Author: Stephanie Jones

In the last couple of months, there have been widespread but random calls to boycott various retailers and other businesses in response to reports that they have changed their approach to DEI.

I get it. We feel like we should do something NOW and one thing we can do is use our economic power to protect and effect change.

These calls for boycotts often invoke the successful boycotts of the civil rights era and beyond – most notably, the 1955 Montgomery Bus Boycott, the United Farm Workers’ five-year Delano Grape Boycott, led by Cesar Chavez, that began in 1965, the anti-apartheid boycotts in the 70s and 80s.

But here’s the thing. Those boycotts were successful, not only because they were well-organized and skillfully carried out over months and years, but because they also had very limited, specific, and identifiable goals. They weren’t simply protests AGAINST something … They tactically pressured FOR something. 

A boycott without a goal is just a protest. And just protesting is not a movement.

The bus boycott wasn’t just a protest against segregation in America or even in Alabama or Montgomery. Its stated goal was more limited: to desegregate the Montgomery city buses.

The grape boycott’s purpose was to obtain a collective bargaining agreement for thousands of farm workers. Again, very limited, but critically important.

The purpose of the anti-apartheid boycotts was to dismantle the apartheid system in South Africa. A somewhat larger goal than the other boycotts, but still very specific.

The aims of all three boycotts were clear, narrow and attainable. And they were explicitly stated from the beginning so that everyone, including the boycotts’ targets, knew what the purpose was and how they could make the boycotts stop when they became too much of a burden.

So, when folks call for boycotts against various retailers and businesses, my first question is “For what … And then what?” 

I ask the question not to be dismissive or to suggest that such boycotts can’t be useful, but to encourage more thoughtful strategic thinking, planning, and action before embarking on them.

What is the point of the boycott? What exactly are you trying to get the company to do or stop doing? How will this be communicated to the company and public? How will the company know what steps it needs to take to meet the terms of the boycott? And how will the company and public and you know if and when you have succeeded?

Boycotts aimed simply at punishing a company for acts we don’t like are not useful. 

Boycotting a business because of news reports that it rolled back its DEI activity is not effective activism. 

There needs to be a stated ask and deliverable and an objective measure for determining whether the boycott has met its goal.

But first, we must carefully research what we’re actually calling into question: what were those policies, what were the impacts, what steps did the company take to roll them back, and what will be the real-world impact of that decision moving forward? 

Next, and very important, we should ask what do we want them to do NOW? “Restore DEI” isn’t a thing. There needs to be defineable action steps and an expressly stated and measurable desired outcome specific to that company – and it must be something the company can actually do.

And, finally, the boycott must be carefully and narrowly tailored to apply pressure to the exact spot that will cause enough discomfort to the company that it will want/need to relieve that pain by taking the action the boycott demands.

When all of that happens, the boycott will have achieved its goal. And a boycott that achieves its goal is not only true progress, it is tremendously empowering, feeding the soul and steeling the movement for future action. 

But to do this, we must know exactly what that prize is, carefully craft our words and actions to achieve it, and avoid the temptation to engage in performative acts that may feel good but won’t bring us the change we seek.

There are many lessons to be learned from the 20th century civil rights movement. One of the most important of those is the need to be clear-eyed and strategic, not reactionary, and to always keep our eyes on the prize.

From remarks originally delivered at Zion Baptist Church Interfaith Vesper Service, January 12, 2025

This is the time of year when we see an avalanche of performative actions in Dr. Martin Luther King’s name. As my father, Judge Nathaniel Jones described it to me: “people who despised Dr. King when he was alive quoting his speeches out of context, eyes teary, lips aquiver and then spending the other 364 days of the year undermining everything he stood for.”

“[O]ne must truly struggle to learn what it was that Dr. King gave his life to achieve,” my father said in a 1981 speech commemorating Martin Luther King Day before it became a national holiday. “It is time to face the fact that merely observing Dr. King’s life is no answer. In fact, we ill-serve the memory of Dr. King as long as we fail to seek out the essence of his life and apply it to our own daily lives.

Folks love to quote Dr. King’s “dream” as a call to stand down and wait for our oppressors to find the goodness in their own hearts. But I think Dr. King’s dream of one nation was much more radical than some people assume. It doesn’t mean waiting for a fantasy future where all people agree and everyone is all pulling in the same direction.

