The Great Hope

We've been here before, and it sucks. But we have the power. This I swear, and we will inevitably overcome, but not before bloodying up our faces.

Building on my last post, I wanted to spend some time emphasizing a point that I try to continue to make over and over again: the people are the power. Right now, in Oregon, new groups are being formed to organize against an invasion perpetuated by our own federal government. Honestly, it sounds like the plot of a bad novel. But it’s true. Whether it’s the well-known groups like Indivisible, or the startup groups that are firing off like popcorn to make sure that people in Oregon are fed, and have clothes, and what we all need to survive.

This is how we make it through! Whatever is thrown at us, we can take it, as long as we stick together. But don’t get me wrong…it’s not fear that binds us, it’s hope. Because with hope, we put the energy into helping each other. Hope brings out our better natures and calls us toward acts of kindness. That’s the main juxtaposition I see between those who would see the United States we all built torn asunder: those who believe in a future versus those who believe that the future is pre-ordained. But it’s not a given.

No, every day it’s one more thing. Every day it’s another act of violence, and another demolition, and another lie. It’s all designed to make us give up hope. It’s designed to make us fear, and make us cave, and make us believe that we’ve already lost. Why?

Because we can’t be beaten.

Let me repeat that: we can not be beaten.

I know it doesn’t seem like that now. I know that Trump and his Maggats are swarming, and blustering, and loud. But it reminds me of something. It reminds me of the Great White Hope. I don’t know if you remember this—probably not. I mean, I wasn’t alive in 1908 either, so I remember learning about it. Here’s what I know. Back in 1910, there was a fight, literally, between the races. This was just as the Ku Klux Klan was beginning to roar up again, and the White identity was being formed. A single man, Jack Johnson, had won the heavyweight boxing championship. It was the first one to go to a Black man.

This man, Jeffries, I think his name was, came out of retirement to represent the “White Race,” whatever that is. And this fight was determined to be “the fight of the century” by newscasters.

Let me stop here for a minute. News agencies backed Jeffries. Remind you of anything? Yep, even back then, when it was absolutely blatantly racist what was going on, commercial news organizations broke toward the racism. It’s not much different today, is it? Back to the story.

Betting odds from people who liked gambling favored Jeffries as well, even though he’d already been retired. Why? Because he was “the chosen representative of the white race,” says the New York Times. Yes. That New York Times. (See, liberals often think the press is on their side, but the truth couldn’t be farther from them). Anyway, the New York Times had decided that “if a black man wins, thousands and thousands of his ignorant brothers will misinterpret his victory as justifying claims to much more than mere physical equality with their white neighbors.” That was kind of an aside, but worth noting.

It was a slug-out of a fight, but it was clear many times who was likely to win. Jeffries was pummeled to the point that he couldn’t stand at a minimum of three separate times. Still, the fight went into 15 rounds (typical is 12), and it doesn’t say in anything I’ve read, but I’m positive that Jack Johnson felt about like we do today: tired, frustrated, and angry. (I’m also positive the referees were white, and likely kept the fight going longer than they should have, but that’s just me.) Anyway, he kept fighting through it. He fought through the times when he knew, or had to have known, that despite his better ability, likely everyone in that arena wanted him to lose. Still, he fought on.

Because of hope.

He hoped he would win. He hoped to overcome the racist mobs. He hoped to prove that the (extensively diverse) Black people weren’t a people that would lie down easily. And it’s that hope that we have to have. We can’t afford the fickle hope of those who want easy things.

We need the knock-down, drag-out hope that bruises your knuckles, and knocks out your teeth, and keeps you standing up again when you know the next blow will hurt just as much as the last.

That’s the type of hope we need, and that’s the type of hope and grit built into almost every American.

You have it too.

I promise.

Stand up and fight. I’ll do it with you.