered acceptable in politics. What is deemed “removable” today may become normalized tomorrow. In this way, society is not confronted with a single dramatic shock, but with a slow erosion of norms.
Truth Social is not merely a social media platform; it is the symbol of a mode of politics in which the president, the media, the message, and the audience all operate within a closed circuit. In this space, independent journalism plays no mediating role, nor do party institutions possess the capacity to moderate messaging. The result is a politics that depends less on public persuasion and more on the mobilization of loyal supporters. Within this ecosystem, Trump is not just a user but the architect of the space itself. Therefore, he cannot be absolved of responsibility for the content disseminated within it. When a president turns a platform into a personal instrument of power, the ethical and political responsibility for all its messages rests squarely with him.
The issue extends far beyond US domestic politics. For decades, the United States has sought to present itself as a defender of values such as human dignity, equality, and the fight against discrimination. Each time the official language of American politics slides toward humiliation and mockery, these claims lose credibility in the eyes of the world. For America’s rivals, such moments are a golden opportunity: living evidence of the contradiction between rhetoric and behavior. For allies, they signal troubling normative instability. And for societies grappling with racism and discrimination, they deliver a bitter message—that even at the highest levels of power, this language still enjoys legitimacy.
Ultimately, the question is not whether a single video was offensive or not; the question is what kind of politics allows such a video to be produced and circulated in the first place. Trump is not merely an individual; he represents a style of politics in which the destruction of the language of democracy has become an ordinary tactic. If democracy is to remain more than an electoral mechanism, it must protect its language. A politics built on humiliation may win votes in the short term, but in the long run it will lose public trust, institutional credibility, and moral standing. And this is a cost that not only Trump, but American society as a whole—and the global political order—will inevitably be forced to pay.
Promoting a video that depicts Barack and Michelle Obama as non-human primates isn’t a joke. It isn’t satire or an accident. It’s the oldest racist smear in the book. If you can’t bring yourself to condemn something this overtly racist, where exactly is your line?
I’ve been talking into microphones since I did the morning news on WITL in Lansing Michigan in the late 1960s, and I’ve seen a lot of ugly moments in American politics. But every so often something happens that still takes your breath away, not because it’s surprising, but because it’s so painfully revealing.
This latest racist stunt by Donald Trump — reposting a meme on his Nazi-infested social media site in which the Obamas’ faces are superimposed onto the bodies of primates in the jungle set to the 1961 song “The Lion Sleeps Tonight” by The Tokens — is one of those moments.
That a popular pro-Trump account on X created this video and it has lived on that platform without consequence is disgusting in and of itself. But Trump — as our president, speaking in our voice — made it infinitely worse last night by promoting it to millions around the world.
Promoting a video that depicts Barack and Michelle Obama as non-human primates isn’t a joke. It isn’t satire or an accident. It’s the oldest racist smear in the book, dressed up in a cheap meme and now blasted out by a man who once swore an oath to preserve, protect, and defend the Constitution of the United States.

When the president of the United States does something like this, it doesn’t just insult two people. It tells a story about who, according to the most powerful man in the world, belongs in America and who doesn’t.
For centuries, racism in this country has relied on the lie that some people are less than human. That lie has been used to justify slavery, Jim Crow, lynchings, and mass incarceration.
It’s the lie that made it easier for people to look away while their neighbors were brutalized. It’s the lie that justifies ICE’s brutal, racist behavior. When Trump shares imagery that taps directly into that history, he’s not being edgy: he’s reopening wounds that never fully healed.
Pretending this doesn’t matter is how we normalize it and weaken our shared sense of humanity. And the end point of that is always disaster.
When the President of the United States signals that this kind of racism is acceptable, it gives permission to others. It tells the kid being harassed at school, the family being targeted by a hate group, and the voter being pushed out of the polling line that the cruelty they’re experiencing is justified. That it’s their own fault.
It tells the bullies and thugs of ICE as they do their “Kavanaugh Stops” — targeting people based on their race — that they’re on the right side of power.
This isn’t just about harm to minorities, although that harm is real and immediate. It’s about what happens to democracy itself when the presidency becomes a megaphone for dehumanization.
Democracy depends on the idea that we’re all political equals. Once you start suggesting that some Americans are animals, that idea collapses. It becomes easier to justify taking away voting rights, ignore court rulings, or shrug when violence follows hateful rhetoric.
I remember a time, during the era of Eisenhower and Kennedy, when the presidency stood as a kind of moral North Star. Even when presidents like Nixon and Clinton failed to live up to it, there was at least a shared understanding that the office itself mattered. That it should pull us together, not rip us apart.
Trump has spent years doing the opposite, from the 1970s when he was busted along with his father for refusing to rent to Black people to his recent use of words like “vermin” and “shitholes” to describe Hispanic and Black people and majority-Black countries. Last night’s post is another brutally clear example of Trump’s deep, lifelong racism.
What’s even more chilling is the silence from Republican leaders and elected officials. If you can’t bring yourself to condemn something this overtly racist, where exactly is your line?
Silence in moments like this isn’t neutrality: it’s complicity. It tells people of color in America, already dealing with the burden of centuries of institutional racism, that their pain is irrelevant and their dignity a plaything in the hands of white people.
I know some people will say we should ignore it, that reacting “just feeds the outrage machine.” Trump’s propaganda princess, Karoline Leavitt, tried to downplay it by telling reporters this morning:
“This is from an internet meme video depicting President Trump as the King of the Jungle and Democrats as characters from the Lion King. Please stop the fake outrage and report on something today that actually matters to the American public.”
But pretending this doesn’t matter is how we normalize it and weaken our shared sense of humanity. And the end point of that is always disaster.
As California Governor Gavin Newsome just posted:
“Disgusting behavior by the President. Every single Republican must denounce this. Now.”
“Denounce” is a bare minimum. This country can do better. We’ve done better before, often after terrible struggle and sacrifice.
But we won’t get there by minimizing moments like this or waving them off as “just another Trump post.” We get there by calling it what it is, by standing up for one another as equals in our humanity, and by insisting that the presidency must reflect our highest ideals, not our ugliest instincts.
