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The Clapback Conundrum

August 17, 2019 by Tess Leave a Comment

We’re living through interesting times. Everything seems up for heated discussion, and facts are treated as dismissively as opinions in public and private discourse. That’s problematic enough all by itself, but it gets much worse, y’all.

Have you noticed that the number of folks who seem to relish watching the world burn appears to be radically increasing with each passing day? I’m not talking about the people you probably think I’m talking about. It’s definitely 100% accurate that we’re living in uber polarized times, making crossing the aisle one of the least popular things you can do at the moment. But when I talk about people stoking fires and keeping everyone from having nice things, I’m not talking about the folks on the other side of the sharp divide that cuts across every single issue percolating at the national and local levels. I’m talking about the people supposedly on our own side, if such a thing exists. Because, sometimes, it seems like these motherfuckers are actually on their own side, and their objective is to perpetually cut you down to size before you even finish a sentence.

I’m talking about what I’ve named the Clapback Conundrum, a knee jerk response that’s become all too prevalent nowadays. It mostly takes place on social media, where all good things go to turn putrid and mind numbingly tedious, but it’s happening with more regularity during day to day in person conversations as well. We’ve all seen the eye roll-inducing digital headlines:

X TORCHED Y!

Z Was DRAGGED On Twitter!

X’s EPIC CLAPBACK!

TWITTER FLAME WAR BETWEEN X AND Y!!!!!

It’s exhausting. But, sadly, it’s not just for celebrities and politicians with heightened name ID. It’s happening every day, in every facet of life.

Now, to be fair, not everyone is living a life fully engrossed in policy, politicians, campaigns, and issues based advocacy, but still.

Can we just agree to stop this utter nonsense? Can we stop trying to start flame wars and instead focus on defeating the very real threat looming over our heads in November 2020? The clock’s ticking, y’all, and we’re burning daylight. In case you hadn’t noticed, we’re fighting for the soul of the country over here, not gathered in a circle on the recess playground while 2 kids play the dozens.

Listen, I get it. You think you’re right. And not just right, but Right, objectively, with an uppercase R. But, let me ask you this: Do you want to be right? Or do you want to make things better? Do you want to save this country from slipping into the depths of a darkness so pitch black that not even the glittering flame of you brutally torching some ‘lesser progressive’ would help you find your way out again? Because we’re fighting to improve the American way of life for hundreds of millions of people right now, and I’m going to need you to get a handle on your shit and cut out the friendly fire.

Here’s the long and short of the Clapback Conundrum: we’re so worried about calling each other out that we don’t pay attention to the nuance of arguments and policy, just who flames who. It’s lazy and it’s part of the problem. While you’re busy calling me a centrist shill because I favor a Medicare For All Who Want It plan and you think anything less than Medicare For All makes me a detestable sellout, we have the party in control of the Executive Branch and one chamber of the Legislature actively trying to rip healthcare away from millions of people. Shouldn’t we be focusing on that? Or do you want to keep trying to light me up because I disagree with the method of getting to the exact same goal, which is healthcare for everyone? Spirited debate is great, and I’m here for it every day all day, but don’t fight me to the death on particulars when we agree on the end result.

And, FYI, arguing on social media doesn’t equate to doing any actual work. You aren’t changing hearts and minds by lighting up your allies on distinctions that make very little difference. And, honestly, you don’t need to change the hearts and minds of the people who already agree with you. We’re standing on the same side, friend, for chrissake. Stand down so we can stand united on our shared values and create the change you claim you want to see in the world.

The next year and a half is going to be hard enough without needing to cover my six as well as the absolute disaster forever unfolding in front of me. We can agree to disagree on the method without attempting to destroy each other, resorting to dismissive name calling, or taking our ball and going home where we’re absolutely no use to anyone. This country needs fighters, champions, grownups. Can we do that? Because, if not, buckle in for another four years of this unmitigated shitshow and know that you own it.

