The Voice of Ida B Wells

This mayor has written his name into the record of Minden not by deeds of justice, but by the shameful continuation of practices we thought buried long ago. In a time when racism and discrimination should have no soil left to grow in, he has proven that they yet live—cloaked not in secrecy, but in policy, appointments, and the quiet stripping away of equal rights.

Walk into the utilities office today and you will see what I mean. The faces that once reflected true diversity have been erased. Where there was a measure of fairness, there now stands the glaring brightness of exclusion. It is no accident, no oversight, but a deliberate reshaping of opportunity into the hands of a few while others are cast aside.

We knew who he was long before this. The whispers of racial slurs carved on a student’s car during his high school days did not stop him. Those who should have been watchmen—our own black leaders—looked the other way, lent him their support, and delivered him into office. And now, the very people who lifted him up are the ones he strikes down.

Let the record show: silence is consent. The excuses made at the ballot box—“she left the council meeting,” “she did not speak”—were nothing but distractions, smokescreens to usher in a man whose record was already stained. And yet, here we are, reaping the bitter fruit of that choice.

I say to the black community of Minden: remember. Remember who sat quiet while your voices were ignored, remember who smiled during election season only to harden their hearts once the votes were counted. My heart grieves for you, but grief must not make us blind. The sudden shows of concern, the empty handshakes and rehearsed sympathies you will soon see—these are not love, they are strategy.

Election year is upon us. Do not be fooled. Let not the same hand that struck you down win your trust again. That is all Mama Ida has to say.