If this doesn’t provoke the 13 white billionaires in Trump’s cabinet — who would all instantly fire anybody in any of their companies who posted such an image on their company’s servers — to start 25th Amendment proceedings or endorse impeachment, it’ll tell us everything about who they are, too.
America is stronger when we recognize each other as fully human. The moment we let that slip, we all lose something precious.
"The most foundational racist idea is likening Black people to apes," said Howard University historian Ibram X. Kendi.
President Donald Trump, a documented racist, drew swift condemnation on Friday night after he posted a video on his Truth Social account depicting former President Barack Obama and first lady Michelle Obama as monkeys.
As reported by The Guardian, the racist depiction of the Obamas was part of a longer video that featured "false and disproven claims that ballot-counting company Dominion Voting Systems helped steal the 2020 presidential election" from Trump.
The outrage over the post was immediate, even as Trump's racism is well known and documented over many years.
"The most foundational racist idea is likening Black people to apes," said Howard University historian Ibram X. Kendi in a social media post. "Since humans evolved from an ape-like ancestor, racist ideas cast white people as the most evolved people and the furthest away on the evolutionary scale from apes. Racist ideas cast Black people as the least evolved people and the closest on the evolutionary scale to apes. Almost all racist ideas build on this foundational one expressed by Trump."
A screenshot of the video Trump shared:

Tom Jocelyn, senior fellow at the Reiss Center on Law and Security, predicted how Trump and his allies would defend his promotion of obvious racism.
"Let’s call out a game Trump and MAGA play," he wrote. "1. Trump posts, says or does something racist. 2. Some point out it’s racist. 3. Trump (with MAGA’s help) pretends to be the victim for being called a racist. MAGA stews in its imaginary grievances. 4. Rinse and repeat."
Mark Jacob, former metro editor at the Chicago Tribune, called out the New York Times for writing that it was "unclear if Mr. Trump was aware" that the racist depiction of the Obamas "had been included in the video before he shared it."
"What the hell is the New York Times doing?" he asked. "In its article on Trump posting a video that included a clip of the Obamas as apes, NYT tries to help him come up with an excuse."
Ben Rhodes, former deputy national security adviser under Obama, argued that Trump's post was yet another sign that he will be remembered as a deeply loathsome historical figure.
"Let it haunt Trump and his racist followers that future Americans will embrace the Obamas as beloved figures," he wrote, "while studying him as a stain on our history."
Even Trump allies such as Sens. Tim Scott (R-SC) and Roger Wicker (R-Miss.) demanded the president take down the racist video.
"Praying it was fake because it’s the most racist thing I’ve seen out of this White House," wrote Scott. "The President should remove it."
"This is totally unacceptable," wrote Wicker. "The president should take it down and apologize."
While crucial terrain upon which we must maneuver strategically, true systemic change will not come through electoral politics alone, particularly within a party fundamentally wedded to capitalist interests.
In her impassioned speech at the 2024 Democratic National Convention, Michelle Obama struck a chord with many progressives when she urged Democratic voters to overcome their "Goldilocks complex" regarding Kamala Harris's electability. "We cannot indulge our anxieties about whether this country will elect someone like Kamala, instead of doing everything we can to get someone like Kamala elected," she declared, addressing concerns about Harris's racial background and gender.
While Obama's call to action was inspiring for many, it inadvertently highlighted a much deeper and more problematic Goldilocks complex within progressive circles—perpetually searching for the "just right" Democratic politician who can somehow thread the needle between radical change and mainstream acceptability. This futile quest, exemplified by the enthusiasm for figures like Kamala Harris or even more avowedly left wing politicians such as Bernie Sanders and Alexandria Ocasio-Cortez, leads to a cycle of hope and disappointment as each new "progressive" candidate inevitably compromises their ideals upon gaining power.
The fundamental flaw in this approach is the misguided belief that true systemic change can come through electoral politics alone, particularly within a party fundamentally wedded to capitalist interests. By fixating on finding the perfect candidate to address issues like authoritarianism, inequality, imperialism, war, discrimination, and climate change, progressives block themselves from recognizing that elections should be just one tactical part of a broader strategy for social and economic transformation. This myopic focus prevents the development of alternative structures and intersectional movements necessary for genuine socialist change. While strategic engagement with centrist parties may sometimes be necessary as a defensive measure against far-right authoritarianism, progressives must abandon the delusion that internal reform of capitalist parties can ever be sufficient.
True opposition to authoritarianism requires, thus, more than just rhetorical condemnation or appeals to defend existing democratic institutions. It demands a positive vision of a more just and equitable society, coupled with concrete actions to address the material conditions that make authoritarianism attractive to many.
Real progress demands building grassroots organizations, reinvigorating labor movements, creating mutual aid networks, and fostering broad coalitions that address the interconnected nature of various forms of oppression. Only by letting go of the Goldilocks complex and embracing the challenging work of building socialist alternatives can progressives move beyond the cycle of electoral disappointment and begin to address the true scale of the challenges we face, working towards a future of genuine freedom, equality, and sustainability for all.
The Democratic Party, despite its occasional progressive rhetoric, remains fundamentally wedded to the capitalist system that perpetuates many of the issues progressives seek to address. While figures like Kamala Harris may represent important symbolic victories in terms of representation, their policies often fall far short of the radical changes needed to tackle the root causes of our societal problems. Democratic administrations have consistently failed to deliver meaningful change in areas such as economic inequality, climate change, healthcare, foreign policy, and criminal justice reform. These failures stem not from a lack of good intentions, but from the inherent limitations of working within a system designed to prioritize profit and maintain existing power structures.
The progressive Goldilocks complex manifests in the perpetual search for the perfect capitalist politician who can somehow thread the needle between radical change and mainstream acceptability. This quest has led to a cycle of hope and disappointment, as each new "progressive" candidate inevitably compromises their ideals upon gaining power. From Bill Clinton's "Third Way" to Barack Obama's "Hope and Change" to the more recent progressive insurgency within the Democratic Party, each iteration has promised transformative change while ultimately reinforcing the status quo. This pattern persists because the fundamental contradictions of capitalism cannot be resolved through electoral politics alone.
