theatlantic--2020-10-16--Why the Alt-Right’s Most Famous Woman Disappeared

McInnes watched stonily as Southern joined the men .
“ Are you ever gon na have kids , give birth , are you going to be a mother ?
” he asked her .
“ Then I ’ ll give them my seat.
” The men laughed , and Southern , submitting to the last-minute ministrations of a makeup artist , laughed along—just one of the guys , with long , stick-straight blond hair and an off-the-shoulder , floral-print dress .
McInnes wasn ’ t quite finished yet .
“ If you ’ re not making humans , then fucking @ @ @ @ @ @ @ who was joining him to talk about her documentary Farmlands , which focuses on the alleged persecution of white farmers in South Africa , gasped in faux horror .
Southern ’ s reporting for Farmlands had rippled through right-wing media—Trump would order Secretary of State Mike Pompeo to “ closely study ” the issue—and McInnes , now finished with his commentary on gender roles , had Southern discuss her revisionist history .
In the 19th century , the Zulu people took the land that is now South Africa from another ethnic group , @ @ @ @ @ @ @ just as responsible for apartheid as whites .
When McInnes brought the conversation closer to home , noting that white “ self-hatred ” is so rampant that he can ’ t even find South African wine at his local bar , Southern nodded .
“ The word racist just means nothing to me anymore , ” she said .
“ It ’ s been so overused , I just have no respect for the term.
” Southern finished on set and ordered an Uber to the airport for her flight home to Toronto @ @ @ @ @ @ @ phone rang .
It was McInnes .
Southern listened to him closely for a few seconds .
“ We shouldn ’ t be talking about this at all , ” she said , laughing uncomfortably .
Then her face tightened .
“ See , the thing is , because my moral compass tells me you have a wife and kids , it ’ s not even in my realm of consideration.
” McInnes , according to Southern , had just reiterated an offer he ’ d made the night before , when she @ @ @ @ @ @ @ a group of other far-right friends : “ You know you want to fuck me ; I ’ m your childhood hero.
” With a grimace , Southern hustled him off the phone .
She was speechless for a moment .
“ Send help , ” she said feebly .
“ Help.
” By the time Southern went on McInnes ’ s show , I had been following her for nearly a year .
I was making a documentary for The Atlantic about the white-nationalist movement , called White Noise .
I ’ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ Southern made to stay within a movement whose hatreds are prolific .
( Southern denies being a white nationalist . )
And I ’ d already become her confidant of sorts , too—I kept feeling compelled to remind her that I was a reporter .
“ Hey Daniel , in your honest opinion am I a little crazy ?
” she texted me once .
“ Do you think I ’ m irredeemable and can ’ t go back to a normal life ?
” Read : Four years embedded with the alt-right @ @ @ @ @ @ @ It wasn ’ t the first time she ’ d expressed disenchantment with the alt-right , or at least some parts of it .
But it was always hard to know what Southern was really thinking , or how deeply committed she was to anything at all .
Her misgivings mostly revolved around the harassment she received from other members of her movement .
Signs of empathy for others flickered only intermittently .
“ You have to keep playing the game until you ’ re out of it , keep up the charade @ @ @ @ @ @ @ the McInnes taping .
But it seemed likely that she was trying to play me , as well .
When I first got to know her , Southern was among YouTube ’ s most effective and sophisticated extremists—an alt-right propagandist who masqueraded as a run-of-the-mill influencer .
In one June 2017 post titled “ Ad Friendly Makeup Tutorial , ” she walks viewers through her skin-care routine , as electro-pop plays over cherry-colored graphics .
“ You want to use a beauty blender … and cover up all of your face ’ s @ @ @ @ @ @ @ All right , we ’ re looking gorg.
” As she applies the finishing touch , red lipstick , her hand drifts from her mouth to her right cheek .
“ F … U … C … K , ” she slowly writes .
She switches to the left : “ I … S … L … A … M. ” She tosses back her blond hair and smiles : “ You ’ ve got this cute , ad-friendly makeup look , it ’ s super flirty.
” Her 7,000 commenters were thrilled @ @ @ @ @ @ @ on fire !
” gushed a faceless avatar .
An admirer who went by “ Hubert ” jumped in : “ Trolling level : Elite Grandmaster.
” Southern , I came to learn , was also an adept troll in person .
In another YouTube video viewed nearly 3 million times , she pushes to the front of a crowd of sexual-assault survivors and activists in June 2015 in downtown Vancouver and lifts a Sharpie-painted placard : “ There is no rape culture in the West.
” As the marchers protest , Southern @ @ @ @ @ @ @ and you will see a real rape culture !
