Last night here at Happy Acres—a retirement community in the Atlanta metropolitan area—the progressives took over the community room to watch the election results together. I had the good fortune to sit next to Beth, my lover, my partner, and my life companion of 57 years. Like Madame Defarge in A Tale of Two Cities, Beth sat knitting, knitting.
A couple of weeks ago, my oncologist told me not to worry too much about the cancer. The medicine is still working and besides, he said, “something else will probably kill you first.” Last night I almost died of joy. Ossoff’s win was welcome but expected. But we were not at all sure that Georgia would elect the first Black woman governor in the United States.
In my life, I have had to put up to a lot of racist bullshit. When I was a little boy, Daddy voted for George Wallace and liked to repeat what he heard down at the shop: that all nine Supreme Court justices were card-carrying Communists and got their monthly paychecks from Moscow. It was Fox News before Fox News, Trumpism before Trump.
As we wake this morning, yes, there are still people who are Confederates at heart. But. as of this morning, it is as clear as day that catering to the remaining Confederates is a foolproof way for politicians to go down in flames.
As Dr. King put it, “Free at last, free at last; thank God Almighty we are free at last.”
