Black Women Remain the Beating Heart of Democracy in America
Two years ago, in the aftermath of the 2024 presidential election, I wrote an essay titled, It's Time to Put Down Our Capes. Like so many Black women, I was disillusioned, discouraged, and exhausted. We had shown up for democracy, mobilized our communities, encouraged our loved ones to vote, and poured ourselves into an election that felt like a referendum on our collective talents and value. When the results came in, it was hard not to feel that all of that work—hell, our very existence—had been rejected.
I wrote about the need to give ourselves permission to grieve and to stop accepting the expectation that Black women must continually save a country that does not always protect us.
But putting down our capes was never about giving up. We went back to work. We showed up for ourselves, our families, and our communities, organizing, mobilizing, advocating, and building the relationships and infrastructure necessary to create change— in our neighborhoods, our workplaces, and at the ballot box.
And this week, we're seeing some of the fruits of that labor. The 2026 midterm elections delivered historic milestones for women across the country. Keisha Lance Bottoms became the first Black woman elected governor in U.S. history. Juliana Stratton's victory in Illinois means three Black women will serve concurrently in the U.S. Senate for the first time. Melat Kiros made history as the first Black woman elected to represent Colorado in Congress, and in Georgia, Penny Brown Reynolds became the state's first Black woman secretary of state, while all eight Black women running for statewide office won their races.
All of these victories deserve to be celebrated. But for me, one moment was particularly moving: watching Keisha Lance Bottoms' gubernatorial victory.
Tears slowly fell as I thought about the years of organizing and political groundwork that made this moment possible, including the historic campaigns of Stacey Abrams in Georgia. Her work, alongside the efforts of countless organizers, advocates, and voters, helped build civic infrastructure that extends far beyond any single election.
These victories did not happen overnight, and they did not happen in a vacuum. I was reminded of that earlier this fall when I heard Abrams speak in Chicago. Her keynote was about community, collective power, and defending democracy—not simply by showing up to vote, but by understanding the power we have to shape what comes next.
One line has stayed with me:
“Democracy does not need us to wait. Democracy needs us to know we are entitled and we are enough right now.”
Through her 10 Steps campaign, Abrams outlined the work required to protect and strengthen our democracy, from organizing and mobilizing to electing and demanding. Her call to vote in every election, up and down the ballot, was a reminder that democracy is not something we can afford to engage with only once every four years. It requires sustained participation, accountability, and a willingness to demand the future we deserve.
That work is visible here in Texas, too. Gina Hinojosa's election as the first Latina governor of Texas marks a significant shift in a state where Republicans have dominated statewide leadership for years. It reflects people across communities who organized, advocated, and showed up for a different vision of the state's future. Black women were an essential part of that work, fighting for reproductive health, equitable education, and a government that recognizes the dignity and needs of the people it serves.
I saw that commitment firsthand when I went to vote at my polling place in Harris County,
which surpassed its previous midterm turnout record with more than 1.31 million ballots cast by 5 p.m. on Election Day. I thanked the Black women, many of them older, who volunteered their time to facilitate early voting and keep our elections running. Their work is no small undertaking—and it comes with real risks.
We've seen what happens when Black women election workers become targets of harassment and intimidation. Ruby Freeman and her daughter, Shaye Moss, were subjected to racist attacks, false accusations, and death threats after working the 2020 election in Georgia. Their experiences should remind us that the people who make our democracy function deserve protection, respect, and support—not threats for doing their jobs.
No one's vote should be taken for granted. Black women are not simply the reliable voting bloc of the Democratic Party. We are organizers, strategists, advocates, community builders, and leaders. We are the beating heart and backbone of democracy, even when the work feels backbreaking and thankless.
And we deserve more than recognition for what we contribute. We deserve the resources, opportunities, and protection to lead without constantly having to prove that we belong. We deserve relationships, workplaces, institutions, and communities that invest in us as much as they benefit from our labor. We deserve to shape the decisions that affect our lives, not simply be called upon when someone needs us to save the day.
So, thank you to my fellow Black women who never gave up. To those who allowed themselves to process disappointment and frustration, who took the time to rest, and who eventually decided to get back up and keep fighting for what we deserve. In the workplace, in our relationships, in our communities, and at the ballot box.
We are allowed to put down our capes. We are allowed to rest. And we are allowed to celebrate what happens when our collective labor creates something extraordinary.
I'll leave you with the chorus from one of my favorite Beyoncé songs, “American Requiem”:
Can we stand for something? Now is the time to face the wind Now ain't the time to pretend Now is the time to let love in
America, on election night, the majority let the love in and rejected the hate. Now it's time to face what comes next: continuing to make history, building on the work that brought us here, and holding those in power accountable.
With love, hope and solidarity,
—Nicole B.
Comments