The allure of finding the "just right" capitalist politician is understandable. It offers the promise of change without the messy and challenging work of building alternative structures and movements. However, this approach ultimately serves to co-opt progressive energy and redirect it into supporting a system that is inherently opposed to true economic and social justice.
To break free from the Goldilocks complex, progressives must recognize that the solutions to our most pressing problems lie outside the confines of capitalist politics. This doesn't mean abandoning electoral engagement entirely, but rather understanding its limitations and focusing on building alternative structures and movements.
Key areas where progressives should focus their efforts include grassroots organizing, reinvigorating labor movements, creating mutual aid networks, developing educational initiatives, establishing cooperative enterprises, and building intersectional coalitions. By focusing on these areas, progressives can begin to build the infrastructure and popular support necessary for genuine systemic change.
Recognizing the limitations of centrist capitalist parties does not mean completely disengaging from electoral politics. In fact, socialists and progressives must often make strategic decisions to support centrist candidates as a bulwark against far-right authoritarianism. The rise of fascist and authoritarian movements around the world presents a clear and present danger that cannot be ignored. In this context, supporting centrist parties can be a necessary defensive measure to preserve democratic spaces and prevent the implementation of even more repressive policies.
However, this support must be tactical and conditional, never losing sight of the ultimate goal of systemic transformation. Progressives should view engagement with centrist parties as a means of buying time and space to build alternative structures and movements, not as an end in itself.
One of the most persistent manifestations of the Goldilocks complex is the belief that centrist capitalist parties can be internally reformed to enact the type of change needed to address our most pressing challenges. This belief has led many progressives to invest enormous energy in trying to "push the party left" through primary challenges, platform fights, and grassroots pressure. While these efforts can sometimes yield modest policy gains, they ultimately fail to address the structural limitations of parties beholden to corporate interests and wedded to capitalist ideology.
The rise of authoritarian populism that centrist parties so vocally deplore is itself a symptom of the failures of neoliberal capitalism. The economic insecurity, social atomization, and loss of faith in institutions that fuel right-wing movements are direct consequences of policies championed by both center-left and center-right parties over the past several decades.
The path forward for progressives lies not in finding the perfect capitalist politician or party, but in building broad, intersectional movements for socialist change. These movements must recognize the interconnected nature of various forms of oppression and exploitation, and work to address them collectively.
Crucial elements of such movements include centering a critique of capitalism and class exploitation while recognizing how it intersects with other forms of oppression, actively combating racial oppression, incorporating feminist perspectives, fighting for environmental justice, advocating for LGBTQ+ rights, incorporating disability justice, and opposing imperialism. By building movements that address these intersecting issues, progressives can create a powerful force for systemic change that goes beyond the limitations of capitalist electoral politics.
Building strong progressive movements serves a dual purpose: it enhances our ability to pressure mainstream political parties while simultaneously creating a bulwark against the rise of far-right extremism. By focusing on grassroots organizing, labor mobilization, and community-based initiatives, progressives can cultivate a power base that exists independently of electoral cycles.
This independent power allows progressives to approach political engagement from a position of strength. Rather than relying solely on internal party mechanisms or the charisma of individual candidates, a well-organized movement can exert external pressure on parties to adopt more progressive policies. The threat of withholding votes or mounting primary challenges becomes more credible when backed by a mobilized base.
Moreover, these movements create alternative spaces for political engagement and community building. By addressing immediate needs through mutual aid networks and fostering solidarity through shared struggle, progressive movements can offer a compelling counter-narrative to the alienation and resentment that often fuel far-right recruitment.
This grassroots approach is crucial in challenging the far-right at its source. By being present and active in communities, progressive movements can directly confront the economic anxieties and social dislocations that right-wing populists exploit. They can offer concrete solutions and a sense of collective agency that undermines the appeal of authoritarian demagogues.
True opposition to authoritarianism requires, thus, more than just rhetorical condemnation or appeals to defend existing democratic institutions. It demands a positive vision of a more just and equitable society, coupled with concrete actions to address the material conditions that make authoritarianism attractive to many.
As we confront the enormous challenges of our time—from climate change to rising authoritarianism to deepening inequality—progressives must abandon the Goldilocks complex that leads us to seek salvation in slightly better versions of the status quo. This doesn't mean completely disengaging from electoral politics or ignoring the real dangers posed by far-right movements. Strategic engagement with centrist parties can sometimes be necessary as a defensive measure. However, progressives must never lose sight of the fact that these parties are structurally incapable of addressing the root causes of our current crises. Their solutions not in finding the perfect capitalist savior, but in our collective power to imagine and create a fundamentally different kind of society.
While you won't see former president Barack Obama appearing at any town halls or any public events as the Democrats seek to oust Donald Trump from the White House, you can, if you can afford it, see him in a series of rooms - ballrooms, conference rooms, small theaters - talking to donors about what he thinks everyone else is doing wrong. His exasperation has found several targets at these private events, from the young activists he accused of just being mad online to the old white men running for office he accused of "not getting out of the way".
At this latest event in Singapore, Obama announced that women were "indisputably" better leaders than men. If the whole world was run by women, Obama speculated, "you would see a significant improvement across the board on ... living standards and outcomes."
While potentially opening himself up to a million hate tweets by Hillary Clinton supporters still upset about 2008 and 2016, the comments seem pointed at one old white man in particular: Bernie Sanders.
There are two old white men in running for the nomination: Sanders and his good ole pal best bud forever, Joe Biden. The billionaires Michael Bloomberg and Tom Steyer don't count here because I'm not convinced they're not both Spider-Man villains. And while Obama's withholding of an official endorsement for his former vice-president does seem pointed, the more likely target of his continued frustration is Sanders.
Just last month, it was reported by Politico that Obama had privately spoken about the Vermont senator seeking the Democratic presidential nomination, saying that while he is mostly taking a hands off approach to the primary, if Sanders started to win he would "speak up to stop him".
What makes this latest statement even odder is that there is no clear candidate he could be supporting with his championing of women leaders. Elizabeth Warren is the highest woman in the polls, but his administration was excessively antagonistic toward her back when she was pushing for them to create the Consumer Financial Protection Bureau. It's unlikely a lovefest will develop between the two now.
