In April of 2018, I attended the South Carolina Democratic Party’s convention as a “campaign manager.” I was on the inside, a somewhat-welcomed presence among the establishment folks I so often challenged in my work as an activist. I was able to rub elbows with gubernatorial candidates. Enjoy small talk over drinks with well known political operatives. I was even able to snap a few selfies with the likes of former Ohio state senator-turned-Bernie Sanders surrogate Nina Turner. It was overwhelming then and remains so, even in memory. Yes, I was in the room, but was I seen?
Serving as a campaign manager was never my thing. Sure, I could handle each of my core roles. It simply wasn’t a great use of my activist voice or signature skill set: Speaking truth to power.
Ultimately, I found the roles carved out for women like me, Black women, who want to participate in electoral politics here in South Carolina limiting. Toting the water for the establishment isn’t rewarding. So, it’s not difficult to imagine why I felt chaffed and uncomfortable trying to fit into a space designed to fit someone else.
As I reflect on my trip back to Columbia for state party’s Democratic Weekend last month, it’s with profound delight. No tickets to the Blue Palmetto Dinner. No fancy VIP cocktail hours. Nope. Just me and my friends at a fish fry. (And not just any ol’ fish fry.) Attending Jim Clyburn’s World Famous Fish Fry this go ’round renewed my faith, not just in the anti-oppression work I try to create here in Charleston, but the faith I had in my own voice.
You see, I forged my own way into a space that typically centers around men and male leadership. I repeatedly navigated a crowd upwards of 4,000 people. I watched intently as I saw men offer up their political “hot takes” to national news outlets. I listened in as those anointed as “chairman” of campaigns puffed out their chests as they heaped praise on their favorite candidate 500+ days ahead of the 2020 presidential election.
I have no personal issue with any of the men I encountered during the convention weekend, though I was left wondering, where are the powerful women? Where were the women surrogates? Where were the women strategists and speech writers? Where were the women “Kingmakers”? (Gendered honorifics are so corny, but you get my point.)
Outside of a small number of high profile positions offered to a chosen few from within the establishment, there’s little to no opportunity for truly progressive operatives. So for those like me, we have to be willing to forge our own pathway forward. Courageous leadership is not without profound loneliness. And so, it is with the courage of my conviction that I continue to blaze my own trail as I fight for parity and inclusion in South Carolina electoral politics. Just like Septima had to.
Tamika Gadsden is the manager of the Charleston Activist Network platform.
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