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Filed Under: Activism, Politics Tagged With: Democrats, elections, politics

Let’s Get Real About Identity Politics

March 5, 2019 by Tess 8 Comments

The 2020 race is heating up, at least on the left, and I’m already annoyed by much of the same lazy and disingenuous commentary that annoyed the hell out of me in 2016. I realize this means the next 18 months are going to be challenging (already planning to deploy ample amounts of selfcare until the election is safely behind us), but getting something straight right now should assist with the management of what is likely to be an overflowing pool of my highly combustible frustration.

Identity politics, at least as we have come to understand the term, is complete and utter bad faith bullshit.

Whenever I hear some white male politician decry the use of identity politics, I roll my eyes and consider writing this exact blog post, which I would then shout from the rooftops. According to these men, we should be dealing with the so-called kitchen table issues — like buoying the economy, protecting public education, or tackling rising healthcare costs — that affect everyday Americans, not pandering to ‘fringe issues’ like racial justice or ensuring reproductive rights. Why must we always turn the conversation to race and gender, these politicians exclaim, standing well above the fray on soapboxes constructed of white male privilege as the rest of us watch from below. There are so many other more pressing issues! Focusing on gender, on race, derails us from dealing with the real challenges facing this country and how we can fix them.

Ugh.

What if I told you that there’s such a thing as white identity politics too? Even white male identity politics? But because of the way issues have been historically framed, we’ve just gotten into the habit of calling that politics. Meanwhile, the rest of us get pushed to the margins right along with the issues that most deeply impact our communities. If we find the audacity to bring up these issues, we face massive pushback for daring to upset the apple cart of the white male political agenda as it rolls right over our backs.

Still not picking up what I’m putting down? Well, let’s come at this issue from a different direction.

How do you separate your color from what matters to you?

How do you forget your gender?

Because that’s what we’re being asked to do — separate who we are from the political conversation, as though such a thing is even possible.

I’m a black woman. Therefore, everything that happens in my life, everything I see and experience, the very way I move through the world, comes through the lens of being black and female. I can’t separate my blackness or the fact that I’m a woman from how I think about the issues that matter to me. There are, in fact, policies that affect me more because I’m black and/or a woman. That’s just the hand I was dealt at birth. And when I approach an issue, I’m bringing my unique perspective right along with me.

Despite what the bulk of history might urge us to believe, the situation is no different for white men. They see the world through a lens that is unique to them too, but the kicker is that they have made their lens the one through which all business gets done in the political sphere. They set the agenda. They get to judge what issues are important, and which ones will remain on the political periphery. The rest of us are just along for the ride…at least, that’s how it used to be. Times, as the folk philosopher Bob Dylan famously crooned, they are a-changin.

When I hear a white man complaining about the rise of so-called identity politics, I know that’s really code for the triggering of his insecurity at seeing folks who don’t look like him sitting around a table that used to only welcome those who matched his race and his gender. The country is changing, and power is becoming more equally distributed. We aren’t where we need to be yet, but we’ve certainly come a long way. The knee jerk reaction of those who used to hold all of the power is, of course, to find a way to cleave to that power, to hoard it as they’ve done since before the founding of this country. The only way to combat this is to continue adding diversity to the process.

As always, representation matters.

I can’t say it enough. More women are involved in politics, more people of color. Naturally, we are hearing more about the ways these communities are affected by various policies. We are hearing more about ways to dismantle racism in our institutions, how to deal with inequity in pay and rampant sexual harassment, and the need for a complete overhaul of our criminal justice system. Before people of color, women, LGBTQ folks, and the disabled were allowed to be part of the process, their voices and diverse perspectives were silenced. They had no true representation because they were perpetually kept on the edges of the discussion.

But that has changed.

Our voices are starting to be heard now that the number of representatives in government who look like us has increased. But because power is never freely given — it must be wrenched away from those who stockpile it — we are forced to deal with the inevitable backlash, which is this bullshit uproar over identity politics. The way this conversation is always framed makes it impossible to have it in good faith. Because the conditions in which we’re expected to converse involve the tacit acceptance that white men don’t have a racial identity. That they don’t identify as men. We’re expected to act as though everything isn’t about white men being white men all the time from the beginning of American history until the present day. We’ve been drowning in white male politics, y’all, and yet we’re asked to pretend that this has not been the case.