Maybe it was just vague virtue signalling and scoring easy points with centrist feminists? Just another bland platitude they can slap on a T-shirt and sell on Etsy? It would be boring to list all of the women leaders who would immediately disprove Obama's claims about women leaders. Margaret Thatcher! Imelda Marcos! We gave Aung San Suu Kyi both a Nobel peace prize and a whole U2 song about her and even that couldn't keep her from committing crimes against humanity. It's almost--almost--like the real problem here is power and its morally corrupting qualities and not who is doing the wielding of it.
The Obama legacy is still in flux. He exited the White House with a rosy glow, and in the early days of the Trump administration, one could easily look back at the Obama administration with a nostalgic longing for its dignity, its lack of scandal and its "good" taste.
But as the offenses of the Trump administration mounted, from highly visible mass deportations to the Muslim ban to military interventions overseas, more and more people started to notice many of these policy positions were either started or continued by the Obamas.
Michelle Obama recently announced that she can be friends with the former president George W Bush because "our values are the same." People were outraged, but if you compare administrations, you start to see what those values they share truly are. They both valued waging war in foreign countries and supporting the removal of their leaders. They both valued prosecuting government whistleblowers and conducting massive surveillance against its own people. They both valued bailing out and subsidizing banks and corporations over citizens.
Many of the candidates for the Democratic nominee also share these values, from Pete "Definitely Not CIA" Buttigieg to Amy "We Can't Have Nice Things" Klobuchar to Elizabeth "Good Capitalist" Warren. Of course he'd be maneuvering against the one candidate who values different things, like economic justice and fewer deaths from people who can't afford their medically necessary insulin.
Or maybe the Obamas just saw on Wikipedia that their net worth is somewhere around $70m, and they're trying to avoid paying Sanders's wealth tax. Either way, .
Discrimination against some women is "necessary" to protect other women, according to the Court of Arbitration for Sport's ruling in the Caster Semenya case.
The CAS' decision comes in a challenge to the International Association of Athletics Federations' regulations for athletes with differences of sex development brought by Semenya, the Black South African runner who produces more testosterone naturally than has been deemed typical of cisgender women. The regulations that Semenya challenged would require her to artificially suppress her hormone levels in order to continue to compete in women's events. In the executive summary of the still-confidential full decision, the court explained that the "regulations are discriminatory but that ... such discrimination is a necessary."
Notably, the regulations and decision apply only to eight events -- three of which are the races that Semenya generally runs.
This decision comes during the current political moment of global attack against individuals who do not fit stereotypes of binary sexual difference, and after a long history of white authorities policing the bodies of women of color, particularly those Black and Indigenous women from the global south.
In other words, the CAS has decided that differential treatment for Black women, trans women and intersex women is required for athletic competitions to be "fair" to other women -- at least, it is under a system in which white people wield tremendous power over the bodies and autonomy of those who are perceived to be a threat. This decision comes during the current political moment of global attack against individuals who do not fit stereotypes of binary sexual difference, and after a long history of white authorities policing the bodies of women of color, particularly those Black and Indigenous women from the global south.
"I know that the IAAF's regulations have always targeted me specifically," Semenya said in a statement after the issuance of the decision. "For a decade, the IAAF has tried to slow me down, but this has actually made me stronger."
She added, "The decision of the CAS will not hold me back. I will once again rise above and continue to inspire young women and athletes in South Africa and around the world."
Many people reacting to the decision have mischaracterized Semenya's identity, calling her transgender (she is not) or male (she is not). She is a non-transgender woman who produces more testosterone than some percentage of other non-transgender women.
As Katrina Karkazis explained in a Guardian column in March, "Labeling women 'biological males' draws a dubious connection between sex, testosterone and athleticism that relies on long-discarded ideas that men and women can have a 'true sex,' that testosterone is a 'male sex hormone' and that testosterone is the key to superior athleticism. None of these are true, and it's long overdue that people stop saying they are."
The idea that you can identify a single physiological trait that neatly separates two binary sexes is simply false and serves the very structures of patriarchy and white supremacy that are used to attack powerful Black women (cisgender and transgender) who are perceived to trespass on the spaces that people want to reserve for white women.
The idea that you can identify a single physiological trait that neatly separates two binary sexes is simply false and serves the very structures of patriarchy and white supremacy that are used to attack powerful Black women.
Bodies are often coded as appropriately "male" or appropriately "female" through a lens of racism and white supremacy. And that lens is used to police some bodies in the alleged service of others: Just google "Serena Williams" or "Michelle Obama" alongside anti-transgender slurs to see how Black bodies and trans bodies are policed out of the category of "woman."
This deliberate narrative about testosterone and "maleness" is used to hurt both Black cisgender women like Semenya and all transgender women who are being systematically excluded from women's spaces and categories. Caster Semenya is not a man: She is a Black woman runner who is being subject to repeated public scrutiny and invasive bodily regulation because she disrupts expectations.
As Nation Sports editor Dave Zirin points out, "arguments about who is really 'female' have been used against women athletes for as long as women have played sports." These efforts to define some female athletes out of the category of "woman" have been leveraged particularly against Black women.
The CAS decision is part of an escalating narrative that some women threaten the integrity of the category of "woman" altogether. For instance, former elite athletes in the United States and the United Kingdom have mobilized to oppose legislative and other protections for transgender women, falsely claiming that they will mark the end of women's athletics. These claims inaccurately compare transgender women to non-transgender men, ignore the history of trans participation in sport with no dominance whatsoever and open the door to widespread attacks on the trans community by claiming that our bodies inherently threaten others.
The search for a true, binary, biological sex in each individual is, in truth, both futile and dangerous. The imperatives behind these searches are almost always exclusionary in nature and greatly misapprehend the extent to which our bodies and physiological characteristics are affected by our experiences in the world.
The idea, for example, that a woman who is transgender is equal to a non-transgender man is patently false. In addition to the many medical changes that some people undergo to align their bodies and hormone levels with those typical of their lived gender, how we experience both trauma and social engagement in the world greatly impact our bodily function. It is why and how, at the population level, life expectancy is so varied across race, class and geographic lines.
