Opinion

Stand with heads held high

  As we await the results of the most important presidential elections of our time, I am reminded of a gospel song that we sing in the Black church as a testament to our resilience. It’s called “Stand.”

“What do you do when you’ve done all you can, and it seems like it’s never enough? …

Tell me, what do you give when you’ve given your all, and it seems like you can’t make it through?

Well, you just stand when there’s nothing left to do. …

After you’ve done all you can, you just stand.”

Donnie McClurkin’s lyrics are soothing in a time of uncertainty. His words give us hope when we find ourselves wondering if we tried hard enough. And they reassure us that, indeed, we did all that we could.

So at the end of the day, after every ballot is cast, all we can do is stand.

Regardless of the outcome, we can stand tall knowing that we fought against Donald Trump’s despotic abuse of power with courage and valor. We can hold our heads high because we stood for the things that we know in our souls are right.

We stood not only for ourselves, but also for those who are unable to stand on their own.

We stood against the brutal killing of a Black man in Minnesota, who died with a ruthless cop’s knee pressed to his neck. Not only did we stand up for George Floyd, we stood up for Breonna Taylor, Laquan McDonald, Ahmaud Arbery and Rayshard Brooks, And at this moment, we are standing for Walter Wallace Jr. in Philadelphia.

We stood up for the Central American children who were placed in cages and inhumanely separated from their parents at our border. We stood up against the deadly attack on the Tree of Life synagogue in Pittsburgh — one of the most horrific anti-Semitic events in modern history.

We refused to normalize police misconduct. We marched onward, through swinging billy clubs and tear gas, because in troubling times like these, we had no other choice.

We stood up against racism and bigotry, rejecting Trump’s claim that in clashes between white supremacists and ordinary Americans, there are good people on both sides.

We stood up for Heather Heyer, who was killed while standing up against white nationalists in Charlottesville, Va. We are still standing for Joseph Rosenbaum and Anthony Huber, who were shot to death at a social justice protest in Kenosha, Wis.

We stood against Trump’s call for “law and order” because we understood it was nothing more than a political wedge issue designed to create more chaos between police officers and the Black and brown communities they are sworn to serve.

We stood with Chicago, Los Angeles and New York when they refused to back down as sanctuary cities, despite Trump’s executive order restricting their federal funding. We chose instead to stand for compassion and the preservation of families.

We stood up against Trump’s “travel ban,” which sought to stop people from Muslim countries from entering the United States. We rejected his insinuation that the immigrants coming from Mexico to America were rapist and criminals.

Most importantly, we said “hell no” to a president who longed to be a dictator. We refused to accept the notion that the president is above the law. And we stood for Trump’s impeachment for abusing his power and obstructing Congress.

The past four years have been difficult for our country. Our democracy has been under constant siege, not just from the outside, but just as vigilantly from within. Even if he is defeated, Trump will leave a legacy of turmoil, division and grief.

The trail of destruction will take years, even decades, to repair. It will not happen in some of our lifetimes. But hopefully, we can soon begin clearing the debris.

No matter what happens in the end, though, we will always be resilient people. We have stood strong for four years and if we must, we will stand for four more.

And we will look for strength in simple things, like a song by McClurkin.

“Tell me, how do you handle the guilt of your past?

Tell me, how do you deal with the strain?

And how can you smile when your heart has been broken and filled with pain?

Tell me, what do you give when you’ve given your all, and it seems like you can’t make it through?

Child, you just stand, when there’s nothing left to do.”

 Dahleen Glanton is a columnist for the Chicago Tribune.