The Voice of Ida B Wells

I shall speak plainly, for truth does not tremble when it stands alone.

Has this city truly awakened, or does it still slumber beneath the weight of silence? Twenty-five thousand dollars sits upon the table—unanswered, unexamined—yet not a whisper dares disturb it. And now, as the season of elections draws near, we witness a sudden display of presence: handshakes extended, photographs taken, appearances made where absence once ruled.

Observe closely. A man who once stood distant now finds himself among the very people he scarcely acknowledged—posing for pictures in those same worn brown shoes and an ill-fitting suit, as though repetition of appearance might pass for sincerity. But the people must not be fooled by staged moments and borrowed smiles.

Power, when left unchecked, does not scatter—it gathers. It arranges itself carefully, like pieces upon a chessboard. And what do we see before us? Positions being filled, alliances being secured, influence consolidating within a single circle—when the ex leads the chamber, and whose husband seeks to be Chief. Thus, governance begins to resemble not public service, but private inheritance.

And still, the people watch.

Will no one rise to challenge what is plainly before us? Will we allow a photograph, a handshake, a flattering article—perhaps even the mention  “Moody’s Cafe”—to erase years marked by exclusion, dismissal, and the quiet clearing out of voices that once filled City Hall?

Let us not confuse visibility with virtue.

Diversity is not proven in moments of convenience, nor summoned only when votes are needed. It is revealed in consistent action, in equitable opportunity, in who is invited to the table—and who is not. If one’s presence is only welcomed in service roles or during election season, then it is not inclusion—it is utility.

Do not be deceived.

The measure of leadership is not found in who is seen during campaign season, but in who was valued when no one was watching.