In this episode of the “Collage” podcast, Rev. F. Willis Johnson and Rev. Gregory Kendrick explore the profound intersections of faith, history and preservation. They delve into the power of sacred spaces and how maintaining and honoring these place can be a form of advocacy.
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America’s glass ceiling remains − here are some reasons Harris lost
Nov 11, 2024
Farida Jalalzai is a professor of political science and associate dean of the College of Liberal Arts and Human Sciences at Virginia Tech
Kamala Harris was a candidate of many firsts, including the first Black and South Asian woman to run for president as the Democratic nominee.
Her resounding, swift loss in the presidential race to Republican Donald Trump on Nov. 5, 2024, means many things to different people, including the fact that American voters are unable to break the glass ceiling and elect a woman as president.
Amy Lieberman, a politics and society editor at The Conversation U.S., spoke with Farida Jalalzai, a scholar of women political leaders and gender in politics, to better understand the significance of Harris’ defeat – and how the U.S. stands apart from other countries that have had female leaders.
How important was Kamala Harris’ gender in her loss?
I can’t say it was a main reason she lost. But what I can say is it was a factor that contributed to her lack of support, especially when you compare her performance with Joe Biden’s in the same places and with almost all of the same voting groups he won in 2020. Gender was part of the campaign landscape in many different ways this election. Trump and his supporters used insulting tropes about what a woman leader would look like on the world stage. He used a lot of misogynistic and racist appeals in his campaign and tried to mobilize voters in ways that aimed to reinforce patriarchy.
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What does Harris’ loss say about where gender equality stands in the country?
I am not surprised that the glass ceiling for women in politics is still super durable in the U.S. This is an example of the country’s limits of making true progress on women’s empowerment and equality. Of course, the fact that Harris was a woman of color vying to be the first woman president of the U.S. is pertinent.
Trump asserted that the country needs a strong man to lead. He portrayed Harris as a liberal extremist and generally got the message through that a woman would not be up to the job of president.
When Geraldine Ferraro ran as the first female vice presidential candidate nominated by a major party in 1984, there were a lot of questions about whether she would be tough enough on the world stage. Now, there are still questions about whether a woman would be tough enough to lead.
How does this election compare with Hillary Clinton’s 2016 campaign against Trump?
In 2016, Hillary Clinton highlighted the historic nature of a woman running for president of the U.S. – and, of course, she received nearly 3 million votes more than he did, though she still lost the election. Harris was reluctant to mention the historic nature of her candidacy. She did not mention this when she gave her acceptance speech at the Democratic National Convention in August 2024. She recently explained this by saying, “Well, I’m clearly a woman. The point that most people really care about is can you do the job and do you have a plan to actually focus on them.”
Another important factor is Trump’s political trajectory. In 2016, Trump was still seen as an outlier and an extremist. Many political scientists – including myself – did not think he would receive the nomination, let alone win the general election that year. We see now that Trump is the new normal of the Republican Party. More moderate Republicans, such as Liz Cheney, are also not in power anymore. The party has become more extreme.
Is the country moving backward on gender equality, or is it stuck in neutral?
A few months ago, I would have said that the country is moving forward, but I feel like it’s moving backward now. That Trump’s sexist and racist messages resonated with a substantial number of people – or at least did not bother some enough – is a concern. Trump also said extreme things about women in 2016, including calling Hillary Clinton “a nasty woman.” This time around, these attacks seemed more normalized, saying that Harris was in a powerful political position only because she traded sexual favors, for example.
Women have led other countries. What makes the U.S. different?
The U.S. is a nuclear power and a major military and economic force. These realms are typically stereotyped by some as masculine. The president stands atop the U.S. political system and is directly elected. Women leaders often ascend through appointment as prime ministers in parliamentary systems. One of the vulnerabilities of prime ministers is that their terms in office are less secure. The traits deemed fitting for these roles – seeking compromise, for example – may prove less of a challenge to women than they would if they were seeking to be president of a powerful country like the U.S. on the world stage.
Currently, only two women presidents who govern in presidential systems were directly elected, and they are in Honduras and Mexico. The former is a former first lady, and the latter has strong ties to her predecessor. While women have been presidents of countries, several, such as the current presidents of Ethiopia, India and Greece, are essentially symbolic. Those positions are very different from the U.S. presidency, which has a more dominant role.
It is also pretty uncommon for a woman to be elected president in a presidential system without being a member of a powerful political family or without being supported by a male predecessor. When you look at Laura Chinchilla, the former president of Costa Rica, or former president of Brazil Dilma Rousseff, what connected a lot of these female politicians is that they were very much aided by male predecessors.
Cristina Elisabet Fernández de Kirchner, the former president of Argentina, had a wealth of political experience before she came to office in 2007, but she served immediately after her husband, Néstor Kirchner, was president.