What does Dr. King’s dream mean? What did it mean to Dr. King? What should it mean to us, especially in this moment, in this time of strife and fear and division and uncertainty?

Does it mean we all get along without differences? No, I don’t think so. That is the Disneyfied version of Dr. King—the caricature created after his death that bears little resemblance to who he actually was, what he truly believed, and what he meant to this world.

I believe that sharing a dream of one nation is to recognize that we will never have a perfect world, that there will always be forces arrayed against us. But it is a call for people of goodwill to unify under the banner of justice, equity, and the relentless pursuit of a better tomorrow, to push back on this evil and overcome those obstacles. It means doing the hard work, facing some difficult truths, making real sacrifices.

Dr. King himself recognized the challenges that lay ahead, and his words still resonate today:

“And I must confess, my friends, that the road ahead will not always be smooth. There will still be rocky places of frustration and meandering points of bewilderment,” he wrote. “There will be inevitable setbacks here and there. And there will be those moments when the buoyancy of hope will be transformed into the fatigue of despair. Our dreams will sometimes be shattered and our ethereal hopes blasted … But difficult and painful as it is, we must walk on in the days ahead with an audacious faith in the future.”

AN AUDACIOUS FAITH IN THE FUTURE.

That is a radical concept, isn’t it?

I’ve been thinking a lot about that phrase … and realized that it resonates with me because it also describes my father’s vision. He, too, had a faith that many thought was audacious. I often say he lived the most improbable life. A life that was not expected or foretold for him, a life that no one but his mother, his mentor, and a few others could even have imagined for him. And it was his audacious faith in the future that kept him going and inspired others to do the same.

I remember feeling that fatigue the morning after the 2004 election, as my father, shaving calmly, reminded me of the setbacks his generation faced but overcame.

“You think THIS is bad? Imagine how we felt in 1956 when Adlai Stevenson lost again—for the second time. And we didn’t have a Civil Rights Act or a Voting Rights Act or Black Members of Congress or governors or mayors. We didn’t just elect a Black man to the Senate. We didn’t have any of the resources or powers or tools that you have now. But we didn’t give up. We kept fighting. We got a Civil Rights Bill passed in 1957. In 1958, we had huge wins in Congress. And then in 1960, we elected Jack Kennedy president.”

“Progress isn’t like a freight train just barreling forward. It’s a pendulum that sometimes swings backward,” he continued. “The important thing is not to let go, but to always keep pushing forward so that the next time, you move even further ahead.”

“So, feel sorry for yourself all you want today. But tomorrow, get back to work.”

And, of course, as usual, he was right. In 2006, we won back the House and Senate. And in 2008, we elected Barack Obama president.

Many of us thought that signaled a huge leap forward and weren’t prepared for the backlash that would ensue, the backlash we are seeing now.

Even my father hoped for the best, as he noted in the final words of his 2016 memoir, “Answering the Call”: “Truth be told, the other ugly faces of America, to which Black persons have been subjected, we hope now, and we pray for all time, have been buried.”

Daddy hoped they were buried, but he also remained wary. He cautioned us not to let down our guard, to remain vigilant, to never assume that the fight for justice and equality was over. He knew the hard-earned gains could be rolled back, and, as we saw in the 2016 election, his fears were not unfounded.

That election broke my father’s heart. It wasn’t just the result, but the fact that so many Americans, including some of his friends and colleagues, supported a man and a movement so antithetical to his values and so determined to undo the progress he had fought for all his life. In a letter to an old friend after the election, he expressed a rare moment of despair, writing, “It seems that all I believed in and hoped for is about to wind up in the rubble.” For my father, this was a rare acknowledgment of how deeply shaken his faith had been.

Despite this, he did not give up. Even as his body weakened, he continued to fight, insisting on working for the causes he cared about, holding onto hope until the very end. My father never gave up on this vision. He believed in the potential for change, even when faced with profound setbacks.

He had an audacious faith in the future until the end.

Last November, I felt the same frustration, pain and disillusionment he felt in 2016. I think many of us did. But Daddy’s words, “Progress isn’t like a freight train just barreling forward. It’s a pendulum” helped me refocus.

