This year, voting felt different. Amid the heightened rhetoric, it’s unnerving to consistently hear that millions have sided with a man, a party, a collective determined to destroy, deny, and deflect. The method of ‘how we do politics’ isn’t lost on me. It also isn’t lost on me that the blame doesn’t entirely rest with these supporters. While not absolving them of complicity, I believe many have been systematically deceived.
Reliable data reveal an embarrassing truth about the United States’ literacy rate. According to the Barbara Bush Foundation for Family Literacy, 130 million Americans—54% of adults between the ages of 16 and 74—read below the equivalent of a sixth-grade level. That statistic plunged me into a depression for almost three years. Often, I found myself questioning the point of speaking out, fighting for truth, or fighting at all. This year, our battle extends beyond mere policy. It encompasses more than vibes, more than deliberate racism, harmful misogyny, and the emergence of a feeble patriarchy. We are confronting ignorance—an ignorance exploited by political parties armed with vast data, actively employing Big Data to manipulate algorithms and, ultimately, the choices of many unsuspecting Americans.
We are combating not only individuals intentionally deceived but also the algorithms that urge campaigns to push boundaries. Moreover, we grapple with about 130 million people who struggle with basic literacy—individuals who own businesses, raise families, and actively participate in our society. They are deeply embedded in our new media landscape, undoubtedly bombarded with extreme misinformation. Lies. Conflation. Conspiracy. An empty mind becomes the fertile ground for such deceptions.
In discussing this bizarre phenomenon in a country that often proclaims itself the best in the world, one must tread carefully with words. The risk isn’t just being accused of ‘othering’ or assuming inferiority; it’s misunderstanding the true scope of victimhood. Be wise with your language—not merely to avoid accusation but to acknowledge these individuals as victims. Before you rush to demand that these adults ‘get it together’ and take responsibility, remember the broader context we’ve discussed.
When a fascist, misogynistic, racist candidate leads a party, proclaimed for a decade as the second coming of Christ, it unnerves me. The support for his fascism, misogyny, and bigotry disturbs me deeply. It’s challenging to overlook that these could be one-third of the individuals I encounter daily. But that’s precisely why I felt different. I am not a pollster, nor a pundit. I am a Black man, an American citizen, a journalist. I understand America—its supremacy, capitalism, and what it means to survive. Despite everything, my disgust deepens. I am appalled that my people continue to sacrifice for a country that exploits them, leaves them precariously perched on every cliff, throws them before the oncoming trains of opportunism, borrows their culture, and sells it for the price of narcissistic indulgence steeped in white supremacy.
It’s important to recognize that feeling frustration in your optimism is okay. You’re not forsaking your faith or your principles; you’re confronting a harsh reality—a truth too often denied, ignored, and dismissed for centuries. With earnest conviction, I hope, pray, and root for the best. For me, the best outcome tonight would be Kamala Harris’ election. I believe she is the best choice for Black Americans, the wisest decision for America. Let’s unite in hope for the best.
-Alex
