An Elegy for Elizabeth Warren’s Candidacy
“One last story,” an emotional Senator Elizabeth Warren says on the call with her staffers and volunteers on March 5th. “One last story.”
She goes on to speak about a supporter of hers, who whispers “dream big” to her children every night, to an adorable, sleepy response of “fight hard.” The call is somber, as it should be; Elizabeth is announcing the suspension of her presidential bid, just two days after a disappointing Super Tuesday that included a third place finish in her home state. But just like this story, the call is thoughtful, full of gratitude—and still, hope.
Elizabeth Warren’s campaign was built on exactly this: highlighting the lives of everyday Americans. It was built on liberty green and four hour-long selfie lines, on dancing with pride boas and pinky promises to young girls. It was built on everything good left in American politics—all the joy, all the conviction, all the resistance. While the opposition dealt in “electability” punditry, Elizabeth’s campaign urged voters to choose “hope over fear” and “courage over cynicism.”
I have been thinking a lot about political courage. After spending hundreds of hours on the campaign, talking to voters about the issues they care about and discovering firsthand how policy affects the personal, I think I have learned quite a bit about political courage. And watching Elizabeth, too, has taught me: when she read a Coretta Scott King letter on the Senate floor to oppose Jeff Sessions’s nomination for attorney general—which earned her the infamous admonishment from Senate Majority Leader Mitch McConnell. When she really did have a plan for everything, from repealing campaign finance law-neutering Citizens United to building green infrastructure to finding a way to fix your love life. When, before she ever ran for office, she left “plenty of blood and teeth on the floor” in her fight to create the Consumer Financial Protection Bureau, which returned $12 billion to consumers in its first six years.
“Nevertheless, she persisted.” “She has a plan for that.” And, as the primary became increasingly contentious, “blood and teeth.” These are the origins of her presidential campaign slogans. There are more, of course—her slogans were as innumerable as her plans. The classic “dream big, fight hard”; the cry for “big, structural change”; or the pithy and effective “persist.” Behind every word, substance. Behind every word, a vision. Behind every word, a woman working to get it done.
It could be said that Elizabeth Warren was the best candidate for the office of president that America has seen in a long, long time. Maybe ever. She had the progressive platform, the practical plans to back them up, and the wherewithal and experience to build coalitions in order to enact real change. Michael Harriot (who, apropos of nothing, wrote the illuminating and scathing “Pete Buttigieg is a Lying MF” in late 2019), ranked every Democratic candidates’ “Black Agenda” and gave Elizabeth’s plan the highest score. She gained support and endorsements from Black activists throughout the nation, including her campaign co-chair Congresswoman Ayanna Pressley, trans journalist Ashlee Marie Preston, and law professor Kimberlé Crenshaw, who coined the term “intersectionality.” She had comprehensive plans not only for Black America, but for other marginalized groups as well. Disability activists praised her groundbreaking disability policy. Her plan for Asian Americans, the most underserved group in politics, highlighted the diversity of the AAPI community. She was prepared for everything. She had a plan for “preventing, containing, and treating infectious disease outbreaks at home and abroad,” and has updated it several times as coronavirus has grown into a global pandemic.
It isn’t just that I believed in Elizabeth. Belief in one person, especially in politics, can only go so far. I believed in her vision. I believed in the America she wanted, the America she detailed in her plans—the America that would have an incremented wealth tax, abolish private prisons, and provide a national health care system. I believed in that America, the one that might finally fulfill the promise of its revolutionary upbringing. I believe in that America.
And isn’t that political courage? Still believing, still fighting, still persisting, even when your candidate is out. It is the smallest, palest shadow to the political courage Elizabeth Warren has shown throughout her tenure as an elected official. So it is only fair that we keep at it. That we work to elect the Democratic nominee, whomever they may be. This is it, then. Our next fight. Our next act of political courage.
“Our work continues,” Elizabeth says at the end of her call. Her voice holds all the conviction all the world—the conviction I see mirrored in her staffers, in her supporters, in myself. In the coming weeks, she will continue to work tirelessly to shape the Democratic Party’s response to the COVID-19 crisis. Despite the end of her presidential bid, she will continue to be a leader on the forefront of progressive politics. She will, as Mitch McConnell said of her on the Senate floor what seems like so many years ago, persist. “The fight goes on. And big dreams never die.”
by KELLY HUI