[ Her willingness to learn from her base, while holding fast to
principles and being willing to take a public stand even when that
stand might cost her, offers a lesson to the party in how to evolve in
the years to come.] [[link removed]]

NINA TURNER IS REACHING FORWARD AND REACHING BACK  
[[link removed]]


 

Sarah Jaffe
July 1, 2021
The American Prospect
[[link removed]]


*
[[link removed]]
*
[[link removed]]
*
* [[link removed]]

_ Her willingness to learn from her base, while holding fast to
principles and being willing to take a public stand even when that
stand might cost her, offers a lesson to the party in how to evolve in
the years to come. _

Nina Turner introduces Democratic presidential candidate Sen. Bernie
Sanders during a campaign event, January 4, 2020, in Mason City,
Iowa., Patrick Semansky/AP Photo // The World Life Today

 

The first time I saw Nina Turner speak was at the 2017 People’s
Summit, a gathering of faithful Bernie Sanders supporters after his
first presidential run, hosted by National Nurses United. It was well
into the Trump presidency, and Turner was out to rouse the crowd to
action.

RoseAnn DeMoro, then executive director of NNU, introduced her as the
Sanders movement’s “spiritual leader.” She took the stage
[[link removed]] in
a floor-length magenta dress and cat-eye glasses, and proceeded to
rock the crowd like a combination of Martin Luther King Jr. and Iggy
Pop. Halfway through her speech—punctuated, call-and-response-style,
with the refrain “With these hands we will rise up”—she hopped
off the stage and continued to speak while moving through the crowd,
whipping them to a standing ovation, then dropping them to complete
silence. Turner pointed out that when Black women like her speak out,
“sometimes we are accused of being called angry.” She paused for
emphasis. “This morning I am here to say to you my name is Nina
Turner and I am an angry ass Black woman.” As the crowd roared its
approval, she laughed and invited them to “be an angry Black
woman” with her.

More from Sarah Jaffe [[link removed]]

Toward the end of her speech, Turner turned to the crowd, grabbing the
hands of two audience members and pulling them close to her. “We
have two hands. One to reach forward and the other to reach back,”
she said. It struck me then and now as a perfect explanation for what
left-leaning elected officials, and particularly Turner herself, are
trying to do: reach forward to the movements on the ground, taking
ideas from Black Lives Matter and economic and climate justice
organizers, and reaching back to those who might not be on board yet,
convincing them that a broad progressive movement has something to
offer them too.

Now that she’s running for Congress, in the special election to fill
Marcia Fudge’s vacant seat in Ohio’s 11th District, Turner is
hoping to bring that work to Washington. The Democratic establishment
hasn’t forgiven her for choosing Sanders over Hillary Clinton, and
is lining up to try to defeat her. But if they could get over past
slights, mainstream Democrats could see in Turner’s approach a path
out of the stalemates and bickering that usually characterize their
time in power. Her willingness to learn from her base, while holding
fast to principles and being willing to take a public stand even when
that stand might cost her, offers a lesson to the party in how to
evolve in the years to come.

IN MAY, I VISITED TURNER in her campaign office, finding that same
charisma present in her public speeches and in one-on-one
conversations, the same humor, the same intensity. The office was in
the Cleveland neighborhood where she’d grown up, known as
Lee-Harvard. She lived with her maternal grandparents and what she
described as “a network of grandmamas” in the neighborhood,
keeping an eye on her and the other kids. Her mother, a nurse’s
aide, struggled to care for seven children and deal with her own
health, and died at just 42. Turner credits her mother’s death for
her devotion to Medicare for All as a policy, and her experience
getting a series of jobs as a teenager to help the family stay afloat
for her determination to raise wages for the nation’s working
people.

Turner has been in public service in some fashion since 1997, when she
took a job as a legislative aide to state Sen. Rhine McLin
[[link removed]], then
worked for the city of Cleveland’s school district. She won a seat
on Cleveland’s city council in 2005 and then was appointed to
replace a resigning state senator in 2008. In the state Senate, she
attracted national attention
[[link removed]] when,
in protest against (male) legislators’ continuing attempts to
restrict reproductive health care, she introduced a bill that would
require men to jump through the same kind of hoops to get Viagra that
women are required to in order to get an abortion. It would have
mandated a cardiac stress test and proof from a recent partner that
they are indeed experiencing erectile dysfunction. The audacity—and
humor—of that bill were a hallmark of her style, and give an
indication of the kind of fights she might pick on Capitol Hill.