” Janice Atkinson , a former far-right British member of the European Parliament—which Southern would be invited to address seven months after her appearance on McInnes ’ s show—told me that the young woman ’ s tools , among them a quick wit and good looks , made her the best spokesperson for the nationalist cause .
“ She can sell it better to my sons than I can sell it , ” Atkinson said .
Richard Spencer , the neofascist writer who coined @ @ @ @ @ @ @ , among other things , parsimony in praising his comrades , was also a fan of Southern ’ s videos .
“ They ’ re touching on that hot stuff , ” he told me once .
From the June 2017 issue : How Richard Spencer became an icon for white supremacists Southern was born in Surrey , British Columbia , one of Canada ’ s most racially and ethnically diverse cities .
In her private Christian elementary school , many of the students were ethnically Chinese , she told me , though @ @ @ @ @ @ @ much attention to race .
Her father , however , began to feel like an outsider in his community , she said .
While Southern called her dad “ the least racist person I know , ” she said he felt frustrated walking into coffee shops to find that his Asian neighbors wouldn ’ t address him in English .
So when Lauren was in middle school , her father moved the family , which included her mother and her older sister , to Langley , one of greater Vancouver ’ s whitest @ @ @ @ @ @ @ middle-class upbringing .
One of her Bible-study friends , Kenzo Nishidate , who is half Japanese , described her as both nerdy and popular .
She ’ d go to weekend house parties with the cool girls from volleyball , then show up at school on Monday in a Marvel graphic T-shirt , excited about the latest League of Legends update .
Southern never cared much about her education .
She spent much of her free time reading the fantasy novels of J. R. R. Tolkien and Robert Jordan .
“ My grades @ @ @ @ @ @ @ “ I was always more interested in whatever book that I had picked up from the library than the one I was assigned in class.
” She says she was diagnosed with ADHD , but her parents didn ’ t want her to go on medication .
She planned to join the military after high school .
But then , as she described it , she found a fight worth waging , right at home .
One day in her social-justice class , the teacher asked everyone to separate by race and gender @ @ @ @ @ @ @ on one side , Black and brown on the other ; boys on one side , girls on the other .
The teacher turned to the female students of color : “ You ’ re oppressed.
” She pointed to the white kids—including Southern—and said two words that changed the course of her life : “ You ’ re privileged.
” ( Her teacher denies that this ever occurred . )
Southern told me she was incensed .
Her paternal grandfather had immigrated to Canada from Scandinavia with little money or knowledge of @ @ @ @ @ @ @ orphan .
Sure , her parents had raised her in one of Vancouver ’ s wealthiest suburbs , but they had earned it through “ hard work ” and “ assimilation.
” Plus , she was surrounded by “ rich Asian kids , ” who she believed enjoyed far more privilege than white girls like her .
Southern felt scapegoated when the class discussed topics like slavery or the ethnic cleansing of indigenous Canadians .
Around the same time , her father turned her on to right-wing radio on their morning drives to @ @ @ @ @ @ @ jock Michael Savage say things like Barack Obama was “ the most divisive , hateful president in American history .
He has isolated and marginalized the white male like never before.
” Southern began to read more widely , devouring books by Ann Coulter and Ayn Rand .
At night , she watched McInnes on her favorite late-night show , Fox ’ s Red Eye , where he expressed particular animus toward those who say they are victims of sexual harassment .
“ If your boss grabs your ass , and it doesn @ @ @ @ @ @ @ ’ t like it , quit , ” he asserted on one panel , which featured another guest , future National Security Adviser John Bolton .
Southern started to challenge her teachers about feminism , immigration , and Islam .
She gave an anti-global-warming presentation .
For a class assignment , Southern and a Jewish friend dressed up as Hitler and Mussolini , respectively , and afterward they went over to his house in full dictator regalia .
“ Good times !
” she recalled , laughing about this incident with another childhood @ @ @ @ @ @ @ being a contrarian .
She didn ’ t necessarily believe the things she said or did , she told me , but the power of making her teachers squirm was intoxicating .
Her rise to social-media stardom was meteoric .
Trump ’ s nativist presidential campaign coincided with the explosive expansion of the far-right media ecosystem .
The premier outlet at the time , Breitbart News , was run by the future White House chief strategist Steve Bannon , and the Canadian media executive Ezra Levant had set out to create an equivalent @ @ @ @ @ @ @ it Rebel Media and asked Southern to audition after meeting the young firebrand at an energy conference where she peppered the speakers with questions .
Southern , struggling at college while working as a cocktail waitress at a casino , seized the opportunity .