Daddy described progress as a pendulum, a powerful force driven by gravity. Dr. King spoke of it in similar, if more sweeping terms:

“When our days become dreary with low-hovering clouds of despair, and when our nights become darker than a thousand midnights, let us remember that there is a creative force in this universe working to pull down the gigantic mountains of evil, a power that is able to make a way out of no way and transform dark yesterdays into bright tomorrows.”

Dr. King and my father both recognized that we have the power to instigate positive change, to bend the arc of the moral universe Dr. King described.

Two weeks ago, we said goodbye to former President Jimmy Carter. On Tuesday, I walked the few blocks from my house on Capitol Hill to the Capitol to pay tribute as his cortege arrived for his lying in state in the Rotunda. As I watched his flag-draped casket pass, flanked by military honor guards and a riderless horse, I thought about his journey, his connection to my family, the mutual love and admiration he and my father shared. How his appointment of my father to the Sixth Circuit changed our family’s lives, set Daddy on a course he could never have imagined for himself.

I also considered what a crushing a blow it must have been for him to lose the 1980 election. He himself said it took time and much prayer and reflection to come to terms with it and move on. And yet, he didn’t walk away or give up. He found other ways to serve, although “serve” is an inadequate word to describe what Jimmy Carter did in the 44 years after he left office. What a life. He is a beacon of the power of focused energy.

And in the end, he was hailed as a hero, a good and decent man. Daddy always said history would be kinder to Jimmy Carter than we had been. And he was right.

The cortege also reminded me of Rosa Parks, who died 20 years ago this year. I attended the service in the Capitol Rotunda that preceded her lying in honor where leaders of government gathered to pay her tribute. As we awaited in the hushed chamber for Mrs. Parks’ casket to arrive from the airport, President and Mrs. Bush arrived and quietly stood with the rest of us for about 20 minutes. There was something strange about the scene—and then I realized what was so odd. As an old presidential advance person, I know that the President rarely ever waits for anyone. He customarily enters the room only after everyone else has assembled and everything begins when he arrives. Yet, here stood the President of the United States—in an act of extraordinary tribute—waiting for Rosa Parks, nearly 50 years to the day that she was hauled off that bus for refusing to give up her seat.

Each of these leaders faced dark times, painful journeys, fearful nights, and uncertain dawns. But he kept going. They taught us that, even when the pendulum swings backward, we must push it forward as far as possible with all our might.

But in order to do that, we must gather our strength. That means taking the time to step back, think, pray, restore ourselves, reconnect and reinforce our spirits.

That’s just what many of us are doing now. Taking the time to think and pray and be still for a moment. Reflecting on where we’ve been and considering where we are going and how we can get there together. Pausing, recharging, and preparing for the work ahead. The fight for justice, equity, and peace, the work to fulfill Dr. King’s dreams is ongoing, and it demands our continuous commitment. But it also requires our energy and strength and clearheadedness.

Doing our part doesn’t mean being loud or large or in charge. It doesn’t mean leading a march or starting a movement. It can be simply looking around to see where help is needed and lending a hand to provide that help – what my father used to call “brightening the corner where we are.”

Whether it is through activism, education, or everyday acts of simple kindness, each of us has a role in bending the arc of the moral universe. As Dr. King said, “if we make the right choice, we will be able to transform the jangling discords of our world into a beautiful symphony of brotherhood.”

If we truly want to work toward one nation, we must fight for social and economic justice and speak up for those whose voices we often don’t hear. We can’t remain silent while the powerful abuse the powerless. We must refuse to look the other way because we think our privilege will shield us. We must reach out to and speak up for those who are being openly targeted and are living in real fear, including immigrants, our LGBTQ brothers and sisters and other marginalized people who are in actual danger.

We often hear the Rev. Niemoller quote:

First they came for the Communists
And I did not speak out
Because I was not a Communist
Then they came for the Socialists
And I did not speak out
Because I was not a Socialist
Then they came for the trade unionists
And I did not speak out
Because I was not a trade unionist
Then they came for the Jews
And I did not speak out
Because I was not a Jew
Then they came for me
And there was no one left
To speak out for me

This is a powerful message that speaks to us through the ages. And while it is an important warning, we should speak up for people, not just because we fear that, if we don’t, no one will be left to speak out for us. We should speak out because they are our brothers and sisters who need and deserve to be protected, regardless whether we think we may end up as the next victims and will need them to help us.

