Originally published in the Cincinnati Enquirer, July 20, 2020 https://amp.cincinnati.com/amp/5468151002
The news that Congressman John Lewis, my hero and friend, had passed away on Friday at the age of 80 literally knocked me to my knees. Maybe it’s that I’m still working through the grief of losing my father, Judge Nathaniel Jones, six months ago. Perhaps it’s the deadly pandemic endlessly stalking, taunting and trapping us. Or, it could be the deepening sense of national and personal dread created by a president with too much power and no conscience, unconstrained by politicians with too few principles and no courage. Or, more likely, it’s all of this and more.
It’s just too much, I thought. Too much.
But then I heard my father’s voice reminding me to stay focused.
“You think this is too much?” the good judge would have told me. “Imagine how John Lewis felt when he was beaten on the Edmund Pettus Bridge just for marching for the right to vote. He didn’t think that was ‘too much.’ He didn’t let that stop him. You don’t honor him by giving up fighting for what he believed in just because he died.”
Tributes abound for John Lewis, and he deserves every one. He was not only a civil rights icon but a truly good man. He stood his ground and spoke blunt, uncomfortable truths, often shaking with fire and passion, but he never gave in to anger or bitterness. He treated everyone – whether they were a janitor, a shy schoolchild approaching for an autograph, or a constituent seeking help – with the same courtesy and kindness he accorded his congressional colleagues and the president of the United States.
I will remember John Lewis for his humanity. I will remember his tenacity and refusal to give up, even when carrying on surely felt like just too much. I will remember he showed us that the way to a brighter future is not with bellicose promises to “make America great again,” but with quiet determination to help our nation to do better.
But what touched me most about Congressman Lewis were his unyielding sense of wonder and his ability to find joy everywhere. I once ran into him in the airport and as we walked through the terminal, he excitedly told me about an event he had just attended and how encouraged he was by the young people who participated.
“Stephanie, it was unbelievable!” he exclaimed in that way he had, as if he were describing his first taste of ice cream. “I wish you could have seen it. It was so inspiring!”
And despite his achievements and accolades, he could still be amazed that people he admired were in awe of him.
Several years ago, while I was in South Africa helping prepare for former president Bill Clinton’s visit to the Mandela Foundation, Nelson Mandela’s staff allowed me to work in his office. (I know, right?). I sat at the great man’s desk, looked around and noticed the books on his shelf closest to his desk, the books President Mandela obviously cared about and referenced regularly. One of those books was John Lewis’ “Walking with the Wind.” I took a photo of it and sent it to the congressman. The next time I saw him, Congressman Lewis put his hand on his heart, shook his head and said, “When I saw the picture, I couldn’t believe it! Nelson Mandela has my book in his office!”
In 2016, Congressman Lewis spoke at the U.S. Department of Transportation, where I was deputy chief of staff, about the inter-connection between transportation and civil rights. During the program, he noted that Martin Luther King had taught him that “when you believe in something, you have to stand up for it. You have to speak up and fight for it.”
“Get in the way,” he told us that day. “Get in good trouble. Persist. Insist. Make a little noise.”
The loss of several of our civil rights lions so close together – John Lewis and Rev. C.T. Vivian on the same day and Marian Spencer, Rev. Joseph Lowery, Elijah Cummings, Judge Nathaniel Jones, and others in the last year – in this time of turmoil is knocking us to our knees. But we must get up, just like John Lewis did, and keep getting into good trouble.
We must get in the way of oppression and police brutality. Persist in our fight against voter suppression and for full voting rights. Insist that minorities, women, immigrants, the poor, and the disabled be treated with dignity and respect and equality.
We can honor John Lewis by voting in November and in every election. And we need to keep making noise, loud and strong enough for our political leaders to hear us until they have no choice but to act. Tell them it’s not enough to simply say nice things about John Lewis on Twitter for a day and then turn their backs on everything he stood for once the flags return to full staff.
First and foremost, call your senators and demand they support full restoration of the Voting Rights Act as John Lewis called for to his dying breath by passing the Voting Rights Advancement Act, which was approved by the House but has been sitting on Mitch McConnell’s desk for more than eight months. (And, while they’re at it, they can rename the bill for him, too.)
That’s the very least we can do to honor John Lewis for everything he has done for this country and for each of us who live in it.
Today, we mourn the loss of this remarkable man who gave his all to the very end. But beginning tomorrow, let us stand up and answer John Lewis’ call to persist, insist, make a little noise, and get into the best kind of trouble.