She raced back to her high school , paid a student from A/V class a few hundred dollars , and worked with him to record her first viral hit : “ Why I Am Not a Feminist.
” Sporting the red lipstick and fake lashes that became her defining @ @ @ @ @ @ @ popular belief , feminism is not , in fact , a synonym for equality.
” To her shock , the four-minute video took off , reaching 1.2 million viewers on YouTube and another 30 million on Facebook .
After a drink , the couple loosened up a bit .
Southern told Hutcheson that she dreamed of graduating from short videos to feature-length films .
Sure , her direct-to-camera videos offered strong arguments and reached a lot of people , she said , but they were starting to feel derivative .
If she could @ @ @ @ @ @ @ Hollywood-level soundtracks , sweeping drone shots , and high-resolution cameras—she thought she could tell more powerful stories .
Hutcheson looked uneasy as his girlfriend continued to talk about her career ambitions .
“ All of us Europeans have the responsibility to reproduce , ” he interjected .
Southern looked down at her plate .
“ That ’ s a very cold way of putting it , ” she responded .
“ Do you want to have a family for the sake of love or just because it ’ s a duty thing ?
@ @ @ @ @ @ @ war is to men , ” her boyfriend replied stolidly .
“ I want to serve my nation.
” Southern ’ s eyes glazed over as Hutcheson kept talking .
Finally , the waitress arrived with the bill .
Hutcheson gestured for Southern to grab it .
“ Okay , cool .
I ’ ll make it a business expense , ” she whispered .
Earlier , she ’ d told me that her boyfriend leaned on her financially .
( Hutcheson did not respond to our request for comment . )
In @ @ @ @ @ @ @ was subdued .
She was feeling burned out , professionally and personally , she told me .
Two months before , I ’ d trailed after her to Moscow , where she ’ d planned to interview oligarchs , Kremlin sycophants , and other far-right influencers for a documentary she hoped would be a corrective to what she saw as America ’ s irrational fear of Russia .
But to her consternation , she found Putin ’ s Russia to be alienating .
The food was unappealing , the taxi drivers invented rates @ @ @ @ @ @ @ on the street had little interest in being interviewed .
And few of them spoke English .
She spent most of her nearly two weeks there in her hotel , drinking lattes and refreshing her Twitter feed .
Back in Toronto , she sounded almost wistful about her past , recalling the days when she and her far-right friends had stayed up all night eating burritos and making videos for Rebel .
“ I discovered it gets much darker and much scarier when you stay in it long enough , ” she said @ @ @ @ @ @ @ .
Her ostensible allies frequently attacked her as a “ tradthot ” —an alt-right term for single women who support “ traditional ” values but don ’ t live them .
( If you look up tradthot in the Urban Dictionary , the first thing you see is a video clip of Southern . )
She seemed to sincerely share her movement ’ s views about the female temperament and women ’ s rightful roles ; at the very least , she was adept at parroting them .
She told me that “ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ ” and that “ it sucks being a girl in a feminist world.
” “ We ’ ve got an ambition problem as women in politics—we ’ ve seen so much and experience so much , will we be able to be a housewife ?
” she said another time .
Still , she felt so besieged by the insults directed at her by the alt-right men that she made a response video called “ Why I ’ m Not Married.
” She was 22 at the time .
While the alt-right ’ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ her place , they simultaneously venerated her as a goddess—although this often collapsed into crude come-ons on social media and in person .
The movement grew , in part , out of the “ manosphere , ” epitomized by Cernovich , a onetime sex blogger .
The headlines on his website ranged from “ What Is Rape ?
” to “ How to Cheat on Your Girlfriend ” to “ When in Doubt , Whip It Out.
” Read : To learn about the alt-right , start with the ‘ manosphere ’ Then @ @ @ @ @ @ @ of verbally and physically abusing his now ex-wife .
“ The only language women understand is violence , ” he told his former spouse , according to their divorce filings .
( Spencer denied the allegations . )
One of Spencer ’ s colleagues , Matthew Heimbach , co-founder of a fascist organization called the Traditionalist Worker Party , squeezed his wife ’ s cheeks until they bled after she confronted him about having an affair , according to a police report .
In 2016 , I ’ d attended a Spencer-led conference @ @ @ @ @ @ @ a speaker described women as “ reptilian ” animals who should be left to hang naked in the public square should they ever have sex with a Muslim man .
We need to “ flush disloyalty from our gene pool , ” he announced to the roughly 200 men and 10 women in attendance .
Southern ’ s attitude about her own sexualization was convoluted and contradictory .
She knew her audience would respond to a cleavage shot .
“ Like you see girls that do a political video , and if they @ @ @ @ @ @ @ they ’ ll get 500,000 extra views .