So please don’t be afraid to speak out, to challenge your friends, colleagues, and neighbors, if necessary, even if it makes them uncomfortable. Even if it makes YOU uncomfortable. Even if your voice shakes. Dr. King preached non-violence. He did NOT preach non-confrontation. Acting from a place of love does not mean holding our tongues and cloaking everyone in comfort, especially when our voices are needed to speak out for justice and mercy.

Dr. King told us this repeatedly: “A time comes when silence is betrayal … Our lives begin to end the day we become silent about things that matter … The ultimate tragedy is not the oppression and cruelty by the bad people but the silence over that by the good people”

Tonight, as we gird ourselves for what will come at noon tomorrow in the middle of Martin Luther King Day (is that the universe’s joke or a message?), let’s remember that the journey toward justice is fraught with challenges. Injustice still persists, and the road ahead is long. But we must not despair. We must build our resolve and our strength and prepare for what we need to do.

And then in the coming days, inspired by the lessons and the legacies of the great and good people who brought us this far, holding on to our audacious faith in the future, it will be, in the words of The Good Judge—time to get back to the work of bringing us closer to the dream of one nation Dr. King envisioned for us all.

White Women –

While many of you are upset with the outcome of the election, Black women are suffering more deeply than you will ever imagine.

This pain has many roots, but betrayal may be the most profound of them.

We had hoped and prayed and believed that this country would, at long last, do the right thing by us, and we gave our everything to help America get it right this time. And, in return white America not only slapped us in the face, they made it very clear that we don’t matter and never did.

And, as has happened so often in the past, that assault was made possible by a majority of white women, who locked arms with white men, forging a united and unstoppable force that went straight for our throats, hearts, guts, and kneecaps. And as also has so often been the case in the past, they didn’t miss their aim.

And, no, please do NOT “not all white women” us today or any time soon. You will not like the response, but you will deserve it. Because if this doesn’t apply to you, it doesn’t apply to you, and today is not the day to circle your wagons to protect and deflect blame from the white women it does apply to.

And don’t even THINK about pointing fingers at men of color. Our Black and brown men did not betray us. White women did.

For all the Chucks and pearls and chirpy “I know the assignment!”, in the end, y’all didn’t move the needle one bit.

We begged you to go get your fellow white women, and we showed you how to do it, telling you it would take more than sympathetic hand-holding and gentle words, and trying to bond over cheese plates to shake them out of their racist voting patterns. It required, at the very least, some uncomfortable conversations and difficult choices.

But many of you told us we were too angry, and pushy, and demanding, and insisted that you knew best how to do this. You couldn’t bring yourself to provoke any rude awakenings among your fellow white women, because God forbid you be rude. That might make the next book club meeting just too awkward and you can’t let politics get in the way of friendship.

And then Black women gave you the choice on a silver platter, breaking our necks to present the most perfect candidate of all time, a woman many of you had openly smeared and dismissed until she performed so adeptly that only the most craven among us could claim she was anything other than exquisite.

And still, she wasn’t good enough for the majority of you.

A whole lot of you said you were with us and then went into the voting booth and, no matter what you said to our faces, willingly gave the power of the universe to a white supremacist who hates us. Because you can’t convince me that the 52 percent of white women who joined with 59 percent of white men to shove white supremacy down our throats is made up only of “those women” somewhere “over there.” Plenty of them are right here in our midst. The problem is that we can’t tell which ones they are, which smiling neighbor or acquaintance knowingly used her political power to return an authoritarian racist to power and cement white supremacy into the nation for at least another generation. It’s like being surrounded by zombies.

So, today and for the foreseeable future, do not be surprised or offended if the Black women you know are disgusted and angry with you and look at you with distrust and fear. Because you may think you understood the assignment, but a tragic and unforgiveable too many of you failed miserably.

As we head into the final days of the 2024 presidential campaign, I am filled with cheerful excitement, because every minute and every day, I feel more and more confident that Vice President Kamala Harris is going to win and win big.

I actually have no idea how the election will turn out. I’m not a pollster and I’m not an analyst. I just feel it in my bones. And my bones rarely fail me.

