In 2020, both our state and our nation face unprecedented challenges, yet the words of educator and activist Mary Mcleoud Bethune articulated almost 100 years ago still resonate, “The progress of the world will call for the best that all of us have to give.” We strive to heed those words at Kids Forward, where our mission is to inspire action and promote access to opportunity for every kid, every family, and every community in Wisconsin so that every child can thrive. In this moment, we need every Wisconsinite to find inspiration, to act, and to give the best we have to give toward an equitable and inclusive future for all.
Admittedly, that is a particularly big ask right now as we live in a battleground state for November’s Presidential election and a national hotspot for the coronavirus. Both of those are impacting every moment of every day-the lack of human contact with our elders and friends, our children’s schooling, our ability to work and decisions around marrying and burying those we love and wearing masks. Those realities also perpetuate fear of what is to come.
Amidst that shared angst, we also know that the society we have created results in a greater risk of contracting and dying from coronavirus for some. People with pre-existing conditions, older people, and people of color (especially Black people) have suffered disproportionate harm. At the same time, the inexcusable police killings of people who are Black continue. White supremacist backlash to the protests led by the Black Lives Matter movement gains fervor. The families of Black, Indigenous and People of Color (BIPOC) fear for the lives of their loved ones when they walk out the door.
This year is filled with the loss of national heroes and icons of civil and human rights. The response to fear has far too often reflected a desire for power over and a disrespect for the foundations of our democracy. Many have explained that exhaustion and wearing people out is a tool of oppression. The oppression of 2020 persists. It has been and likely will continue to be too much, too fast, too tragic, too demoralizing.
For those of us for whom layers of oppression are new, 2020 is definitely too much. Yet, if we look to leaders of the past and present, especially Black women, we begin to see that surviving, thriving, and leading through “too much” is possible. We must learn to “lift as we climb” and we must expect our leaders at all levels to do so as well.
If we center our efforts on our shared humanity, then we can work for solutions that don’t divide or limit anyone. The concept of “lifting as we climb” was born when a journalist chose not to write in opposition to lynchings, but rather used his poisonous pen to attack the strength, integrity, and virtue of all Black women as justification for murder. In response, those women educators, entrepreneurs, moms, social activists, church goers, suffragists, and more founded the National Association of Colored Women (NACW). NACW’s strategy was to use their status as community organizers and leaders to elevate Black women and their entire communities. Mary Church Terrell, NACW founder, is credited with describing the strategy as “Lifting as we climb.” The women of NACW were literally fighting for every breath under the threat of lynching because thier bodies were deemed unworthy and barely human.
Decades later, that fight persisted in our own state of Wisconsin led by Vel Phillips and others. Councilwoman Phillips (and ultimately Judge and Secretary of the State of Wisconsin) earned positions that broke many barriers, but the fight was always bigger than her. She fought for everyone to have “A place to live, green grass, a white picket fence, a place to go to work, and good schools for our children.” In the tradition of the NACW, she fought for the dignity of lives too often deemed expendable and unworthy. As she endured persecution as the first Black councilwoman, Ms. Phillips persisted — she introduced a fair housing ordinance every 90 days for seven years. Even when it was too much, she lifted as she climbed.
In our local communities, state and nation, BIPOC women today are leading the fights against horrifying police shootings of unarmed Black women, men and children, the caging and separation and mistreatment of children and families at the nation’s southern border, and efforts to deny and dismantle access to health care. These threats persist and evolve through racist policies, practices, and systems developed over generations. They are inextricably tied to community divestment, unmitigated economic hardship, and long-term unmet needs. Grounded in those realities, many BIPOC women lead efforts of self determination to maintain personal bodily autonomy, make reproductive decisions, and parent children in safe and sustainable communities with living wage jobs, affordable housing, quality health care, and access to nutritional food.
We need leaders across our state and nation whose words and actions reflect the Native American maxim that the decisions made today will help or burden seven generations to come. We need leaders who appreciate and understand the complexities of people’s lives and the role of institutions and policies in creating and perpetuating harm. We need leaders who will “lift as we climb,” refusing to perpetuate unnecessary hardship and instead invest in the dignity of all children, families and communities.
Leading up to the election, our attention will continue to be pulled in too many directions and distract us from the need to center our shared humanity. Learning from and listening to leaders who “lift as we climb” will help us maintain this focus. It will allow us to fight through the exhaustion and not fall prey to that tool of oppression. Only by centering compassion and concern for one another can we hold our leaders accountable for their words, decisions, and actions
As we head into 2021, the world is calling for each of us to give our best for each other and to demand the same of our leaders. We can respond to that call out of fear, thereby creating more fear, oppression, and harm. Or, we can choose to respond by lifting as we climb. Choose love. Choose dignity. Choose shared humanity
Susan Stanton