It ’ s clickbait .
It works , ” she told me .
She didn ’ t do that , she added , but she also rarely appeared on camera without being fully made up .
Still , she would express anxiety , if not fear , about the ugliness and aggression of the men who were drawn to her .
She told me about an email folder labeled “ nutjobs ” where she deposited notes from fans asking for sex .
Her mother had @ @ @ @ @ @ @ ’ s face onto a body being penetrated , she said , and one man messaged her saying he hoped she was “ raped ” to the point of having her “ face destroyed , ” so she could never benefit from her looks again .
In the evening , we decided to set out in search of a restaurant that served French fries with hamburgers or steak—she wasn ’ t a culinary white supremacist like Hutcheson , but she was a picky eater .
She didn ’ t say much as we @ @ @ @ @ @ @ .
Then she began to cry .
A former fan had become a sex-crazed stalker , messaging her numerous times a day and posting personal information about her family and friends on social media .
She was so worried about getting hit on by far-right figures that she refused to attend fund-raising meetings without a chaperone .
Even McInnes had not stopped sending flirtatious messages to her , she said .
She didn ’ t know what to do , or whom to tell .
If her father found out , it would @ @ @ @ @ @ @ .
He was a huge fan of conservative pundits like McInnes .
If everything was so awful , I asked , why had she embarked on this new film ?
She offered the same explanation I ’ d heard many times before : She didn ’ t want Europe to be overtaken by Islam .
I responded with familiar arguments .
Europe ’ s Muslim population , for example , was a mere 5 percent and was expected to increase to only about 11 percent by 2050 .
Even in France , where @ @ @ @ @ @ @ of whites , Muslims don ’ t make up more than 10 percent of the citizenry .
By the time we sat down to dinner , she was calmer and told me she had some exciting news .
She ’ d met someone special .
Catholic .
Tough .
He made her feel safe .
She smiled with what looked like genuine pleasure .
And then , with some hesitation , she told me her new crush wasn ’ t white .
“ Race isn ’ t everything , ” she said , @ @ @ @ @ @ @ face .
“ What matters is happiness , not race.
” The next morning , as we walked the empty chateau grounds , Southern still seemed jittery , and kept tugging at her beige trench coat .
“ We have almost the same symptoms as addicts , ” she declared , apropos of nothing , clutching her phone .
I thought back to an interview I had with her in Russia , where she first mentioned her “ addiction ” to celebrity .
“ You get a little high when you get all @ @ @ @ @ @ @ get all those shares when all these people are talking to you .
It ’ s a crazy sensation and feeling that I never had psychologically prepared for.
” She vowed again that she was going to quit YouTube , as soon as she finished Borderless .
Her new boyfriend gave her a real reason to get out .
Several days later , at an Airbnb closer to Paris , Southern ’ s video team reassembled , including two Brits : Caolan Robertson , the director , and George Llewelyn-John , the cameraman @ @ @ @ @ @ @ me—and had dated for five years .
Soon we were joined by Southern ’ s latest man .
Shirtless and clutching coffee , he conferred with her in whispers , before turning to me : He wanted to remain anonymous .
Southern chimed in to add that I was prohibited from reporting on his specific ethnic identity , trying to manage a detail she ’ d already revealed .
She later clarified over text that she didn ’ t want him used as a prop to accumulate “ not racist ” points .
@ @ @ @ @ @ @ .
With the assistance of Robertson , a marketing man by trade , Southern was making good on the aspirations she ’ d outlined to the grumpy Hutcheson : The DIY aesthetic of YouTube was no more .
Southern had revamped her wardrobe , purchased Netflix-quality documentary gear , and stopped making references to white nationalism on her Instagram account .
Instead , her crew helped her use the platform to release slow-motion videos of her posing in front of the Eiffel Tower , as if in an ad for French Vogue .
@ @ @ @ @ @ @ seemed to be having the desired effect .
She had gotten word that the European Parliament wanted to premiere Borderless once it was complete .
Read : Instagram is the internet ’ s new home for hate The team climbed into a gray van and headed toward Paris ’ s infamous migrant neighborhood , Porte de la Chapelle .
But migrants were thin on the ground .
Southern checked her Facebook in a familiar nervous twitch .
“ ‘ Hi Lauren , you ’ re hot , tell me if I can fuck @ @ @ @ @ @ @ out .
“ Go on , Lauren , give him that blow job , ” Llewelyn-John deadpanned .
After more than an hour of hunting , Southern ordered her driver to stop .
She had spotted a campsite under a highway overpass .
We would all go in together , she said , but her security guard , who had served in the military , stopped her .