Sure, my bones and I could be wrong this time. Instead of my heart bursting with happiness as it did on Election Night 2008, it could sink into the darkest pit of my stomach, as it did in 2016. But I don’t believe that will happen this year, and even if it does, what good would it do to expect it to?

We can either be miserable or we can be joyful. But misery serves absolutely no purpose other than to make us miserable. After all, if the country loses its mind, its way and its democracy this week, anticipatory grief will not make it any easier.

And if we prove we’re indeed the country I believe we are – a nation that will dig deep, reach high, and embrace the future promised us by the brilliant, brave, steely, light-filled warrior-servant asking us to help her help us save its soul – how sad to have wasted so much time and energy dwelling in darkness when we could have been enjoying the sparkle.

On the other hand, optimism has no downside. If we’re optimistic now and then the worst happens – and again, I don’t think it will – at least we savored the last, sweet dregs of innocent bliss before the poison washes over us.

I’m not giving in to – or even entertaining – despair because it’s toxic and contagious and ain’t nobody got time for that.

We need to devote every ounce of energy and every grain of time we have to helping Kamala Harris bring this victory home.

I’m choosing hope. I’m embracing joy. I’m sprinting toward the light at the finish line.

Because if we stay focused and positive, and keep our eyes on the bright horizon, as we do the hard, good work MVP is encouraging us to do, WE WILL WIN!

Former Congresswoman Liz Cheney is getting a lot of well-deserved kudos for so wholeheartedly endorsing Kamala Harris.

But lost in most of this praise is any recognition of the role that Vice President Kamala Harris played in this.

I can’t even wrap my head around the degree and depth of sensitivity, negotiating expertise, political savvy, and interpersonal skills that went into Kamala Harris successfully cajoling Cheney into not just endorsing her, but appearing with her, and agreeing to hit the campaign trail on her behalf. (and getting her father to endorse, to boot). That didn’t just happen because Cheney woke up last week and decided to endorse Harris. And Harris wasn’t some potted plant passively waiting for it all to happen.

She MADE it happen.

And it’s not just about Cheney. Kamala Harris has somehow managed to pull together a coalition of Republicans who, in the past, would NEVER have voted for a Democrat, especially a progressive Black woman. It’s one thing to tell people not to vote for Trump. But Harris has managed to convince a wide array of Republicans to stand on the rooftops and tell the world to vote for HER. This isn’t happening only because Trump is just so bad. It’s also happening because Harris is just that good.

That is some badass politics Harris is playing.

So I am here to give Vice President Kamala Harris the love and respect and salutes she deserves for pulling off this historical political feat and for doing it as she does everything – with skill, grace and genius.

Brava Madam Vice President. Brava!

His bar was as low as they could get it without burying it underground. He didn’t even need to step over it – all he had to do was shuffle across it and he’d have been home free.

But he tripped over it anyway, then fell on his face, knocked out a couple of teeth, swallowed a mouthful of dirt, ripped his pants and then wet them, skinned both knees and inexplicably lost two pairs of shoes.

On the other hand, her bar was somewhere up in the trees and a lot of people weren’t sure she could even see it, much less clear it.

But clear it she did. She ran headlong toward it in a swift, fierce, fearless run, and sailed over it in one graceful, ballerina-worthy leap, and with a gracious smile, floated high over the hapless, grunting lump barely visible struggling helplessly to haul himself out of the pile of leaves he had somehow managed to fall into, and nailed the landing, with a wink, a confident bob of her head, and a charming but leader-like chuckle, every hair still perfectly in place, because, after all, she is still a woman and, as such, must always remain ladylike and attractive.

And then she walked away like a boss.

Despite the gleeful chatter in some quarters, Donald Trump’s ugly, misogynoir-soaked performance today at the National Association of Black Journalists annual conference is not a laughing matter,

Trump didn’t fall on his face as some seem to think. He accomplished exactly what he went in there to do: draw the spotlight away from Vice President Kamala Harris and back to himself by attacking, insulting, and demeaning Black Americans, in general, and Black women in particular.

He did not do this “interview” to gain any Black votes. He’s not interested in our votes.

