Making meaning

In January 2017, I flew to Chicago for the Obama farewell speech. I am someone who deeply dislikes crowds and running into people, so the decision to go was very last minute to the point that I was still considering whether or not to bail riding in my Uber to DCA. 

But I knew it would be good for me to be around people I had shared experiences with, who were also trying to make sense of what was happening. In reality, there were limits to the former and so much lost in the latter. The event felt like a mix of a funeral, shiva and campaign staff reunion packed inside the United Center. 

As I stood the security screen line snaking around inside the convention center and counted at least 18 people around me carrying copies of JD Vance’s Hillbilly Elegy I knew that the plot was not just lost— it was being hijacked and going to be weaponized against us. True to this fear, Trump’s first administration accelerated not just the political power of white nationalists but also the cultural narrative that their position in the hierarchy of America is an entitlement that should never be questioned or dethroned— not even by America, herself. 

I was confused counting the number of former Obama staffers clutching copies of Vance’s trash book. What, exactly, is there to understand? Why give oxygen, let alone royalties, to the monster in plain sight? They have told you the plans all along, why are we gaslighting ourselves? As I’ve written previously, “the economic misery Trump exploited during his campaign is real and, instead of fighting a war on poverty, his administration has taken up arms in a racist war on the poor.”

Bannon, Trump’s top advisor and self-described Leninist, is very clear on the objective. “Lenin wanted to destroy the state, and that’s my goal too. I want to bring everything crashing down, and destroy all of today’s establishment.” This includes intentionally dismantling the civic infrastructure that serves the poor, the free press and democracy.

The federal government is the single largest employer in the United States. 
The federal government is the single largest employer of Black women. 
The single largest Democratic voting bloc are Black women. 

I flew to Chicago partially in trauma response— to do some sense-making, make meaning and reclaim a sense of agency. So many of my peers are in the same place today, whip-lashed and confused but I am certain none of them are clutching the texts of incredible Black feminists they should be listening to right now. Few are thinking about how to protect the most loyal and also the most economically vulnerable voting base (are you one of them? email me!). Meanwhile, Vance’s trash book catapulted him into venture capital and made him beloved among the Silicon Valley donor class that is currently stripping America for parts. 

Monday, March 10th marks the National Day of Rest for Black Women. 

The discourse of self-care and well-being, especially care that centers Black women, is often gendered and portrayed as frivolous. But there is nothing superfluous about this. Authoritarianism is not merely a matter of state control, it eats away at who you are. It is a sad state of our culture that declaring and centering care for Black women is practicing a radical politic. When I saw this National Day of Rest for Black Women circulating on social media, I smiled because of course. We got us. While my peers scramble to voices like Vance for sense-making, Black women know we will only get out of the darkness by looking within, by being our own light. 

This era is scary, yes— but it is also a call to make meaning in our own way, to double down, demand better and to explicitly build power for the most vulnerable. 

Our Constitution is a remarkable, beautiful gift. But it's really just a piece of parchment. It has no power on its own. We, the people, give it power. We, the people, give it meaning. With our participation, and with the choices that we make, and the alliances that we forge. Whether or not we stand up for our freedoms. Whether or not we respect and enforce the rule of law. That's up to us. – Obama Farewell Address

We, the people, give it meaning. And we, the people, are in dark times. "What are we going to do?" is a question in so many conversations of late. It is good we are asking each other this but it is equally important we also interrogate ourselves because authoritarianism eats away at who you are and I categorically refuse to become an agent of darkness.

I know I can answer for myself that in these dark times I am going to continue to work on being a light.

What meaning will you make of this?

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Upcoming

• Next week, I am moderating a workshop for Black Women in Foreign Policy featuring Dr. Mi'Jan Celie Tho-Biaz for anyone interested in global residencies and fellowships– it is open to all!

Sabrina Hersi Issa is a human rights technologist. She is committed to leveraging innovation as a tool to unlock opportunity and dignity for all. She does this through her work in technology, media and philanthropy. This is her personal newsletter.