As a sitting state senator and a rising star in Ohio’s Democratic
Party, Turner ran for secretary of state in 2014, looking forward to
the next presidential election in a key swing state, and back at the
long history of denying Black people in particular access to the
ballot. She lost that race and hasn’t run for office since. But when
Fudge, who represents the district where Turner has spent most of her
life, was chosen as secretary of housing and urban development,
“this assignment chose me,” Turner said.

But Turner is known best outside of Ohio as one of Bernie Sanders’s
earliest supporters. And while her local supporters speak approvingly
of her time in office and her approachability on the campaign trail,
she continues to be drawn back into the endless clamor rehashing the
2016 primary.

As the Vermont senator’s first Black endorser “of note,” she
unwittingly stepped squarely into one of the more persistent—and
persistently wrong—narratives of left-of-center politics in the past
five years: that the politics of race and of class are somehow
opposed, and that Sanders and the growing democratic socialist
movement in the U.S. represent a mostly white base that wants to
subordinate “identity politics” to the all-encompassing mantle of
class.

Before the 2016 presidential race began, Turner, then chair of
engagement in the Ohio Democratic Party, had accepted an invitation to
speak at a Ready for Hillary event. She had just come off her bruising
secretary of state race, where she and every other statewide Democrat
had lost, and, she said, “like a good Democrat,” she’d agreed to
appear. She gave the keynote address
[[link removed]] at
the rally. “Quite frankly, I didn’t think anybody else was going
to run.”

When Sanders announced his campaign, Turner said, her husband called
her, saying, “This guy sounds just like you!” She remembered
Sanders from his eight-and-a-half-hour
[[link removed]] speech
in 2010 decrying a bipartisan tax deal, and the idea that he might run
that kind of uncompromising campaign stuck with her. His calls for
Medicare for All reminded her of her mother’s untimely death;
College for All recalled her own grind to become a first-generation
college graduate. But friends warned her: “If you do this, they’re
going to come for you.”

Campaign signs dot a Cleveland gas station where Nina Turner spoke
with constituents. (Mike Ferguson / The American Prospect)
It still frustrates Turner that people “don’t understand the
deliberate way I made this decision.” She had to resign her position
with the state party, and MSNBC got wind of her endorsement as she was
on the way to Iowa. “You would have thought I said that I was
running for president,” she laughed. “When that word got out, it
just went like wildfire.” But the warnings had been right: People
did come for her, on Twitter and in private. That first day, she said,
she cried. “Democrats will rail against Republicans and Republicans
will rail against Democrats, but both power structures do basically
the same thing to people on the inside who don’t bend to their
will,” Turner said. “That is the side of politics that is ugly and
that is the side of politics internally that I want to be a part of
changing.”

Turner has “no regrets” about aligning with Sanders’s movement,
even though she’s taken plenty of flak for it. The expectation that
as a woman, and particularly as a Black woman, she was inherently
disposed to support Clinton makes her laugh now, with a look in her
eyes that says she’s sick of this subject, but knows she has to talk
about it. “A. Philip Randolph was a leftist,” she said of the
legendary Black union organizer and civil rights leader. “The
working class comes in all shapes and sizes and identities. It always
has been that way and always will be.”

In fact, the left’s recent electoral success has been led by Black
and brown people, immigrants and children of immigrants. Even before
Sanders’s run for the presidency, there was Chokwe Lumumba in
Jackson, Mississippi, and Kshama Sawant in Seattle. Around the
country, there are local elected officials like khalid kamau in South
Fulton, Georgia; Jabari Brisport, Jessica Ramos, and others in New
York’s state legislature; and Carlos Ramirez-Rosa, Rossana Rodriguez
Sanchez, and the other members of the city council’s Democratic
Socialist Caucus in Chicago. In Congress, the core “Squad” looks
like today’s working class: Alexandria Ocasio-Cortez, a Latina and
former bartender from the Bronx; Ilhan Omar, from the same Somali
immigrant community where workers made the first dent in Amazon’s
armor; Rashida Tlaib, the Palestinian American daughter of a Ford
factory worker who in her every speech acknowledges her roots in
Detroit’s Black struggle; and the incandescent Cori Bush, who roots
her politics in her days and nights in the Ferguson uprising, and who
alongside Black former school principal Jamaal Bowman traveled to
Alabama to support Amazon workers’ union drive.