His purpose was to show white people that he’s not afraid of us and that he is willing to come into our spaces – in this case, by invitation – and disrespect us … and do it unashamedly.

In other words, he was just showing off. And, inexplicably, NABJ gave him the stage.

NABJ should never have invited him. Period.

But once they did, they should have ensured that their members, the Black community, the public at large and the three Black women on stage with him were not subjected to his vitriolic racism and sexism, lies and gish galloping.

And as soon as he began hurling insults – which unsurprisingly, occurred the second he opened his mouth – they should have shut him down on the spot, declared the interview over, and shown him to the exit.

I don’t care how bad he looked, I don’t care how many votes he lost, I don’t care how many votes Vice President Harris may have gained as a result of this debacle. There was nothing good or funny about any of this.

The last few weeks have been a roller coaster ride for many of us. But right now, we are on the rise.

Make no mistake. It is not an accident that in the last 24 hours, virtually every major Democratic figure, including Nancy Pelosi, and Bill and Hillary Clinton, and such purported potential rivals as Gavin Newsom, Gretchen Whitmer, West Moore, Josh Shapiro, and Roy Cooper have coalesced around Vice President Kamala Harris.

The first impetus, of course, was President Biden’s prompt, full-throated, and skillfully-executed endorsement of Harris as the nominee.

The second, without question, was the overwhelming, powerful, and inspirational show of support for Harris from Black women across the country.

Black women had the most invested in Joe Biden and fought the hardest for him. So his withdrawal from the race was probably more devastating to us than any other demographic.

And we felt it. Profoundly. I certainly did. It literally knocked me to my knees and every sister I’ve talked to had a similarly visceral reaction.

And we grieved … deeply … for about 10 minutes.

And then we got up ourselves up, brushed ourselves off, and got back to work. No whining. No handwringing. No what coulda shoulda beens.

And then, a few hours later, 44,000 of Black women – not a typo – gathered on a historic call strategizing, mobilizing, organizing.

And we put our money where our mouths are. In just an hour, Black women in the call had raised $1.5 million, providing a foundation for the nearly record-breaking $60 million the Harris campaign raised immediately after the announcement.

It is obvious that the impenetrable wall of support Black women built immediately built is, second only to Biden’s endorsement, the reason that today Kamala Harris has the wind at her back. She stepped up onto that wall, took a giant leap, and is now soaring into history. And we are going to continue to embrace, surround, protect and propel her every inch of the way. Because our vice president and presumptive Democratic presidential nominee is not only tan, but she is tested and ready for this challenge.

I am so proud of what we have done and are going to do. And I urge all of my fellow Democrats, whatever your race, to look at what Black women did yesterday, and then follow our lead.

Because when Black women lead, we ALL win.

I wrote this piece in August 2020, after Joe Biden put Democrats on notice that he has Kamala Harris’ back and he expected all of us to, as well.

Now is a good time to think about this again.

HE’S GOT HER BACK

When I was a young lawyer in a large law firm, the first African-American to work there, I was assigned to handle a workers compensation case for a corporate client. The employee had a strong case but the company president was adamant about fighting it, so I represented the company in its hearing before the Bureau of Workers Compensation.

After the Bureau ruled (correctly) for the employee, I returned to the office to call the client, give him the news and discuss a possible appeal.

When I told him of the decision, the company president (who had never laid eyes on me) blew up and yelled into my ear, “That guy is a dirty lying NIGGER!” I was stunned. “Excuse me?” I stammered. “He’s a dirty lying NIGGER! And everybody at the Bureau is a bunch of NIGGERR lovers. I hope they all end up with NIGGER grandchildren!”

I felt like I had been punched in the chest and I didn’t know what to do. So I put him on hold and just sat there for a minute, heart pounding, as I tried to swallow and catch my breath.

Then I told myself, “Just get him off the phone, tell the firm and let them handle it.” So I picked up the phone, told him I needed to call him back and clicked off. I went upstairs to the office of the senior partner responsible for the client where, shaking and nearly in tears, I told him what happened.

He looked at me for a few seconds, then leaned back in his chair and burst out laughing.

“That guy! He’s such an old curmudgeon. Just last week, he had Bob (another partner) all worked up by giving him the business about being an Ivy Leaguer! That’s just what he does.”