What’s vital is that we don’t lose sight of what’s truly at stake. Because the real issue is that the dominant group is watching as their stranglehold on power and policy slips, and that makes them uncomfortable. No one is pushing them from their seat at the table. We’re just setting down our folding chairs and joining them without waiting for an invitation. And now that we’re at the table, it’s harder to keep our voices from being heard.

All politics is identity politics, because it always comes through the lens of whoever is speaking. White, black, brown, gay, straight, trans, male, female, or nonbinary. There is no objective realm of politics. Every issue is personal. Every fight is a matter of life and death for someone. We’re richer when more voices contribute to the narrative because we’re all only seeing things through our own lenses. No one has an inherent right to decide which issues are ‘important’. Let’s stop pretending only certain people can be objective while the rest of us only care about our skin color, gender, disability, or sexual orientation. We’re all locked inside our own perspectives, which is why we need more diverse involvement in the process. Anything less is unacceptable.

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Filed Under: Activism, Politics Tagged With: feminism, politics, racism

Thankful AF

November 22, 2018 by Tess Leave a Comment

So, you’re sitting across the table from the aunt who voted for Trump and your nephew who might as well have been marching with a tiki torch down the streets of Charlottesville, wondering just what the hell you have to be thankful for this Thanksgiving. The country’s a dumpster fire of bigotry and ignorance and you can’t seem to escape the suffocating smell of everything you love going up in smoke…

I’m not here to tell you this country isn’t an absolute shit show, because it is. But, if it makes you feel any better, this is nothing new. It’s been a nonstop catastrophe since Columbus sailed the ocean blue and planted a flag in land that wasn’t actually up for grabs. Some of y’all are just now noticing for the first time. Things are getting better, though, slowly but surely as time marches on and more people start paying attention to what’s right in front of them.

This is honestly my favorite time of the year. Always has been. And the end of one year naturally leads to thinking about what the next one will bring. We had some tough election results here in Florida, but we also had some real wins. There’s so much work to do before the next cycle, but I actually feel hope for the future and what we can accomplish if we just get our shit together and keep it that way. So, today, because of the holiday and my enduring love of cliches, I’m going to name a few of the things for which I’m most thankful:

My Family

None of them voted for trump (PRAISE BE) and they’ve supported me throughout my entire life, including the last 2 crazy, action packed years. This campaign/activism life is a wild ride and I intend to keep seeing where it will take me. It’s good to know I have a soft place to fall and people who accept me, no matter what.

Friends Who Have Become Family

Y’all, making new friends as an introvert isn’t easy, but I’ve been waaaaay outside of my comfort zone since November 9th, 2016, and I can honestly say that actually leaving my house has led to meeting some of the hardest working, funniest, and best people around. These are folks I couldn’t imagine not knowing. They’ve enriched my life beyond what I thought possible. I’m honored to know them and to be in this fight together, shoulder to shoulder.

Doing What I Love and Loving What I Do

This sounds cheesy af, but it’s true. For the first time ever, I’m doing work that seems vital. Even when I’m too tired to bitch (admittedly, this is rare), I feel the importance of what I’m doing, and I can’t wait to see what the future holds.

The Victory of Amendment 4

We worked so hard all last year to gather petitions and get this initiative on the ballot. 1.4 million Floridians now have the right to vote back. I’m humbled to have played a small part in dismantling a system of disenfranchisement in the state of Florida that was a remnant of the Jim Crow era. This is game changing. It’s historic. We did this, y’all. All of us, together.

Having the Freedom to Fight for What Matters to Me

Not everyone has this privilege, and I cherish the fact that, though I have certain disadvantages in this country based on skin color and gender, I’m free to voice my opinion, to fight for what I believe in, and to work hard to champion causes that will make this country better for everyone. Those of us able to speak out, to fight, to work hard, need to keep doing it on behalf of those who can’t. That’s our duty, because the freedom to do so comes on the backs of people who risked everything. Honor them with action.

I’m not going to keep y’all, mostly because the smell of turkey roasting is making it hard to concentrate. My guide to living a good life is simple: hug those close to you, cherish those far away, practice selfcare as often as you can, challenge white supremacy, and fuck the patriarchy. This country is becoming a better place every day because of you, because of me, because of all of us. I’m thankful for that too.