The fights may continue on Twitter, but in the real world, people
simply get on with the work, organizing around the issues that touch
their lives. Turner’s recognition of the connections between racial
and class struggles could make her an oddly unifying figure in
Congress—but her foes still want to characterize her as a
troublemaker.

FOR THE LAST FIVE YEARS, Turner has been the most visible face of the
Sanders movement besides Sanders’s own. She was president of Our
Revolution, the group that inherited Sanders’s email list and some
of his movement’s momentum, from 2016 to 2019.

Like many organizations spun off from a rebel candidate’s
unsuccessful electoral campaign—or indeed, successful one, if Barack
Obama’s Organizing for America is to be included—Our Revolution
had a harder time filtering its focus down to the grassroots level
than it did marshaling support for the name-brand candidate. Just
because it has access to the coveted email list doesn’t mean that it
can maintain the level of intensity of a presidential campaign in the
years in between.

What would Our Revolution be? Would it fight for policies or do
political education? Would it organize at the grassroots or be a PAC
for endorsing candidates? It’s not, after all, as if the U.S. lacks
for progressive political organizations, from MoveOn to DSA. Turner
was invested in making OR a venue for coalition-building, at a deeper
level than hitting people up for donations every two or four years.
The Black church, she noted, is a constant campaign stop for Democrats
who then don’t show up until the next election. “It’s not so
much that you’re going to be able to solve every problem that they
have,” she said, “but people don’t want to be used.”

Our Revolution consisted of hundreds of chapters and over a
quarter-million members across the country; Turner described visiting
all but three states during her time there. However, David Duhalde,
OR’s former political director, wrote in _Jacobin
[[link removed]]_,
“the truth behind these numbers painted a more complex picture of a
grassroots group trying to square its democratic and insurgent
narrative with a traditional nonprofit structure and nonuniform
separation of power.” Turner, Duhalde told me, supported local
groups making decisions for themselves, and campaigned for candidates
up and down the ballot. “She knew as a former state representative
the importance of building a bench and how much politics happens
locally.”

But Turner also had public critics. Erika Andiola, OR’s political
director before Duhalde, wrote
[[link removed]] that
she was fired for her involvement with direct action around the DREAM
Act, and criticized Turner’s hiring of Tezlyn Figaro
[[link removed]],
sharing screenshots of Figaro’s tweets referring to “illegal
immigrants.” Lucy Flores, another prominent early Sanders backer and
OR board member, left the group, telling Politico
[[link removed]] that
she’d been concerned that Latinx issues were getting short shrift
within the group and that Turner spent more time building her own
profile at the expense of the organization. (Figaro later filed suit
against OR for racial discrimination
[[link removed]].)

Duhalde, for his part, spoke highly of Turner’s stewardship of the
organization. “She was an amazing leader and I think that there’s
a lot of things that she led on in the Berniecrat movement that she
doesn’t get credit for,” he said.

Of her time with OR, Turner said that presidential campaigns can sweep
a lot of disagreement under the rug temporarily, as disparate
supporters rally to a particular candidate. “In
politics—especially electoral politics—we build this soft
coalition,” she said. “It’s not sturdy because you are not
really getting to know and hear from the people what their hopes and
dreams and fears are.”

Turner, like the majority of OR’s staff, left the organization to
return to Sanders’s second presidential campaign, and OR’s new
leadership has focused on jobs and on challenging President Biden to
do better by workers in a changing economy. (I wrote about some of
that work for the _Prospect _in November
[[link removed]].)
But its effectiveness still varies state by state.

In Ohio, the local organizing is just emerging from the pandemic,
according to Diane Morgan, chair of OR Ohio. She’s been organizing
online events, some socially distanced rallies, and plenty of
phone-banking last fall to defeat Trump, and to prepare for a
contested election. The organization has also worked on reforming
Cleveland’s city council, and organized around a civilian police
review board. Of course, they’re also getting the vote out for Nina
Turner. “We’ve got these ‘I’m vaccinated’ buttons that
people can wear when they go out and canvass to show people when
they’re at the door,” she said. “And we’ve got people from
across the country sending out postcards.”