Stunned, I tried to explain to him that the client hadn’t made fun of where I attended college. That this was much different.

“Don’t let it get to you kid. It’s not a big deal. You need grow a thicker skin.”

I left his office and returned to my desk, where I sat not knowing what to do next. A few minutes later, the partner came to my office.

“Oh, good, I thought. He’s figured out he needs to do something ….”

But no. He was there to get the client’s file to give to another associate to handle. “It will probably be uncomfortable for you to work with him now,” he said sympathetically, as if he was doing me a big favor by taking me off of the case.

I asked him if he was going to tell the client why a different lawyer would be working with him, hoping that he planned to stand up for me and tell the client he had insulted one of the firm’s associates.

“No. He’s old and stuck in his ways. There’s no point in embarrassing him …” And he walked out, leaving me feeling alone, unprotected and unvalued.

Most people of color, women, and, especially women of color have surely and on more than one occasion, felt exactly as I did in that moment. It’s a common experience to find ourselves attacked by outsiders and then betrayed by the people who should stick up for us but instead just shrug and tell us WE’RE making too big a deal of the whole thing.

That’s why it was such a BFD yesterday when Joe Biden warned Trump and his henchmen that if they come for Kamala Harris, they’ll have to deal with him.

“Is anyone surprised Donald Trump has a problem with a strong woman? And we know that more is to come,” he said.”So let’s be clear … Kamala Harris has had your back – and now, we have to have her back. She’s going to stand with me in this campaign, and all of us are going to stand up for her.”

When I heard those words, I nearly cried with joy and relief. So many women and minorities have had to stand alone in the face of all manner of attack without any support from the people who should be standing by our sides.

But that’s not going to happen to Kamala. Yes, she’s going to be attacked, probably worse than any woman in political history, except perhaps Hillary Clinton (who also got little support from people who should have stood up for her). It’s already started. But this time, she won’t be alone. Joe Biden has put everyone on notice that not only does he have Kamala’s back, but he expects the entire party to circle the wagons around her. He essentially said for all to hear, “She’s with US. She IS us. So if you come for her, you’d better be prepared for a fight.” And that’s a fight they do not want to have.

As VP, Joe Biden showed himself to be valued and loyal partner to America’s first black president, a younger man whom he was willing to stand behind and support unwaveringly. As a presidential candidate, he showed himself to be a champion, who learned and grew and reached out to a diverse electorate. In selecting Kamala Harris as his running mate, he showed himself to be a politically savvy, bold and sensitive leader, paying it forward and helping to dismantle yet another barrier.

And yesterday, when he put the world on notice that he has Kamala’s back and expects the rest of us to have her back, as well, Joe Biden proved himself to be an ally in the truest sense of the word, willing to wield his privilege for the greatest good.

In his Letter from a Birmingham Jail, the Rev. Dr. Martin Luther King wrote about days gone by when “the church was not merely a thermometer that recorded the ideas and principles of popular opinion; it was a thermostat that transformed the mores of society.”

Dr. King’s perfect distinction can be applied today in our politics.

Too many people in the progressive community are behaving like thermometers, looking at polls, gauging popular opinion, listening to what “they are saying,” etc. and treating this information, not as useful and changeable data points for shaping messaging and strategy (which they surely are), but as static and unalterable immutable facts that will determine all that comes next. And based on that, they are now ready to throw in the towel and kick our staunchest allies to the curb in hopes of finding someone else they believe is more in line with the atmosphere as they assess it to be in this immediate moment.

But true activists know that licking your finger and holding it up to the wind is not activism.

Concluding that people will always think a certain way because they think that way todsy is not activism.

Deciding you can’t win a fight because you’re not winning it now is not activism.

Activism means staying in a battle even when, in this exact time and space, we are not ahead.

Activism means not just looking at what is, but determining what will be.

Activists don’t simply measure the temperature. We change the climate.

So please, stop listening to the polls and pundits and “insiders” and what someone told you “people are saying,” and then trying to convince us we’ve lost a fight that hasn’t even really begun.

We don’t need any more thermometers – there are far too many folks giving us minute-by-minute and (and more often than not, inaccurate) weather reports. We need thermostats working for change. And it will be the thermostats – the true activists – who will make the difference this November and beyond.

Which one will you be?