Existing systems of power may only approve of some women as "women" and attempt to write people deemed insufficiently male or female out of spaces in varying ways. But we can all only survive as our authentic selves -- and so we will keep fighting to exist in our full truths, however inconvenient those truths may be to those who want to keep power (and medals) only for themselves.
Despair about the state of our politics pervades the political spectrum, from left to right. One source of it, the narrative of fairness offered in basic civics textbooks -- we all have an equal opportunity to succeed if we work hard and play by the rules; citizens can truly shape our politics -- no longer rings true to most Americans. Recent surveys indicate that substantial numbers of them believe that the economy and political system are both rigged. They also think that money has an outsized influence on politics. Ninety percent of Democrats hold this view, but so do 80% of Republicans. And careful studies confirm what the public believes.
None of this should be surprising given the stark economic inequality that now marks our society. The richest 1% of American households currently account for 40% of the country's wealth, more than the bottom 90% of families possess. Worse yet, the top 0.1% has cornered about 20% of it, up from 7% in the mid-1970s. By contrast, the share of the bottom 90% has since then fallen from 35% to 25%. To put such figures in a personal light, in 2017, three men -- Jeff Bezos, Warren Buffett, and Bill Gates -- possessed more wealth ($248.5 billion) than the bottom 50% of Americans.
Over the last four decades, economic disparities in the U.S. increased substantially and are now greater than those in other wealthy democracies. The political consequence has been that a tiny minority of extremely wealthy Americans wields disproportionate influence, leaving so many others feeling disempowered.
What Money Sounds Like
Two recent headline-producing scandals highlight money's power in society and politics.
The first involved super-affluent parents who used their wealth to get their manifestly unqualified children into highly selective colleges and universities that previously had reputations (whatever the reality) for weighing the merits of applicants above their parents' wealth or influence.
The second concerned Texas Senator Ted Cruz's reported failure to reveal, as election laws require, more than $1 million in low-interest loans that he received for his 2012 Senate campaign. (For that lapse, the Federal Election Commission (FEC) fined Senator Cruz a modest $35,000.) The funds came from Citibank and Goldman Sachs, the latter his wife's longtime employer. News of those undisclosed loans, which also cast doubt on Cruz's claim that he had funded his campaign in part by liquidating the couple's assets, only added to the sense that favoritism now suffuses the politics of a country that once prided itself on being the world's model democracy. (Journalists covering the story couldn't resist pointing out that the senator had often lambasted Wall Street's "crony capitalism" and excessive political influence.)
The Cruz controversy is just one reflection of the coming of 1% politics and 1% elections to America at a moment when the first billionaire has been ensconced in the Oval Office for more than two years, posing as a populist no less.
Since the Supreme Court's 2010 ruling in Citizens United v. Federal Election Commission, money has poured into politics as never before. That's because the Court ruled that no limits could be placed on corporate and union spending aimed at boosting or attacking candidates running for political office. Doing so, the justices determined in a 5-4 vote, would be tantamount to restricting individuals' right to free speech, protected by the First Amendment. Then came the Court's 2014 McCutcheon v. Federal Election Commission decision (again 5-4), which only increased money's influence in politics by removing the aggregate limit on an individual's contribution to candidates and to national party committees.
In an age when money drives politics, even ex-presidents are cashing in. Fifteen years after Bill Clinton departed the White House, he and Hillary had amassed a net worth of $75 million -- a 6,150% increase in their wealth. Barack and Michelle Obama's similarly soared from $1.3 million in 2000 to $40 million last year -- and they're just warming up. Key sources of these staggering increases include sky-high speaking fees (often paid by large corporations), including $153 million for the Clintons between February 2001 and May 2016. George W. Bush also made tens of millions of dollars in this fashion and, in 2017, Obama received $400,000 for a single speech to a Wall Street firm.
No wonder average Americans believe that the political class is disconnected from their day-to-day lives and that ours is, in practice, a democracy of the rich in which money counts (and counts and counts).
Cash for College
Now let's turn to what those two recent scandals tell us about the nexus between wealth and power in America.
First, the school scam. Parents have long hired pricey tutors to coach their children for the college admissions tests, sometimes paying them hundreds of dollars an hour, even $1,500 for 90 minutes of high-class prep. They've also long tapped their exclusive social and political connections to gin up razzle-dazzle internships to embellish those college applications. Anyone who has spent as much time in academia as I have knows that this sort of thing has been going on for a long time. So has the practice of "legacy admissions" -- access to elite schools especially for the kids of alumni of substantial means who are, or might prove to be, donors. The same is true of privileged access to elite schools for the kids of mega-donors. Consider, for instance, that $2.5 million donation Charles Kushner made to Harvard in 1998, not long before his son Jared applied. Some of the folks who ran Jared's high school noted that he wasn't exactly a whiz-bang student or someone with sky-high SAT scores, but -- surprise! -- he was accepted anyway.
What's new about the recent revelations is that they show the extent to which today's deep-pocketed helicopter parents have gone into overdrive, using brazen schemes to corrupt the college admissions process yet more. One unnamed parent spent a cool $6.5 million to ensure the right college admitted his or her child. Others paid hefty amounts to get their kids' college admissions test scores falsified or even hired proxies to take the tests for them. Famous actors and financial titans made huge payments to university sports coaches, who then lied to admissions officers, claiming that the young applicants were champions they had recruited in sports like water polo, crew, or tennis. (The kids may have known how to swim, row, or play tennis, but star athletes they were not.)
Of course, as figures on the growing economic inequality in this country since the 1970s indicate, the overwhelming majority of Americans lack the connections or the cash to stack the deck in such ways, even assuming they would do so. Hence, the public outrage, even though parents generally understand that not every aspirant can get into a top school -- there aren't enough spots -- just as many know that their childrens' future happiness and sense of fulfillment won't depend on whether they attend a prestigious college or university.
Still, the unfairness and chicanery highlighted by the admissions scandal proved galling, the more so as the growing crew of fat cats corrupting the admissions process doubtless also preach the gospel of American meritocracy. Worse, most of their kids will undoubtedly present their fancy degrees as proof that quality wins out in our society, never mind that their starting blocks were placed so far ahead of the competition.