There is a complexity to these cases, and a lot of these women brought in their own political credentials and experience. But there is still a tendency to have the additional demand that women in politics have these connections.
This article is republished from The Conversation under a Creative Commons license. Read the original article.
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We are family: Don’t criticize changing U.S. families – embrace them
Oct 23, 2024
Kang is an associate professor and Human Services Program lead in the School of Public Management and Policy at the University of Illinois at Springfield. King is also a public voices fellow through The OpEd Project.
Blended families or bonus families (also known as stepfamilies), whether they are formed through parents’ remarriage or living together, are common. More than 10 percent of minor children in the United States live with a stepparent at some point.
Both presidential candidates are stepfamily members. Donald Trump has five children from three marriages. Vice President Kamala Harris has two stepchildren through her marriage to Doug Emhoff.
Almost half of Americans have at least one step relative. As blended families are common in reality, stepfamily stories were the repertoire of the early Disney fairy tales including Cinderella, Snow White, and Hansel and Gretel.
There are plenty of more recent examples of stepfamily stories in movies and TV shows including “The Parent Trap,” “Enchanted,” “Modern Family” and “The Sound of Music.”
In the new reality series “Wayne Brady: The Family Remix,” actor Brady shares the difficulty and joy of building healthy relationships in blended families.
Unfortunately, many pop culture stories reinforce the idea of blended families as broken. This idea comes with the trope of a wicked stepmother or an abusive stepfather. The traditional family ideology that the biological family of four is the cultural norm is more than entrenched in our lives.
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In her 2016 book, “The Way We Never Were: American Families and the Nostalgia Trap,” author Stephanie Coontz writes that this unrealistic cultural expectation has affected every way of building, connecting and thinking about family relationships although it has never existed in American history.
In recent interviews, Harris contends hers is not a “typical” stepfamily with a wicked stepmother having a terrible relationship with her stepchildren. Still, Trump and vice presidential candidate J.D. Vance have attacked Harris for not having biological children on her own, often describing her as “a childless woman.”
These ideas are irrational and make many stepfamily members, as well as members of other nontraditional families, feel disrespected and discouraged. It is concerning that voters may share the same line of thought without carefully exploring the presidential candidates’ qualities, policy proposals and visions that will affect the future of the United States and people’s wellbeing.
It is time to stop spreading family hostility. Enough is enough.
It is also time to update the notion of family in this country and around the world. According to recent research, in the United States in 2023, there was an average of 1.94 children under 18 per family, a decline from 1960 when the average was 2.33 children under 18 per family.
More than half of all families with children in the U.S. in 2022 were female-led with children under 18, data shows. More than 40 percent of households in the U.S. have children under 18 living there.
This country has a long way to go to make progress on accepting a more flexible definition of family and challenging the traditional norm against a modern family life in America. Family comes in various forms and structures. Where love flows, family begins.
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Hating on them is hating on us
Oct 22, 2024
Johnson is a United Methodist pastor, the author of "Holding Up Your Corner: Talking About Race in Your Community" and program director for the Bridge Alliance, which houses The Fulcrum.
As a resident and registered voter of the state of Ohio, I am distressed by the rhetoric Donald Trump and J.D. Vance have directed towards Haitian immigrants in Springfield. I am an American citizen who, by default of pigmented skin, could be assumed to be Haitian or something other. It pains and threatens me that such divisiveness and hatred are on the rise. However, it strengthens my resolve to demand a more just, equitable and loving nation and world.
Pursuing racial justice extends far beyond mere policies or practices; it is a deeply personal and profoundly moral imperative. At its core, this work demands that we acknowledge the inherent worth and dignity bestowed upon every human being, recognizing the divine image imprinted on each soul. It calls us to treat all people with the respect, compassion and love that this sacred truth deserves. In a world where racism, antisemitism, Islamophobia, gender bias and other forms of hateful expression and speech persist, we are compelled to act. Silence and inaction in the face of such bigotry are tantamount to denying the very image of God in our fellow human beings.
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As people of conscience and faith, we have a universal responsibility to combat hateful rhetoric and actions in all their forms. This is a matter of social justice and a fundamental requirement of our shared humanity. In a democratic society, everyone deserves equal dignity and respect, regardless of race, religion, gender or identity. We fulfill our moral and theological obligations by standing against hate and working to create a world that reflects the sacred truth of human equality. Through love, compassion and determined action, we can help eradicate hateful expressions and speech, building a society that genuinely honors the image of God in every person.
This is the calling I have dedicated myself to. It is what focuses my writing, speaking and teaching as an educator. It informs my work and witness as a Christian minister. It sets my intentions in parenting and responsible citizenship. And it is the work I will keep doing, no matter how hard it gets.
