Or first imagine completely belittling the fact that someone who three years ago opposed reparations has since been responsible for leading the most significant nat’l movement in support of that issue that we’ve seen in our lifetime. In the blink-like span of three years.
Imagine the ego that it takes to consistently minimize that accomplishment—for someone to simply shift intellectual gears on an issue and to give it such profound resonance and vitality that it rapidly activates people everywhere across the country to go do the very same.
Imagine having a Goliathan institution like the New York Times to swiftly catapult you into this space and the very first thing you do when you suddenly materialize into it is pretend like all these people have been here for the past 30 years talking this intensely and organizing this seriously around the issue of reparations.
Imagine being made so uneasy by that person’s obvious ability to effectively lead and motivate—feeling it such a direct threat to your own slimy and insignificant career ambitions—that you feign like her supporters are arguing that she was the genesis of certain thought and not, as they are in fact saying, that she is rightly to be acknowledged as being at the genesis of this generation’s transformational push to actually make those thoughts really matter for the lives of ADOS.
Imagine how insecure and like deep-down, little-kid-level scared you have to be to put so much effort into trying to make people look stupid for what they know in their hearts to be absolutely true.
Imagine thinking you could possibly lead. Imagine thinking you could do anything whatsoever except angrily shake your 1619 curriculum at an establishment that—before you even arrived—had already absorbed and neutralized you with ease.
Imagine thinking that you will be remembered as anything but the person who—after #ADOS filled the room up with gas—hurried over and stood there thumbing the wheel of a lighter that just wouldn’t ignite, so pathetically and dreadfully desperate to be the public face of something that you didn’t create.