Candidates Say They Support Black Voters, But It's Up To Us To Decide If It's True

By J’na Jefferson


Soon after seeming to finally discover just how critical Black support truly is after the 2016 election, the 2020 Democratic presidential candidates appear to finally be taking into account the in general importance of Black Residents of the United States, their needs, and concerns. Although, just because they’re making attempts to appeal to the voting demographic doesn’t necessarily mean an authentic, lasting connection is being made.


Take the tenth Democratic debate, where seven Democratic hopefuls — except for Tulsi Gabbard, who did not qualify — took to the stage in Charleston, South Carolina to solidify their stances, point criticism at their opponents, and appeal to voters at residence. Plenty of people were curious — and not a little bit apprehensive — to be able to see how a crowd of white politicians would address issues that Black voters care about most, particularly in a state where the community takes up fifty-five percent of its Democratic electorate. And in general, the debate expounded on economic affairs and criminal justice, touching on the housing crisis, health care, and even the gun violence epidemic, which was introduced by moderator Gayle King with a nod to the shooting at Emanuel African Methodist Episcopal Church, where a white supremacist killed nine Black people in 2015.


What ensued, nevertheless, was a disaster of promises and pandering that just barely scratched the surface of these voters’ lived experiences. While some candidates seemed to be straightforward in their pledges of support for Black citizens, it was tough to treat other oaths as proper, given the track records, personalized statements, and murky relationships that preceded each candidate’s campaign. And as Tom Steyer pointed out, the idea of certain issues being “Black issues” do a disservice to the Black community — most issues matter to Black voters. Which begs the question: How do we distinguish between legitimate support and people-pleasing?


To be clear, some candidates are actively showing concern with issues plaguing Black communities, and aim to listen and learn more about what needs to be done. Steyer is forthright with his concerns associated with Black women’s reproductive rights, stating while in the debate that he got into the race sort in attempt to fight for “economic, racial and climate justice.” He also has a history of funding Black movements and reportedly donated over $60,000 to Black community corporations while in the country.


Meanwhile, Senator Elizabeth Warren plans to reverse the infamously racist legacy of banking discrimination and made waves in 2015 for her comments associated with the significance of Black Lives Matter while in a rally in Boston. Several transgender activists have rallied beyond Warren for her call to protect Black trans girls against a national epidemic of violence, and on Tuesday night, she critiqued the idea of being “race-neutral” in the United States: “We have got to address race consciously,” she mentioned, doubling down on her pledge to fund Historically Black Colleges and Universities (HBCUs).


And as it’s been documented, Senator Bernie Sanders has been a staunch racial justice activist since the 1960s. As a now-viral photo of a college-aged Sanders shows, the politician led the initial known sit-in at the University of Chicago to protest segregated housing. In his 2020 campaign promises, he addresses racial disparities in wealth and revenue, with an aim to dismantle discriminatory practices in various areas. His policies on criminal justice reform have also evolved: his current proposal aims to halve a national prison population that is disproportionately Black.


It's key that candidates — and frankly, politicians everywhere — put in the work to make sure that Black voices are heard, not just as soon as cameras are recording. Although across the debate stage, there really is still work to be done. Former mayor Pete Buttigieg has routinely had to answer to the perceived lack of trust he generated with the Black citizens of South Bend, Indiana. Michael Bloomberg’s legacy as mayor of New York City is marred by stop-and-frisk, the policing tactic that targeted Black and Latinx youth at disproportionate rates and terrified generations of marginalized people. Amy Klobuchar, a former prosecutor in Hennepin County, Minnesota, sentenced then-teenager Myon Burrell to life in prison in the early-2000s for a murder he could have not committed.


And in 1994, former Vice President Joe Biden sponsored a crime bill which enacted stricter federal prison sentences, supplied funds to build more prisons, and supported grant programs encouraging officers to conduct more drug-related arrests. It had an outsized effect on Black and other minority people, and exacerbated the controversial “war on drugs.” A sign that he has changed? One of his 2020 policies pledges to “end all incarceration for drug use alone and alternatively divert individuals to drug courts and treatment.”


Often, candidates are in such a hurry to prepare statements that appeal to a crowd of people that they fall short on what needs to happen in group for that pledge to take effect. Biden can promise to nominate a Black woman to the Supreme Court — which was “not a joke!,” He qualified at Tuesday’s debate — nevertheless that does little to account for the Senate’s confirmation of her, or that an existing Justice seat would have to be vacated for her appointment to happen. It’s also unclear what that representation would mean to Black Americans’ everyday lives in a meaningful way, the way Buttigieg’s Douglass Plan (named right following the abolitionist Frederick Douglass) broadly aims to “empower Black America” and reform damaged systems.


As Klobuchar widely stated throughout the debate, keeping promises to the Black community is essential. Once we’re craving trustworthiness in a candidate who claims to be for and by the people, can we accept pledges and reformed ideas at face value? Is it enough to listen to someone mention they’ll help or that they care, once there’s documentation that doesn’t necessarily show that they have? Every candidate says they are going to fight the issues facing Black citizens, yet is it possible for those voters to completely trust the candidates who have a contemptuous history with the community, despite their current efforts to prove the opposite?


These questions matter, and their answers have ramifications that extend far behind South Carolina. On Saturday (February 29), a significant collection of Black voters will make their voices heard at the polls, and so they are going to do so in a state marked by voter disenfranchisement and other pressing issues. And days later comes Super Tuesday, once 40 percent of the nation votes, as well as a clearer picture of who could garner the Democratic nomination will be made.


The fact remains that Black Residents of the United States often don’t visualize or hear themselves in politics. It shouldn’t come as a shock to anyone that the next president will more than likely be white. Buttigieg even acknowledged throughout the debate how blatantly the qualifying candidates lacked racial diversity, and why little they are going to ever know about what it means to live as anything other than white. That's not an earth-shattering acknowledgment, however it does underline the task at hand: To meaningfully earn the trust of Black voters, it’s their duty to truly listen and understand their experiences, and leverage their needs to build policies that help them thrive in the country.


It’s critical to distinguish the contradictions in how the current candidates have tried (or failed) to help Black citizens in the past, sort in attempt to better shape our understanding of how they might advocate for the community in the future. Black Residents of the
U.S. Are yearning for their voices to be heard — and in a global where the world wide web seldom forgets, no candidate is above past transgressions. It’s ultimately up to the voter to decide the candidates talking a big game versus those actively attempting to enact change. And it's essential that we ask the tough questions and have hard conversations, online and off, to wrestle with our individual feelings connected with accountability, forgiveness, and trustworthiness.