To add insult to injury, the same parents and children may even portray admissions policies designed to help students who lack wealth or come from underrepresented communities as violations of the principles of equal opportunity and fairness, democracy's bedrock. In reality, students from low-income families, or even those of modest means, are startlingly less likely to be admitted to top private universities than those from households in the top 10%. In fact, applicants from families in the top 1% are now 77 times more likely than in the bottom 20% to land in an elite college, and 38 of those schools admit more kids from families in that top percentage than from the bottom 60%.
Buying Politics (and Politicians), American-Style
Now, let's return to the political version of the same -- the world in which Ted Cruz swims so comfortably. There, too, money talks, which means that those wealthy enough to gain access to, and the attention of, lawmakers have huge advantages over others. If you want political influence, whether as a person or a corporation, having the wealth needed to make big campaign contributions -- to individuals or groups -- and to hire top-drawer lobbyists makes a world of difference.
Official data on the distribution of family income in the United States show that the overwhelming majority of Americans can't play that game, which remains the preserve of a tiny super-rich minority. In 2015, even with taxes and government-provided benefits included, households in the lowest 20% accounted for only about 5% of total income. Their average income -- not counting taxes and government-provided assistance -- was only $20,000. The share of the bottom 50% -- families making $61,372 or less -- dropped from 20% to 12% between 1978 and 2015. By contrast, families in the top 1% earned nearly 50% of total income, averaging $215,000 a year -- and that's only income, not wealth. The super-rich have plenty of the latter, those in the bottom 20% next to none.
Before we proceed, a couple of caveats about money and political clout. Money doesn't always prevail. Candidates with more campaign funds aren't guaranteed victory, though the time politicians spend raising cash leaves no doubt that they believe it makes a striking difference. In addition, money in politics doesn't operate the way simple bribery does. The use of it in pursuit of political influence works more subtly, and often -- in the new era opened by the Supreme Court -- without the slightest need to violate the law.
Still, in Donald Trump's America, who would claim that money doesn't talk? If nothing else, from inaugural events -- for Trump's inaugural $107 million was raised from a host of wealthy donors with no limits on individual payments, 30 of which totaled $1 million or more -- to gala fundraisers, big donors get numerous opportunities to schmooze with those whose campaigns they've helped bankroll. Yes, there's a limit -- currently $5,600 -- on how much any individual can officially give to a single election campaign, but the ultra-wealthy can simply put their money into organizations formed solely to influence elections as well as into various party committees.
Individuals, companies, and organizations can, for instance, give money to political action committees (PACs) and Super PACs. Though bound by rules, both entities still have lots of leeway. PACs face no monetary limits on their independent efforts to shape elections, though they can't accept corporate or union money or take more than $5,000 from individuals. They can provide up to $5,000 to individual election campaigns and $15,000 per party committee, but there's no limit on what they can contribute in the aggregate. Super PACs have far more running room. They can rake in unlimited amounts from a variety of sources (as long as they're not foreign) and, like PACs, can spend limitless sums to shape elections, providing they don't give money directly to candidates' campaigns.
Then there are the dark money groups, which can receive financial contributions from any source, American or foreign. Though their primary purpose is to push policies, not individual campaigns, they can engage in election-related work, provided that no more than half their funds are devoted to it. Though barred from donating to individual campaigns, they can pour unlimited money into Super PACs and, unlike PACs and Super PACs, don't have to disclose who gave them the money or how much. Between 2008 and 2018, dark money groups spent $1 billion to influence elections.
In 2018, 2,395 Super PACs were working their magic in this country. They raised $1.6 billion and spent nearly $809 million. Nearly 78% of the money they received came from 100 donors. They, in turn, belonged to the wealthiest 1%, who provided 95% of what those Super PACs took in.
As the 2018 congressional elections kicked off, the four wealthiest Super PACs alone had $113.4 million on hand to support candidates they favored, thanks in substantial measure to business world donors. In that election cycle, 31 individuals ponied up more than $5 million apiece, while contributions from the top four among them ranged from almost $40 million to $123 million.
The upshot: if you're running for office and advocate policies disliked by wealthy individuals or by companies and organizations with lots of cash to drop into politics, you know from the get-go that you now have a problem.
Wealth also influences political outcomes through the lobbying industry. Here again, there are rules, but even so, vast numbers of lobbyists and eye-popping amounts of lobbying money now are at the heart of the American political system. In 2018 alone, the 50 biggest lobbying outfits, largely representing big companies, business associations, and banks, spent $540 million, and the grand total for lobbying that year alone was $3.4 billion.
Nearly 350 of those lobbyists were former legislators from Congress. Officials departing from senior positions in the executive branch have also found artful ways to circumvent presidential directives that prohibit them from working as lobbyists for a certain number of years.
Do unions and public interest groups also lobby? Sure, but there's no contest between them and corporations. Lee Drutman of the New America think tank notes that, for every dollar the former spent in 2015, corporate donors spent $34. Unsurprisingly, only one of the top 20 spenders on lobbying last year was a union or a public-interest organization.
The sums spent by individual companies to gain political influence can be breathtaking. Take now-embattled Boeing. It devoted $15 million to lobbying in 2018 -- and that's not counting its campaign contributions, using various channels. Those added another $8.4 million in the last two-and-a-half years. Yet Boeing only placed 11th among the top 20 corporate spenders on lobbying last year. Leading the pack: the U.S. Chamber of Commerce at $94.8 million.
Defenders of the status quo will warn that substantially reducing money's role in American politics is sure to threaten democracy and civil liberties by ceding undue power to the state and, horror of horrors, putting us on the road to "socialism," the right wing's bogeyman du jour. This is ludicrous. Other democracies have taken strong steps to prevent economic inequality from subverting their politics and haven't become less free as a result. Even those democracies that don't limit political contributions have adopted measures to curb the power of money, including bans on television ads (a huge expense for candidates in American elections: $3 billion in 2018 alone just for access to local stations), free airtime to allow competitors to disseminate their messages, and public funds to ease the financial burden of election campaigns. Compared to other democracies, the United States appears to be in a league of its own when it comes to money's prominence in politics.