Despite its struggles, Turner said that the value of OR and the
Sanders campaign was that “it made people believe that politics
could bend towards the will of the everyday person.” And to OR
members in Ohio, Morgan said, Turner continues that practice. “When
we send someone to Congress, it’s going to have to be someone
who’s really going to go there and fight for us.”

Nina Turner campaigns to represent the Ohio district where she has
spent most of her life. (Mike Ferguson / The American Prospect)
THE SQUAD MEMBERS HAVE ALL endorsed Turner in the crowded 11th
District primary, with 13 candidates scheduled to square off on
August 3. So have a long list of unions, and progressive groups like
the Working Families Party, MoveOn, Justice Democrats, and of course
Our Revolution, the Sanders campaign spinoff she used to run.

But so have several mainstream Democrats, including Cleveland’s
mayor, Frank Jackson
[[link removed]],
and a string of state and local legislators
[[link removed]--].
Turner’s disinterest in calling herself a socialist may have cost
her Cleveland Democratic Socialists of America’s endorsement,
but Akron DSA
[[link removed]] endorsed
her anyway. She came up through the Democratic Party mainstream—even
dabbling in pro–charter school “education reform”
[[link removed]] while
in the state Senate—but took the last four years to devote herself
to building its left and to reforming its institutions. While her
campaign ads still call for Medicare for All and other positions to
the left of President Biden, she’s toned down her criticisms of him
to a degree, and tried to focus on running a campaign that will fire
up progressives around policy rather than by attacking the
establishment wing.

Perhaps more than any of Sanders’s other prominent supporters,
Turner has paid a price for her move to the left. From the moment she
announced the congressional run, there was a call for “Anybody but
Nina” to oppose her for Fudge’s seat. “That gave me some
pause,” she said. ‘Damn, really?! Anybody but me?!’”

When we spoke, she’d been recently stung by insinuations that
her position on Israel
[[link removed]] would
hurt her relationship with her Jewish constituents. (Turner has spoken
out against anti-BDS laws, though she is not a BDS supporter; she had
approvingly retweeted
[[link removed]] an
action by anti-occupation Jewish organization IfNotNow; she supports
placing conditions on military aid to Israel—none of which are
extreme positions but which place her certainly outside of the
lockstep support for Israel that is one of the last bipartisan
positions in D.C.)

Her main opponent, Shontel Brown, has been endorsed by Democratic
Majority for Israel and has swiped at Turner over it. Four pro-Israel
Democrats backed Brown
[[link removed]] as
well, and in late June DMFI planned a super PAC ad against Turner.
“They hit people like me, [Jamaal] Bowman in New York, Ilhan
Omar,” Turner said. “It is very disheartening to me because I am a
freedom fighter through and through.” But once again, Turner’s
instincts are more aligned with where the public is going: This spring
and summer have seen the largest pro-Palestine 
[[link removed]]demonstrations
[[link removed]] in
America in recent memory.

More recently, Brown received an endorsement from perhaps the only
figure in politics more polarizing than Turner: Hillary Clinton
[[link removed]].
Within 24 hours of that announcement, Turner had raised over $100,000
[[link removed]] online,
the campaign’s largest single-day fundraising haul, with an average
donation of $22. Meanwhile, senior members of the Congressional Black
Caucus and a PAC made up of corporate lobbyists
[[link removed]] have
been raising money for Brown
[[link removed]] at
high-dollar events.

And on the heels of Clinton’s endorsement, Rep. Jim Clyburn
[[link removed]] (D-SC),
number three in House leadership and the highest-ranking Black member
of Congress, stepped in to endorse Brown. While he denied that his
decision to make the rare endorsement was about Turner, he did
decry “sloganeering” from the left, particularly “defund the
police,” which, he said, is “cutting the throats of the party.”
Turner _also _raised over $100,000 online overnight, after the
Clyburn news.

Turner’s campaign polling
[[link removed]] had
her well out in front of the pack as of early June, a combination of
name recognition, a strong ground game (the office was packed with
volunteers on the chilly May morning I visited), and a national
fundraising base. But she and her staff were taking nothing for
granted. “Because of the whole ‘Anybody but Nina’ thing, there
will be independent expenditures well over a million dollars,” she
told me. Her campaign is looking to raise up to $6 million and
potentially more to push back on attacks; they are more than halfway
there
[[link removed]].
“There are very few people who can actually run for Congress because
most people will never be able to raise that level of money,” she
said. “So how is that in service to our democracy? [We need] public
financing of campaigns, period.”