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Filed Under: Activism, Politics Tagged With: activism, holidays, introvert life, politics, voting

On Losing and Hope, Pt. 2

November 7, 2018 by Tess 1 Comment

Here we are again, back at the drawing board.

Our minds are reeling from losses that feel like vicious assaults to common decency and essential fairness. Many of us are stunned and saddened. Others are furious. Still others feel set adrift on a churning sea of despair.

We’ve been here before — feeling lost and bewildered as half of the voters around us are celebrating a win for racism, for sexism, for bigotry in all its forms. Not to mention the danger these losses pose to the already fragile environment. Access to healthcare. Critical funding for public education. The list goes on, and just thinking about it makes our stomachs twist into knots and our bones grow heavy with sorrow. The thought of curling up in the fetal position and just giving up altogether is overwhelmingly appealing.

Here’s the thing: there is still so much hope.

You just have to look past the immediate, staggering losses in order to see it.

Here in Florida, more than 60% of Sunshine State voters passed Amendment 4, putting an end to the Jim Crow era lifetime voter disenfranchisement of former convicted felons. That opens the door to 1.5 million potential voters to join the rolls in time for the 2020 election cycle. In a state where gubernatorial and senate races are often won or lost by 1 percentage point, adding event fifteen percent of those brand spanking new voters could be a seismic shift to the electorate.

Nationwide, Democrats picked up enough congressional seats to give them the majority in the House.

I’m going to repeat that for those folks in the back:

DEMOCRATS NOW HAVE CONTROL OF THE HOUSE.

This is what we’ve been working for since November of 2016. It’s our check on the Executive Branch. No one expected us to win the Senate, but this win means we will set the agenda in the House, and nothing will get passed without Democratic support. No more rolling over us. Having the chambers split the way they are will force compromise, which is how government is supposed to work. No more winner takes all. Get ready for bipartisan legislation that will move our country forward. Or complete gridlock, which won’t bode well for you know who in 2020. This victory was a crippling blow to the Executive Branch and a big win for grassroots organizers everywhere.

Also, y’all, we elected over 100 women to the House for the first time ever. And many of them are women of color. Representation matters. Having more women at the table will prioritize issues that impact our communities. We need diversity of thought, of representation, of socioeconomic and cultural backgrounds. We are closer now than we’ve ever been to true representation in government, and that’s incredibly satisfying and uplifting.

Nothing about this work is fast or easy. As the old cliche goes, this is a marathon, not a sprint. Marathons are grueling. They take so much out of you and leave you wondering why in hell you are even bothering to do this in the first place. I can tell you why I’m bothering to do it: because I don’t have any other choice. As a black woman, these fights are personal. Any movement backwards puts people who look like me at immediate risk. But it’s not just about me. It’s about every marginalized group, every working class family, every child who deserves a quality public education, every senior who shouldn’t have to choose between their medication or their mortgage payment. We’re all at risk. That’s a lesson we learned the hard way in 2016.

I find motivation from looking backwards to those who fought harder than I could ever imagine. Those who risked their lives in the hopes that, one day, someone like me could have the opportunities that I enjoy without a second thought. I draw strength from their sacrifices and leadership. They didn’t give up when the cause for which they were fighting could literally cost them their lives. I’m not going to give up either.

History is a wheel, y’all. I see that more with every passing day. And change comes slowly…but we have to keep pushing for it. We have to keep shedding our blood, our sweat, our tears.

Take the time to lick your wounds, mourn your losses, learn from mistakes made and challenges not overcome. But celebrate the wins too. They are everywhere.

The first Muslim women elected to Congress. The first Native American women elected to Congress. The first openly gay governor. The first Democratic Latina governor. The first black woman elected to Congress from the state of Massachusetts. Guam’s first Democratic female governor. Texas’s first Latina Congresswomen. Iowa’s first ever women elected to Congress. We flipped seats nationwide, y’all, and put more women into positions of leadership and power. And we had real wins in our local races too. City, county, and state seats matter.

If you can’t see the hope yet, give yourself some time. But don’t stop looking for the light in the darkness. Find that light and hold it closely, because there’s so much work to be done.

