[image description] A colorful illustration of hands working together to build a structure from vibrant bricks in shades of purple, orange, yellow, teal, and blue. A golden sun rises behind the unfinished structure against a deep navy background.
by Jas Hall
On election night, I sat with my 14-year-old niece watching history unfold. We exchanged looks of disbelief and relief as results came in from across the country. Seeing progressive Black, Brown, Indigenous, Queer, and Trans people being elected into leadership gave me a sense of hope that we'd be able to invite her into a world better than the one I found (millennials, you know).
We spent that evening making meaning of these early victories and talking about what could change for all of us. This teenager, with all her curiosity and fire, was beginning to understand the world she's growing into and the power she'll have to shape it. For the first time in a while, I went to bed feeling like we might be alright.
I'm celebrating this moment while also carrying a healthy, “been there, done that” skepticism about whether these transitions in office will actually result in material changes in our everyday lives. As a Black woman, single mama, from a working-class background, I know that representation does not always translate into improved conditions. For Black communities, whose labor, imagination, and resistance have long pushed this country toward its democratic promises, this work is not new. The election results opened possibilities, but they are only one part of the much larger transformation we still have to build. We cannot place the responsibility for our collective future solely in the hands of those we've elected. Democracy requires more of us than marking a ballot. It requires us to recognize our inherent power and put our skills to work building the liberated future we desire.
In August, I attended PolicyLink's We Are Founders Summit (Click here for videos and photos from this magical event), an experience that moved me in ways I'm still finding the words to describe. PolicyLink’s CEO Michael McAfee and President Ashleigh Gardere called on us to take a founder's stance in building a new democracy that works for all. For most of my life, I’ve felt excluded from the promises of this country, and two months ago, I was reminded that I have every right and the power to claim them. I didn't leave with a renewed faith that our institutions would save us. I left with a deeper faith in the people, including myself, and what we can create. And as I watched the election results unfold, I felt that invitation come alive.
That realization has deepened my commitment to the work I've devoted much of my life to. At CompassPoint, I get to work alongside leaders practicing different ways of being and leading together. We challenge the systems and cultural practices we've inherited while experimenting with new approaches rooted in our Pro-Black values and principles. The pressures and demands of stewarding an organization regularly test those values through the everyday decisions we make.
Navigating those tensions requires relationships that make room for vulnerability and principled struggle. It also requires us to nourish and heal the parts of ourselves worn down by oppressive systems while remaining accountable for the ways we consciously and unconsciously uphold the very practices and conditions we're working to transform.I believe this is my role in building and living into a new democracy. The futures we imagine must be reflected in how we nurture relationships rooted in dignity and respect for ourselves, each other, and the seven generations to come.
I'm savoring the relief and joy I felt on election night because I deserve to experience them without immediately making room for worry. Foreboding joy has been a regular practice for me, and I am choosing to interrupt that cycle. I can be deeply aware of how much is still at stake, and make a conscious decision to celebrate the wins, big and small. As I think about what comes next, I’m committed to holding them both.
I’ll leave you with this: What can we build if our imagination is fueled by fear, anger, grief, joy, love, and responsibility to the collective?
Let’s get to it.
(Eyes still on Mississippi and Justice for Nolan Wells.)
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