None of the crises Turner was facing when she last held office have
gone away. They’ve been joined by a whole new crisis: COVID-19, and
its exposure of the cracks in our economic and social systems. But the
pandemic can be, Turner noted, an opportunity to change things for the
better. The free vaccines, for example, could be the beginning of an
experiment in publicly provided health care. “I often say, ‘There
is promise in the problem,’” she said. “We’ve got to use this
crisis to go big.”

Nina Turner makes the rounds at an event held by local religious
groups giving away free gasoline. (Mike Ferguson / The American
Prospect)
MAY 8 WAS COLD AND GRAY in Cleveland. But Turner, wrapped in a black
leather trench coat, bounced from person to person in her platform
Converse high-tops, all energy as she gave masked-up hugs and elbow
bumps to supporters by a van with a spinning marquee of her face on
top. We were at “Gas on God,” an event held by local religious
groups giving away free gasoline, and Turner was making the rounds.

In the gas line, someone handed an iPhone through the window to Turner
so she could greet the person on the other end of a FaceTime call. She
jogged alongside the car as they rolled into place at the pump. She
posed for selfies with members of Christian motorcycle clubs in
matching monogrammed leather, and greeted her supporters holding signs
along the side of the road by name. “Vote for me, I have the courage
to ask for more,” she told a smartphone video.

“Given COVID,” she noted later, “I felt really good to be out
there. We’re in my community and just to feel that love from people
… Some of those people I knew, some of those people I have never
seen before, but the energy was palpable and it was what I needed.”

District 11, and Cleveland in particular, is a microcosm of American
decline. A once-rich city—Standard Oil began there, and iron and
steel production dominated during its heyday—it now ranks as
the poorest big city in America
[[link removed]].
As a Black woman from the Rust Belt, Turner knows firsthand that while
the fallout from deindustrialization hit everyone, it struck the Black
community first. Akshai Singh, a member of Cleveland DSA and local
organizer, noted that it’s still a struggle to turn health care and
education jobs—the closest thing to a replacement for long-gone
heavy industry—into good union jobs that provide a real living.

Activists in the area who spoke with me independently of the Turner
campaign described a stagnant city political machine and a police
force that continues to brutalize
[[link removed]] people.
Cleveland was where a police officer shot Tamir Rice, and where
battles continue over a federal consent decree
[[link removed]] instituted
in 2015 over the police department’s “pattern or practice of using
excessive force
[[link removed]].”

Chrissy Stonebraker-Martínez, an organizer with the InterReligious
Task Force for Human Rights on Central America and Colombia, noted
that despite Cleveland’s long history of left-wing organizing,
activists are often struggling just to achieve the basics. “We spent
the entire year post-uprising fighting for public comment at city
council meetings because we don’t even have public comment.”

Aisia Jones
[[link removed]],
a Black Lives Matter organizer who recently announced her run for
Cleveland City Council, pointed to the need for emergency services
that don’t immediately route to police. “Cleveland is poor.
Period,” Jones said. “How can we make a better atmosphere for us?
That has to do with better public safety and public health, better
city services, more opportunities for recreation, more opportunities
for jobs, youth programming, senior programming.” Revitalization
without gentrification, without displacement of the people who’ve
stayed in Cleveland, she said, has to be the goal.

Jones is enthusiastic about Turner’s campaign, and about potentially
working with her. “She’s more real than I thought. She was just
like, ‘I don’t have all the answers, but you tell me what I can do
for you. You tell me what we can work on together.’”
Stonebraker-Martínez was more hesitant, but noted that Turner “has
gone out on a limb for progressive policies at risk to herself, at
risk to her career.” Many elected officials, they noted, tend to be
more progressive domestically than they are on international
issues—they pointed to the ongoing protests in Colombia, and the
United States’ funding of security forces 
[[link removed]]there.
“Those are the things that I’m concerned about with Nina, but
I’m also grateful,” they said, “that if she is elected, we can
go into her office and talk about these things. Right now, we can’t
even do that.”

In another part of Cleveland, Turner sat down with local elected
officials who’d endorsed her at Bob-N-Sheri’s Fortyniner, an
old-school diner with Rock-Ola jukeboxes at the counter. (Its owners
are supporters.) The breakfast included the mayors of Newburgh Heights
and University Heights, two Cleveland suburbs, as well as two state
representatives and a member of Newburgh Heights’ council. The
meeting was part informal catch-up session, part strategy discussion,
over eggs and grits.

