by George White Jr.
Patrice sat at the window facing 22nd Street. Waiting for her order, she listened to Common's latest CD. After thanking Rachel for bringing her food, she turned to the matter at hand: the disfranchisement of blacks. Inspired by what was happening in Florida, she wanted to understand the various means used to control black political power, especially here at home. Just as she was making progress, her friend Barret appeared.
"Hey," he yelled with a broad smile, "what are you doing here?" "Trying to prepare for class," she murmured. "Whatcha studyin'?" "Oh, we're discussing the political crisis following Southern Reconstruction." "Whoa, that sounds heavy," Barret replied with a mock frown. "Speaking of which," he continued, "did you vote?" Patrice smirked. "OK, OK. I'm just checkin'," Barret answered sheepishly. "But what's the problem? Some of us were hyped about the 2000 election," he said, patting his shiny campaign button.
"Sometimes it's hard to get excited when you know that a choice between the lesser of two evils is a choice for evil," Patrice groaned. Barret nodded.
"Patrice, I understand. Besides, with all of the influence of monied interests, sometimes it feels as if the voices of us little folks will never be heeded. But that doesn't mean we should give up!"
Patrice agreed as she nibbled her "all-you-can-eat" riblets. "Of course, B, but I think it's important for us to closely examine the systemic problems that undermine democracy." Barret drew back his head. "You wanna break that down for me, Sistah," he said playfully.
Patrice felt her somber mood lift a bit with the crescendo in "A Song For Assata" playing in the background. "B, have you ever thought about the manner in which Knoxville's City Council representatives are chosen?" Proud of himself, Barret quickly responded, "Yes, we hold primaries in each district and then run-offs are decided by a citywide vote." "That's right," Patrice chimed. "And that means that white people hold veto power over the political choices of black folks."
"What?" Barret sputtered.
"Check it," Patrice continued. "Remember when Danny Mayfield was elected to represent the 6th District? He lost the primary in his own district."
"That's right," Barret agreed.
"But," Patrice resumed, "Danny won the general election with over 3,600 votes citywide."
"Hey," Barret spat, "why you hatin' on Danny?" "I'm not, B. Please don't misunderstand; this is an indictment of the prevailing system, not of Danny. If the people of the 6th District make a choice, why should people outside of the district override that selection? The point of the Voting Rights Act of 1965 was to prevent this type of nullification."
"So why you complainin'?" Barret insisted. "We got some new blood in office and, maybe, someone who will help cultivate young leadership in the community." "Of course," Patrice replied, "but what happens when Danny's no longer the flavor-of-the-month? You saw the reaction to his mayoral candidacy. Even if a good person wins, under the prevailing system, that person can be ousted by a numerical majority despite whatever goodwill or credibility she's created among her constituents."
"Well, try this on for size," Barret replied as he reached for a riblet. "Some people support such a system because they want everyone to have a voice in choosing the elected officials in this town." "I've heard that argument and find it both unpersuasive and deceitful," Patrice said. "Get down, counselor," Barret giggled approvingly.
"Seriously, B. Do you think people in Knoxville would want voters from Memphis or Nashville determining our representatives? That argument is particularly offensive when placed in the historical context of the consistent white exclusion of non-white voters. It's not as obvious as the tricks played in Jacksonville but reaches the same end."
"So what do we do?" asked Barret in all sincerity.
"We need to make this known to our communities, to the black leadership, and finally to those in power," Patrice said. "We should demand a dismantling of this system. But first, I have to finish lunch."
Without a second thought, Barret grabbed his stuff, along with Patrice's backpack, and headed for the door. "Where are you going with..." Patrice demanded.
"Come on, woman. We got work to do. Bring the ribs."
November 30, 2000 * Vol. 10, No. 48
© 2000 Metro Pulse
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