I’m ready to get back to the hustle (after a day or two of Netflix binge watching and a nap). I don’t know where the hell this optimism comes from, but I feel it, and I know we need to get back to work. Nothing will change until we change it ourselves. This is our time.

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Filed Under: Activism, Politics Tagged With: activism, campaign life, politics, voting

To Those Spreading Light in These Dark Times

October 26, 2018 by Tess 2 Comments

For those hustling day in and day out to make this world a better place: this is for you.

Because you’re out there, knocking doors, making phone calls, building events that you pray don’t fold in on themselves like the delicate collection of blood, sweat, and tears that they are.

You’re perpetually MacGyvering something out of absolutely nothing, and getting media to cover it, spreading the word, the message, the hope so fragile you dare not speak of it aloud.

You’ve worked all year for this moment. And not just this year. Some of you have been working for decades.

This is the time away from your family, your friends, the quiet moments at home that help maintain your sanity.

You’ve pushed, prodded, cajoled, threatened, cried tears of joy, of sorrow, of despair. You’ve thrown up your hands, cursed, closed your eyes, dropped your aching head, and wondered why you’re still doing this.

But you haven’t given up.

You go onto the next house after one person slams the door in your face.

When the person on the line curses at you and hangs up, you make another call. And another. And another.

You watch precious days of planning, of work, of moments you can never get back, scatter like ashes in the wind, leaving you right back where you started.

And, still, you keep going.

The hustle lasts as long as your belief does. At the end of the night, that belief seems finite, but, in the morning, here it is again, waiting to be actualized as you down a few cups of coffee and head out to face another day that won’t be anything like the one before it. And tomorrow? Who the hell knows what those fresh hours will bring.

Breaking news hits the airwaves — a natural disaster, a curveball of a court ruling or Supreme Court appointment — and everything you painstakingly planned falls apart. You rebuild, stacking events on top of each other to create a workable schedule — the meet and greets, interviews, rallies, town halls, forums, meetings, fundraisers, canvasses, phonebanks, trainings, and teleconferences, the webinars you don’t even remember after they end. You send emails while you listen to another phone meeting, forever worrying about budgets and digital media reach, and social media content, and did you remember to invite the right people to the right events? Have enough attendees RSVP’d? Did you call to confirm? Will media show up? Will anyone? Your skin crawls, your stomach twists, and that dread never leaves you. One wrong step, and it feels like the entire operation will cave in on itself.

You forget to eat. You don’t exercise. You fall into bed at the end of the night exhausted, mind reeling with possibility, with excitement, frustration, and anxiety. You wake still drained, your bones heavy, but you down more coffee, and get back to work.

The. Hustle. Never. Ends.

But you can feel the power in what you’re doing. The purpose. It shivers in the pit of your empty stomach where all manner of caffeine goes to die. The idea of what you’re working towards keeps you going more than the actual details. The details don’t matter. The goal shimmers on the horizon, just out of reach.

And then?

Your initiative moves forward.

You collect enough petitions.

Your event is a well-attended success.

Volunteers are showing up in droves.

Your candidate is up in the polls, is on TV, is blowing fundraising goals out of the water, is turning to thank you for all your hard work.

At that moment, everything is worth it.

This is an ode for those spreading light in these dark times. Those who know how to turn pain into persistence, despair into direction, helplessness into hope. This is for everyone sprinting towards a finish line they can’t yet see.

Keep running, and pushing, and making it happen.

Change doesn’t come to those who wait. Change comes to those who do.

Doers, take care of yourselves, because this hustle never really ends.

But I’m here with you, in the trenches, in the dark searching for the fabled light at the end of a tunnel that goes on forever.

The movement is you, is us, is everything.

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Filed Under: Activism, Politics Tagged With: activism, campaign life

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About Tess

I’m a writer who spends her day making things up for pay. I also moonlight as a community organizer for free …

Recent Posts

  • America, This is Exactly Who We Are
  • Close the Door on Your Way Out, 2020
  • On Being Black, Female, Terrified, & Hopeful in 2020
  • The 19th Amendment: 100+ Years of Black Women on Their Own
  • A Black Woman’s Guide to July 4th

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© 2021 · Tess R. Martin ·