Those who favor continuing business as usual like to point out that federal "matching funds" exist to help presidential candidates not be steamrolled by competitors who've raised mounds of money. Those funds, however, do no such thing because they come with stringent limits on total spending. Candidates who accept matching funds for a general election cannot accept contributions from individuals. Moreover, matching funds are capped at $20 million, which is a joke considering that Barack Obama and Mitt Romney spent a combined $1.2 billion in individual contributions alone during the 2012 presidential election. (Super PACs spent another $350 million to help Romney and $100 million to back Obama.)
A New American Tradition?
Rising income inequality, wage stagnation, and slowing social mobility hurt ordinary Americans economically, even as they confer massive social and political advantages on the mega-rich -- and not just when it comes to college admissions and politics either.
Even the Economist, a publication that can't be charged with sympathy for left-wing ideas, warned recently of the threat economic inequality poses to the political agency of American citizens. The magazine cited studies showing that, despite everything you've heard about the power of small donations in recent political campaigns, 1% of the population actually provides a quarter of all the money spent on politics by individuals and 80% of what the two major political parties raise. Thanks to their wealth, a minuscule economic elite as well as big corporations now shape policies, notably on taxation and expenditure, to their advantage on an unprecedented scale. Polls show that an overwhelming majority of Americans support stricter laws to prevent wealth from hijacking politics and want the Citizens United ruling overturned. But then just how much does the voice of the majority matter? Judging from the many failed efforts to pass such laws, not much.
Many parents cheered about 10 years ago when Michelle Obama took on the important task of improving school meals. Of course, every child should have a healthy lunch and breakfast. Most of us have school cafeteria stories; I still remember the feeling of failure I had decades ago when I realized my daughters never had time to eat more than their dessert before joining the stampede for recess.
Ms. Obama's work -- and the work of many other concerned parents, teachers and staff--sparked significant improvements in school menus, some of which are now being undone by the current administration (allowing children to eat food with more salt and less whole grain). Schools must once again take another step forward.
If you haven't met glyphosate (Roundup) yet, allow me to introduce you. Glyphosate is the most widely used pesticide in the US. Its use has skyrocketed during the last 20 years because of the popularity of genetically-modified crops that are tolerant of this weedkiller. Health concerns about glyphosate have also skyrocketed since 2015, when the World Health Organization evaluated its ability to cause cancer.
The above graph was created by the Center for Environmental Health using data from the study "Trends in glyphosate herbicide use in the United States and globally," by Charles M. Benbrook.
Glyphosate's evaluation as a probable carcinogen is scary and was recently validated by a jury that awarded a school groundskeeper a multimillion-dollar judgment against Monsanto/Bayer because he had developed cancer after years of Roundup use. The decision has paved the way for thousands of other cancer patients and families to seek justice and compensation in court.
Glyphosate is now in most of us: Recent biomonitoring studies have detected it in the urine samples of 70 to 93 percent of the US population.
Even scarier, recent research has demonstrated that glyphosate can disrupt our body's hormones, those vital molecules that manage growth, development, behavior, sex and more.
Exposing children, with their developing bodies, to a chemical that can cause cancer and hormone dysfunction is wrong. It's especially wrong for children simply eating breakfast at school, who often are from low-income families. This fact has spurred the nonprofit Center for Environmental Health (CEH), where I serve as the senior scientist, to measure glyphosate contamination in breakfast cereals and bars served at schools. Although our study was small, the results were striking.
We found significant contamination in 70 percent of the products we tested, including big name brands like Quaker, whose glyphosate contamination more than six times the safety threshold developed by the Environmental Working Group (EWG) and Cheerios, whose glyphosate contamination was more than five times the EWG safety threshold.
Our findings corroborate a growing list of recent studies demonstrating the presence of glyphosate in children's foods, including preliminary findings by CEH in August, as well as those by the EWG, Moms Across America, Food Democracy Now and the Food and Drug Administration.
Because our study was small, and there is not much government testing of glyphosate contamination in popular grocery items, there may be other contaminated products at your school or grocery store. We just don't know. We did recently find glyphosate contamination in King Arthur bread flour. King Arthur is the fourth largest seller of flour in the country, consumed by approximately 16.61 million Americans this year. King Arthur's bread flour is used for more than just baking bread, the company also claims "it strengthens whole-grain pastries, makes cookies crispier, and when combined with all-purpose flour, creates chewier pizza crusts and more tender muffins." If we found it in commonly sold wheat flour, where else might it be?
Fortunately, there is a straightforward way to reduce the amount of glyphosate that our students consume. Certified organic foods are grown without glyphosate and the ones that we have tested are uncontaminated. Thus, we are asking schools to buy these organic cereals and bars. Some organic food is more expensive than conventionally grown food, but even a partial switch reduces the amount of this pesticide that students are eating and increases the market for organics, setting up the economies of scale that will lower prices.
Further, switching to organic cereals in the short term and advocating for stronger chemical regulation in the long term is beneficial to all eaters, especially people who are exposed to the highest levels of pesticides because of their work, such as groundskeepers and farmworkers.
What can parents do? Here are three steps to help protect you and your family:
Buy organic cereals for your family whenever they are affordable and available for you.
Ask your children's schools to add organic cereals to their menus. For advice about effective ways to do this, contact us at food@ceh.org.
Tell the CEO of General Mills to get rid of glyphosate in Cheerios and other cereal products by switching to organic oats. Children aren't test subjects and parents deserve warning labels.
Monsanto (now Bayer) made hundreds of millions of dollars in 2017 from herbicide sales. We need to demand a change. Cancer-causing chemicals do not belong in children's meals, whether served at home, at school or a child care center.
This article was produced by Earth | Food | Life, a project of the Independent Media Institute, and originally published by Truthout.
As I reflect on the controversies that plagued the Trump administration throughout 2018, the unforeseen political power plays that shocked our nation, and the party stalemates that unfolded like a suspense thriller between Democrats and Republicans, I must admit that I'm sitting on the edge of my seat waiting for the finale.
Donald Trump will undoubtedly face more scrutiny -- and maybe even impeachment -- as the Mueller investigation delivers blow after blow.
