The year was 1988. Ronald Reagan was President and had been for most of my politically formative years. I was a college student, and several of my best friends were DJ's at the campus radio station. Sometimes I would go over and hang out while they did their shows.
One night, in the wee dark hours of the morning, my friend pulled up a brand new song. "You are going to love her," he said. "This is an anthem."
The moment I heard the opening solo guitar chords, and the first line of the words, I was hooked. "Don't you know, they're talking about a revolution that sounds . . . like a whisper." 21 years later, I am living amid the revolution. Finally the tables are starting to turn.
You see, last night I saw the woman who first sang those words so long ago, standing with her guitar on a stage in a hotel ballroom in San Francisco. Tracy Chapman joked that this was the toughest "opening act" she had ever done. She was opening for the President of the United States. She played several wonderful songs, but finished with the one we were waiting for.
The occasion was a fundraiser for Organizing for America here in California yesterday (Story with video here). After Tracy Chapman's stirring performance, and Nancy Pelosi's rousing introduction, the President took the stage. And he gave us a message of hope. You know, the kind we have been holding in our hearts for the last year, ever since our country got a new lease on life.
We know this isn't the greeting card kind of hope. It isn't the sweet, simplistic and naive belief everything will work out.
No, this is the kind of hope that I wrote about right before the inauguration in a piece called "Hope is a Four Letter Word":
Hope is not for everyone. It is only for those strong enough -- or desperate enough -- to embrace it. It is cruel, harsh and demanding. Belief in change will break your heart almost every time. Hope won’t let you sit on the sidelines. You can’t take the easy way out. The disillusioned can safely withdraw. The Hopeful are driven to engage.
So tonight, the President reminded us we have a choice. He said that although the last nine months have resulted in tremendous successes, change never comes without struggle and sacrifice. He used an analogy of mopping the floor while other people sit on the sidelines and criticize how you are holding the mop. We got left a huge mess to clean up starting January 20. And we are mopping as fast as we can:
Another way of putting it is when, you know, I'm busy and Nancy is busy with our mop cleaning up somebody else's mess -- we don't want somebody sitting back saying, 'You're not holding the mop the right way.' Why don't you grab a mop, why don't you help clean up. 'You're not mopping fast enough.' 'That's a socialist mop.' Grab a mop -- let's get to work.
We are already engaging in tough fights - first to bring the country back from the brink of economic catastrophe, and now to secure healthcare for all Americans, to safeguard the future of the planet, to give every child a first class education.
Here's what else he told us - this next part is from my notes, I am paraphrasing and recalling quotes as best I can:
The very fact these battles are so hard should "restore in us the sense that there are things worth fighting for." In fact, he said "we are at a rare moment - we have been given the opportunity to remake our world." Not many people live through such key points in history, and we should make the most of it.
The last bit I wrote down, and then cleaned up with the full quote from the story linked above, was the most powerful to me:
I need you guys to understand that what we're trying to do is hard. And I want you to be excited by that. I want you to be energized by that. Because if it was easy it would have already been done. If it was easy it wouldn't have been worth all the effort to get here.
And I want everybody to know who are standing in the way of progress: I'm not tired. I'm just getting started. You can throw whatever you want at me -- keep it coming, we're going to get this done.
"I want you to be energized by that." Energized, not daunted, by the challenge. He gave us a classic organizer view of the world. Fear, cynicism, doubt, apathy -- all these emotions are barriers to action. Organizers can see a hard fight and be energized by it. Energized by anger, tempered with hope and the belief you can make a difference.
As I wrote back in January:
Here’s the kicker: Hope is what makes change possible. In my time out here in the ivory tower I have been reading the work of social movement scholars, and research on what draws everyday individuals to fight tough battles against the status quo. It seems very likely that Hope is an essential ingredient. Unless you believe things can be better, you cannot sustain the sacrifices required to make that happen.
You don’t need to be an expert to see this. Leaders who inspire us to act can offer righteous anger, and devastating critiques. But the greatest offer Hope as well -- not just as a rhetorical flourish, but as an active demand that we step up, supported by the reassurance that our efforts will not be wasted.
The one phrase that really stood out to me last night though was "I'm not tired." Not even after two grueling years of campaigning and nine challenging months of governing. I get tired a lot. I get frustrated and feel let down and wonder if I can keep going. And then I remember that my kids are counting on me. What we are doing right now will make a huge difference in the kind of future they grow up with.
"Finally the tables are starting to turn, talking about a revolution."
In 1988, the revolution sounded a lot like a whisper - at least from the perspective of national politics. The grassroots were making noise, though. Take Back the Night marches. The re-emergence of welfare rights activism. The Sanctuary movement. In Chicago, a young man was working as a community organizer.
Decades later, we are mopping as fast as we can. We are cleaning up the mess that conservative political dominance has made of Washington and our country. That young man took the lessons he learned on the ground in Chicago and talked about a revolution. He talked about a new movement of everyday people taking our country back. This one would get Americans engaged in politics again, and would fight apathy and despair. This one would make hundreds of thousands of Americans into community organizers working in their neighborhoods for change, and get millions to take at least one small step of personal political engagement.
Everywhere we saw the signs of hope and change. But still, sometimes it sounds like a whisper. Because one election is not a revolution. But one election is the first step, the time when finally the tables are starting to turn.
As the President told us, we are closer than we have ever been to comprehensive health insurance reform. The dream of Presidents for 97 years is on the brink of reality. If we do our part. (Click here for the OFA Healthcare Action Center, where you can make calls, write letters to the editor, share healthcare stories and take action today. Or sign up for the big 100,000 phone call day on Tuesday, October 20 here).
Many here have been reminding us lately that it is in our hands. We are on the frontlines of a revolution. And I don't think it sounds . . . like a whisper.
Disclaimer: I am a volunteer with Organizing for America in California. When I write here I speak for myself and not the organization. My diaries, and all the words in them, are my own.