John,
This Father’s Day has me thinking a lot about what it means to be a father in today’s America. What it means to be a black father in America. What it means to celebrate fatherhood today in America, with so many crises unfolding on top of one another.
I think about those fathers who have to have “the talk” with their black sons about how to stay safe during—how to survive—encounters with the police. I think about how broken our system is that burdens families like ours with this ritual. Today, as a mother of black children myself, I honor them, and I feel for them.
I think about my own father, Alderman Errol Bush. Growing up my father got pulled over by the police so often, even as a local elected official, that the only thing that made sense to me was that he must not be a very good driver. But as I got older, I understood. He wasn’t a bad driver. He was a black driver. He was driving in a city where, today, black drivers are 95% more likely to be stopped by the police than white drivers. Today, I honor him, and I am so grateful for him.
I think about those fathers—disproportionately black and brown—who are essential workers or are on the front lines of the fight against this deadly pandemic. I think about the fathers, and their families, who don’t have the luxury or privilege to work from home or self quarantine, but who are, instead, risking their lives daily to help keep a country and an economy going that so often doesn’t care about them. I think of those essential fathers who today—yes, even today—cannot safely see their children and loved ones because of the sacrifice we demand of them. Today, I honor them, and I fear for them.
I think about those fathers who have lost their lives to state violence, murdered by the police, so often just for the color of their skin. From George Floyd, to Eric Garner, so many fathers have been taken from us. I think about their children, who will be deprived of their fathers. Today, I honor them, and I mourn them.
Today, we honor the fathers in our lives, but the fathers—and their families— who I’m thinking about today need more than just one day. We must honor them, and fight for them, every day.
And that’s exactly what this campaign is about. It’s about fighting every day to show people that they matter. It’s about fighting every day to end the inequities in policing, in healthcare, across our entire economy that threaten our fathers, our families, our communities. It’s about coming together, because these fights are too big for any one of us to go at it alone.
In solidarity,
Cori Bush
Paid for by Cori Bush for Congress
Cori Bush for Congress
75 North Oaks Plaza
St. Louis, MO 63121
United States
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