Meanwhile, as a Democratic-led House of Representatives prepares for its first day on the job, the Dems seem ready to rumble -- made evident in the testy recent exchange between Senate Democratic Leader Chuck Schumer, Democratic Speaker-elect Nancy Pelosi, and President Trump in the Oval Office.
I must admit that this all makes me a little giddy.
A standoff akin to when Luke Skywalker finally faces off with Darth Vader in the Star Wars saga would be the perfect end to what often feels like a reality TV show. Except this is America.
The slogan for Nike's ad campaign featuring Colin Kaepernick pretty much sums up what I expect in the new year: Believe in something, even if it means sacrificing everything. We must start believing and participating in a true democracy, and directly confront everything that undermines it.
We don't want "change" -- we want a revolution.
Politics must come with a backbone in 2019. No more Mr./Ms. Nice Liberal; the gloves are off. The people have spoken. We don't want "change" -- we want a revolution.
Democracy in its current iteration can no longer sustain us -- that's why Trump was elected in the first place. It's time for progressives to match the audacity of conservatives, but with greater humanity as an end goal instead of power and greed.
We're at a crossroads. As stakeholders in society, we can either continue to labor through the birthing pains of a more just and equitable nation, or continue down a rabbit hole that leads to God only knows where.
I'm personally ready for a different experience, even if uncertainty looms.
Subpoenas for Donald Trump's tax returns will most likely be issued, among other challenges to the administration. But I'm especially excited by a new wave of elected activists challenging the Democratic Party from within.
For instance, Representatives-elect Rashida Tlaib (D-MI) and Ilhan Omar (D-MN) have unapologetically voiced support of the Boycott, Divestment, and Sanctions campaign against the state of Israel for its use of U.S. tax dollars to occupy the Palestinian Territories. That's an open challenge to the party leadership.
Other activists are pushing for a Green New Deal, championed by Representative-elect Alexandria Ocasio-Cortez, to fight climate change and create jobs.
Such challenges even have Nancy Pelosi negotiating term limits to keep her role as House Speaker. That's a good thing.
Just as modern-day activists chant, "This Ain't Your Mama's Civil Rights Movement," the same mantra could be applied to the 116th Congress. Bold policies, direct actions, and a new guard will take center stage, and it's about time.
Conservatives have made it clear they're in it to win it. Lame-duck stunts like Wisconsin Republicans stripping elected Democrats of their ability to govern, and an earlier Oscar-worthy performance by Republican Senator Lindsay Graham championing the appointment of Brett Kavanaugh to the U.S. Supreme Court, are examples of how far conservatives will go.
As former First Lady Michelle Obama said, "When they go low, we go high." But if there's any hope of us restoring our values, "going high" doesn't mean you don't fight back. So, let's get ready to rumble!
Here are two numbers to chew on.
226 years. That's how long it's taken for this country to elect a woman like me to congress.
56 years. That's how long people like me have been able to vote.
Native Americans are the first inhabitants of this land. Yet we are one of the last groups recognized to vote and one of the last groups to have a representative in Congress. Native peoples gained nationwide access to voting rights only with the 1965 Civil Rights Act - which means my grandparents could not vote when they turned 18.
I remember when Ben Nighthorse Campbell was elected to the US Senate in 1992. A decade later I was walking the halls of the US Capitol as a young intern, and I remember seeing a photo of him sitting on a motorcycle. I thought to myself: "There he is. He's the one that made it. He represents us." He was my icon, because he was the only one.
Two and a half decades later, young Native women across the country now have new icons to look up to. Deb Haaland and Sharice Davids made history this week by becoming the first Native American women ever elected to Congress. That's right: the very first.
Deb is from the Laguna Pueblo and is a well-known member in the Albuquerque and Santa Fe communities for her civic engagement. She was also my moot court partner at the University of New Mexico School of Law. We spent countless hours reviewing mock briefs together and preparing for oral argument. She's one of the most incredible Native women I know, a dedicated, determined, and humble servant of the people. Within 48 hours of being elected, she immediately called for a probe for missing and murdered Indigenous women - a crisis in Indian Country that U.S. leaders have failed to take action on.
Congresswoman-elect Sharice Davids is a member of the Ho-Chunk Nation. Like me, she is a Native lesbian attorney. She made history this week by also being elected the first openly LGBT congressperson from the state of Kansas.
Close your eyes. Imagine for just a moment that you're me. It's 2018 and for the first time in history, people like you have been elected to Congress. Imagine how you'd feel if one of our highest bodies of leadership, a body designed to represent its constituents, suddenly included people like you when it never had before.
Remember when that photo went viral of Parker Curry standing in front of First Lady Michelle Obama's portrait at the National Portrait Gallery? I think I'm feeling something like what she felt in that moment. There was so much awe and wonder in little Parker's expression. I'm...a number... of years older than Parker was in that photo, but I find myself looking at images of Deb and Sharice and grinning just as wildly with excitement. Those images hold so much promise for me and other women and girls like me.
We all need the promise of mentors and leaders who look like us. These are the people paving the way for others, breaking the ceiling and laying the foundation for a better tomorrow. That's one of the reasons why communities like Standing Rock stood up to voter suppression in the 2018 election and quadrupled their voter turnout from 2014.
Did you catch that? Yes, voter suppression. 56 years after the Voting Rights Act was passed, and five years after it was undermined by the Supreme Court, and Native American communities are still subjected to the same type of pathetic, harmful, and racist limitations that were imposed on people like me just a generation ago.
If we want little girls of color to grow up believing that their vote matters, that they can rise to the highest office in the land - we have to prove it to them. Little girls of color across this country struggle to find a doll that looks like them much less a congressional representative. Little boys of color grow up taking in movies and TV shows that paint men of color as dangerous. We have to work for representation of all people and identities so that we can provide positive examples for little ones to grow into. To learn more about the power of seeing your identity reflected in the world around you, check out Unpacking the Invisible Knapsack by Peggy McIntosh.
As for me, I know that I'm going to be telling the story of Deb and Sharice next time I talk to my little nieces and cousins. I want them to know they can grow up to be anything they want to be.