Like generations before me, I do all this because I know we can be better as a nation. We can build a world where every person thrives, every voice is heard and every soul is seen. It will take effort, yes. It will take perseverance, patience and courage. But I have faith in us. I hope, inspired by faith, that if we keep pushing and striving together, we will create a multiethnic democracy, a beloved community.
That is why I encouraged the following:
When presented with hateful and racist rhetoric, it's essential to address it directly. Do not stand idly by when such language is used in your presence. Calmly but firmly tell the speaker that their words are not acceptable. If the hate speech is more public, such as at rallies or on social media, report it to the appropriate authorities. If you witness someone else being targeted, support the victim. Your actions send a message that hate has no place in your community.
Education is critical to combating ignorance, the root of much hate. Sponsor or participate in workshops about different cultures, religions and social issues. Bring together people of various backgrounds for open dialogues. On social media, share informative articles and personal stories highlighting the harm of racism. We can break down stereotypes and foster understanding by learning from each other. Empathy, the ability to share the feelings of others, is the antidote to hate. Practice active listening and try to see things from another's perspective.
Demand that our elected officials denounce hate groups and racist rhetoric. Support legislation that strengthens hate crime laws. Lobby for school curriculums that include diverse histories and promote inclusion. Vote for candidates who run on platforms of unity and respect for all. If you can, donate time or money to organizations that fight discrimination. Policy change may take time, but it is a crucial step towards a more just society. Raising your voice can help create a world where all people are treated with dignity and respect.
I am still determining what the future holds. But I know this: As long as we keep pushing and believing in the promise of a democratic republic, we will get there. We will create a nation where all its people can thrive, where every person can live with dignity and where every person can call this land home.
This I believe. This I will advocate faithfully for. We deserve and are promised a country and leadership better than this. And with divine help, this is the America we can become.
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Abortion, race and the fracturing of the anti-abortion movement
Oct 16, 2024
Johnson is a United Methodist pastor, the author of "Holding Up Your Corner: Talking About Race in Your Community" and program director for the Bridge Alliance, which houses The Fulcrum.
The Supreme Court’s Dobbs decision sent shockwaves through the very soul of America, shattering the fragile peace that once existed around the issue of abortion. But amid this upheaval, a quiet reckoning is taking place within the anti-abortion movement itself — a reckoning that lays bare the tangled threads of race, religion and power that have long defined this struggle.
To truly understand this moment, we must first confront the roots of the anti-abortion movement as we know it today. It is a movement born mainly of the white evangelical Christian right, which found its voice in opposition to Roe v. Wade in the tumultuous decades of the 1970s and ‘80s. For many conservative evangelicals, the issue of abortion became a rallying cry, a bulwark against the perceived threats to traditional authority and values.
Yet this history sits in uneasy tension with the movement's professed commitment to the sanctity of all human life. It is a dissonance that grows harder to ignore as the movement itself becomes more multiracial, more multifaith. Today, increasing numbers of Black and Latino Christians stand as anti-abortion witnesses, driven by a potent mix of religious conviction and deep concern over the disproportionate impact of abortion in their communities. These voices are calling the movement to account, forcing a reckoning with its racial blindspots and its often-unexamined alliance with a conservative agenda that has all too often devalued Black and brown lives.
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At the same time, the goals of the anti-abortion movement have grown more politically charged. In the aftermath of Dobbs, many states have enacted near-total abortion bans, with no allowance for rape or incest. These laws have sparked outrage even among some conservatives, who feel the movement has lost sight of its earlier emphasis on finding common ground to reduce abortions through supporting women and families.
This is not merely an academic question. The answer will have real-world consequences for abortion access, for racial justice and for the very health of our democracy. It demands introspection and courageous conversations about some uncomfortable truths that have long divided us. For courageous conversations to happen, curated space is required where the diverse voices within the anti-abortion movement can be truly heard, particularly those from communities of color. This means more than just tokenizing their presence — it means actively centering their stories, perspectives and wisdom.
Second, the movement's fraught history must be faced head-on without recourse to platitudes or evasions. To do so means grappling with how opposition to abortion became intertwined with resistance to racial and gender equality and how this legacy continues to shape the movement's priorities in the present day.
Third, a more expansive definition of "pro-life" encompassing economic justice, racial equity and the inherent dignity of all human life is demanded. A more expanded or nuanced understanding should advocate for policies that support vulnerable families, address the racial disparities that have long plagued us and promote a more just and equitable society for all.
Finally, we must dialogue with those who disagree with us as our human peers, driven by sincere convictions and a shared desire to do what is right. It means listening actively, speaking humbly and seeking common ground wherever possible, even as we stand firm in our principles.
Ironically, in this moment of upheaval lies an opportunity to forge a new path that is more inclusive, more just and more truly committed to the flourishing of all human life. The question is, will we dare have the necessary courageous conversations?
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