From a Knee to a Strike: NBA Players Lead a Movement

You might think that the Republican National Convention clouded the week for those of us who support Joe Biden.  But despite the showmanship, the lies, and the flouting of the law, you could find good news elsewhere if you looked for it.  The highlight for me?  

The NBA players' strike on Wednesday.

In response to the police shooting of Jacob Blake in Kenosha, Wisconsin, the Milwaukee Bucks refused to play basketball.  They were followed in protest by the Oklahoma City Thunder, the Houston Rockets, the Los Angeles Lakers, and the Portland Trail Blazers.  Other athletes also stood up: Major League Baseball canceled games, and the WNBA and Major League Soccer suspended events.

Why does this matter?  After all, by Friday NBA players had agreed to return to the court.

Three reasons:

The players secured concessions from coaches and league officials: a plan to convert some arenas into polling sites, an agreement to run ads promoting voting rights and accessibility, and a commitment to a new social justice coalition designed to tackle issues of inequality.

The players acted together, reminding us of the power of collective protest.  With Republican legislatures having weakened unions over the last several years, athletes have become a new force.  Moreover, the ripple effect that occurred from one sport to another compounded their impact, making clearer their protest against racial injustice.

The players commanded our attention amidst other events including Hurricane Laura, the 2020 March on Washington, and the RNC convention.  They did so, I believe, because sports is arguably our biggest pastime.  Whether it's basketball or tennis or football, US athletes are national figures, more vocal than they were before.

By taking a knee four years ago, Colin Kaepernick initiated the movement we see today.

Character Matters, Mr. President

When I was an English teacher, I would tell my students never to use the word "nice."  It's banal and lifeless.  "What do you mean by nice?" I would ask.  Kind? Thoughtful? Generous? Empathic? Compassionate?  

Yes.  All of the above to define Joe Biden.

In any other election year, a discussion of a presidential candidate's niceness would seem silly.  We'd be concerned about our candidate's positions, qualifications, and experience.  And certainly these matter.  But after nearly four years of dealing with a mean president, niceness matters all the more.

What do I mean by mean?  I might more reasonably ask, Where do I begin?  Examples abound:

Vengeful: Donald Trump's endless retaliation against those who disagree with him or speak out against him.  See Alexander Vindman, the retired Army officer who testified in Trump's impeachment trial.

Scornful: Donald Trump's nasty mockery of others.  See John McCain, former U.S. senator and POW.

Threatening: Donald Trump's Mafia-like menacing.  See Minneapolis and D.C. protesters, who stood up against police brutality.

Misogynist: Donald Trump's constant need to demean women.  See Kamala Harris, U.S. senator and vice presidential candidate.

Cruel: Donald Trump's vicious assaults on those most vulnerable.  See Family Separation policy, a barbaric, inhumane treatment of children and their parents.

It will be interesting to see how the Republican Party whitewashes Trump's heinous behavior at the convention this week.  For if anything became clear during the Democratic National Convention, it was the gratitude from so many for Vice President Biden's kindness to them over the years.  From ordinary citizens to members of Congress, one after another gave examples of Biden's compassion for others.

Why does this matter?

Because, as the Declaration of Independence reminds us, "A Prince whose character is thus marked by every act which may define a Tyrant, is unfit to be the ruler of a free people."

Joe Biden has the character to preside over our country.  Donald Trump does not.

We the People

The Democratic National Convention begins tomorrow, and I'm glad that it's taking place virtually.  While the coronavirus renders this format necessary, traditional conventions have also become outmoded.  Throngs of impassioned delegates filled with adulation for one man feels out of sync with the democracy we profess to cherish.

Though Donald Trump's political rallies epitomize this idolatry, so do Democratic ones.  I'll never forget the thrill of seeing Barack Obama at a huge rally in Greensboro, North Carolina, in September 2008.  The excitement and energy of the crowd electrified the event in a way that I'd never experienced.  It was great.  And yet I wonder . . .