“How do we change the system so it feels like a system for all of
us?” asked Juanita O. Brent, who represents Ohio House District 12.
“People are scared that the floor is going to fall out.” Stephanie
Howse, who represents the neighboring District 11, agreed: “There
was a pandemic before the pandemic.” And things, they all noted,
were about to get worse for those on the wrong side of the unequal
recovery. Republican governors began cutting unemployment benefits in
June, and the CDC’s eviction moratorium expires at the end of July.
While Democrats failed to act, Turner explained, their opponents keep
people in “struggle mode,” where they can’t think beyond
day-to-day needs.

“People deserve to enjoy their lives,” she concluded. “The whole
attitude of the power class is that poor people, working people
don’t deserve to enjoy their lives.”

IF NINA TURNER HEADS TO CONGRESS in the fall, she’ll be doing so
with a lot of pressure to make things happen, in a city and an
institution where so often nothing happens. She’s very aware of the
sense of urgency, saying, “When Democrats win, peoples’ lives
should change.” Yet she’d be one member in a body of 435 where
your voice is often determined by your seniority.

Turner has a laundry list of issues she wants to work on: police
reform, jobs and higher wages, Medicare for All, public education
after a pandemic. She pointed to a recent report
[[link removed]] that
found that residents in two Cleveland-area census tracts just two
miles apart had a stunning 23-year difference in life expectancy.

She’s also thinking about that looming housing crisis. “I want to
marry the Green New Deal with housing,” she said, suggesting money
allocated under that framework could be used to restore the abandoned
homes that dot the city in an energy-efficient manner, and then help
local people to buy them. “The Green New Deal means putting people
back to work in a way that’s viable for them and their family,
making the communities that they live in beautiful.” And as part of
that project, she said, it’s important to make sure people are paid
well enough to have free time. “To me,” she said, “quality of
life means I get to smell the roses from time to time and that there
are some roses that I can smell.”

These are big ideas and there certainly isn’t a majority in Congress
supporting them yet. But Turner’s time at Our Revolution has given
her some experience working with grassroots organizers to press
elected officials to act. Those relationships can help when it comes
to internal party fights, she noted, pushing Democrats like Joe
Manchin and Kyrsten Sinema who have stonewalled voting rights changes
or minimum-wage increases. “There’s something to be said about
stepping into their turf and starting to organize those people because
people are suffering in their state, too.”

She spoke of “awakening sleeping giants,” the way that Ohioans
came together to defeat Senate Bill 5, the measure that stripped
collective-bargaining rights away from public-sector workers in 2011.
To overturn that measure, she said, it took unions and activists, but
they also had to get the message across to non-union workers that the
next time the legislature overstepped, it could come for them. “We
have to try to get that back, that sense that no matter what happens
in this state, in my district, in the state, in this nation, in some
way we are all interconnected,” she said. “If my air is dirty, so
is yours. If my water is dirty, so is yours. If your daughter or son
doesn’t have a job and that impacts your household, it impacts
mine.”

That’s where Turner’s style, while abrasive to mainstream
Democrats, holds a lesson for them. Ultimately, she wants to invite
regular people to join her in fighting for progressive ideas. For
years, Democrats have had trouble defining themselves to the broader
electorate. Turner has mined the activist movement space and found a
coherent message that resonates with working-class people in a
bellwether state. Beyond the Clinton-Sanders wars, that’s something
all sides could take away.

Republicans, Turner noted, “don’t play” when they have power,
and Democrats should take that lesson from them if none other. That
sense of urgency is too often lacking in the party. “When are we
going to learn? Republicans plan for the long term,” she said.
“What can we do right now before the next election cycle and get it
done and go big? Because power is fleeting. You’ve got to use it
while you’ve got it.”

_[Sarah Jaffe is the author of ‘Necessary Trouble: Americans in
Revolt
[[link removed]]’
and ‘Work Won’t Love You Back: How Devotion to Our Jobs Leaves Us
Exploited, Exhausted, and Alone
[[link removed]].’]_

_READ THE ORIGINAL ARTICLE AT PROSPECT.ORG
[[link removed]].
[[link removed]] _

_Used with the permission. © The American Prospect
[[link removed]], Prospect.org [[link removed]], 2021.
All rights reserved. _

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