When Lucille Clifton asks, “won’t you celebrate with me,” we answer yes. What does this Black woman decide when she finds no model for how to create her life? “what did i see but to be myself?” she responds. The poet fastens her hands and makes her life of “starshine and clay.” What does a boy from the staunchly-segregated south long to do before he dies? Jimmy Carter casts his ballot for Kamala Harris. Won’t you celebrate the 39th president with me?
Read MoreTogether, woven into a ragtag assembly, our eyes meet naturally and hold. Such sweet bedlam engulfs me for almost five hours. Not one raised voice, not even one—those leaving the tent and unable to get the vaccine nevertheless calmly detail the snafu and proudly show off their new appointment cards. No complaint, not one, from those in wheelchairs or dressed in shirtsleeves.
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We sit together. Jane Fonda and JB Pritzger deliver joint addresses for everyone everywhere. Their grasp of this dangerous moment and their abilities to communicate it—their mutual belief in the power of kindness and empathy to both endure and defeat tyranny. Fonda: “We are in our documentary moment. It is not a rehearsal…. So let’s be brave.” Pritzger: “The root that tears apart your house’s foundation begins as a seed…. Seeds of Nazis started with everyday Germans looking for someone to blame.”