Every four years, it seems, we cast about for that one candidate--usually male, usually white--who will singlehandedly save us.  In fact, George Washington's inaugural journey from Mount Vernon to New York in 1789, as described by Ron Chernow in his book Washington: A Life, began this American tradition.  Despite the new president's wish to keep celebrations simple, "Before long," Chernow writes, "it was apparent that Washington's journey would form the republican equivalent of the procession to a royal coronation."

A royal coronation indeed.  It's not what our Constitution prescribes, but it's what our conventions and inaugurations have become.

Moreover, we hold unrealistic expectations for the presidents we've elevated.  Washington captures this sentiment in words written over 230 years ago:  "I greatly apprehend that my countrymen will expect too much from me."  He's right.  Those of us who revered Barack Obama expected societal change that never materialized.  Those who worship Donald Trump don't live in an America made great again.

We've lost the "We" in "We the People," though it seems we never had it in the first place.  But it's the goal, it's the idea.  It's all of us participating in democracy.  It's scrapping the Electoral College.  It's getting money out of government.  It's overturning Citizens United.  It's eliminating voter suppression.  It's rethinking presidential power.

It's Make the United States Better for All.

Who's It Going to Be?

It's about time for Joe Biden to tell us his VP pick, and just as I did during the presidential primary, I've vacillated in my preferences.  

I started with Stacey Abrams, a formidable and brilliant woman, and decided that her lack of experience in the federal government disqualified her.

I moved on to Val Demings, whose impassioned closing remarks at Trump's impeachment trial impressed me more than anyone else's, and then decided that her experience as a police chief made her vulnerable.  

I thought briefly about Barack Obama's friend and adviser Valerie Jarrett, but she never emerged as a strong contender.  On to Susan Rice, a smart and effective UN ambassador.  I read today, though, an article about her immense wealth and investments in troubling companies, and she's also linked, unfairly, to the Benghazi sham.

Okay.  Deep breath.  What about Karen Bass or Tammy Baldwin?

Answer:

They're all excellent candidates.  Any of the women on Joe Biden's list would distinguish herself as capable, knowledgeable, and compassionate in ways that neither Mike Pence nor Donald Trump can touch.  They're sharp women, leaders in all kinds of settings, with demonstrated values that left the White House on January 20, 2017.

I'll support whoever Joe selects.  What I won't do is this: evaluate her appearance, question her ambition, challenge her strengths, or assess her family.  It's wrong and distracting.  

We need women at the highest levels of government, and now we've got another chance.  It's not one that I intend to waste.

Hatred

The voice that left the message was course and vile. "Ain't none of your business how I'm registered . . . I'd never vote for a Democrat, they're all crooked and stupid . . . Don't ever send anything to me again."  

Really?  This in response to a friendly, straightforward Get-out-the-Vote letter that my daughter and I sent to fellow Durham Democrats in our neighborhood.

So it's okay that people make calls like this? to a neighbor no less?  Especially when you're a registered Democrat who would logically receive such a letter?  I don't know why she's chosen to register as she has, perhaps to vote more effectively in local primary elections, but she shouldn't be surprised to get mailings from the Democratic Party.  What bothered me the most, though, was the hate in her voice.  Why not a simple, polite call that asks me to remove her from my mailing list?

I was watching the funeral service for Congressman John Lewis when the call came in and fortunately didn't answer.  The anger I felt simply listening to the message was hard enough to contain.  I felt like calling her back with an equally hateful response or sending her a demeaning letter.  But I thought instead about John Lewis:  his humiliations, his arrests, and his beatings.  The hatred he endured over a lifetime of 80 years dwarfed my bad encounter with a neighbor.  Like him, I wouldn't let this experience poison me.

Still, it's hard to know what to do with hate.  Martin Luther King, Jr., would counsel love.  Others, forgiveness.  For me, it's enough to say that I might understand my neighbor if I had lived her life.  And while I won't exactly turn the other cheek, I'll refrain from meeting hate with hate.  It's the best I can do right now.