To gain genuine access , they should first try to build some kind of rapport with the people living there .
He would do it @ @ @ @ @ @ @ cluster of makeshift dwellings alone , and eventually emerged to beckon us in .
He had lied and told the migrants he was a Chechen asylum seeker who had met some well-intended journalists interested in their stories .
He warned us that the men were hungry , so things might get tense , but it also gave Southern a little leverage .
“ Half the pizza now , half after the interview , ” Llewelyn-John said , only partly joking .
( He and Robertson have since renounced their association with the far @ @ @ @ @ @ @ were used to further Southern ’ s anti-immigrant agenda . )
Read : The women behind the ‘ alt-right ’ We ran across a highway , through some bushes , and settled under the overpass .
The migrants graciously made room for us closer to their fire .
“ Hi , I ’ m Alex , ” Southern introduced herself , using one of her stage names .
She started to pass out chocolate and cigarettes .
“ I want to know your story .
I want to know why you came to @ @ @ @ @ @ @ the men warmed their weathered hands over the flames , they told of fleeing bloodshed and gang violence .
Mostly from Mali and Sierra Leone , they had escaped via a treacherous route across the Mediterranean that has left an estimated 19,000 people dead or missing since 2013 .
When they had finally made it to France , they discovered that they were prohibited from working and could wait nearly a year to have their asylum claims heard .
• The Making of an American Nazi Their chances of ever being admitted to @ @ @ @ @ @ @ In 2015 , Hungary ’ s nationalist prime minister , Viktor Orbán , was the first leader to shut his borders , calling the migrant crisis an “ invasion.
” But in Europe as a whole today , close to two-thirds of asylum applicants are rejected , according to the Eurostat .
Before we left , one of the younger men , hiding beneath a shy grin and layers of dirty overcoats , raised his hand to speak .
Maybe something good could come of telling his story to the world , he @ @ @ @ @ @ @ to Italy , and then into France , which he imagined to be “ El Dorado ” for a French speaker like himself , he told Southern .
“ We didn ’ t come here to steal , ” he emphasized .
It had been six months since he ’ d arrived , and not only couldn ’ t he find work , but the French shunned him , and the police destroyed his temporary encampments , keeping him on the move .
“ I have no hope left , ” he said @ @ @ @ @ @ @ .
Southern walked back to the van contemplatively .
“ There ’ s no denying they had shitty lives , ” she said .
“ I can have cookies with these people and hear their life story .
That doesn ’ t mean we suddenly—just because I feel bad in that moment—we need to destroy all borders and allow everyone to come in here.
” The finished documentary would portray asylum seekers generally as opportunists looking to get rich , and would pluck from this campfire interview quotes that emphasized the migrants ’ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ than the dire circumstances from which they had fled .
That night , coming back from filming , I asked Southern if she was proud of the work she was doing .
A smile broke out on her wind-chapped face .
“ I ’ ve really come a long way , ” she said .
In January 2019 , Southern screened excerpts of Borderless at the European Parliament in Brussels , and was feted like a visiting head of state .
Junior staffers rushed to take pictures with her .
Right-wing parliamentarians extended @ @ @ @ @ @ @ to feature Southern on their social-media accounts .
With nearly a quarter of the European Parliament now controlled by the far right , and much of its center pandering to that group ’ s anti-immigrant base , Southern faced no opposition inside the hall .
“ Lauren is beautiful , ” David Coburn , a Scottish politician who was then a member of the Parliament , told me twice .
“ [ She ] makes me feel that the future is maybe in safe hands.
” She told me about her life in @ @ @ @ @ @ @ said .
She had re-enrolled at the University of the Fraser Valley to study philosophy .
She was particularly taken by Saint Augustine and his treatise The City of God , which criticizes a society consumed by vanity .
In the evening , she played in a community volleyball league .
Her new friends had no idea about her past , and Southern , it appeared , didn ’ t dwell on it much herself .
Clutching a book on Christian spirituality , Thirsty for God , Southern was eager to tell me @ @ @ @ @ @ @ ’ s Catholic faith .
Most nights were spent cooking with “ hubby ” and watching Netflix .
“ I couldn ’ t be happier , ” she said .
I had seen Lauren Southern challenge sexual-assault survivors , turn back refugee boats , exploit desperate migrants for political gain , and rake in considerable cash—all to the benefit of an insurgent racist right .
The day after I landed in Belgium to see her give her speech at the European Parliament , I ’ d learned that my grandmother , a Holocaust @ @ @ @ @ @ @ family gathered in Israel to lay Shulamit Lombroso to rest , I ’ d watched the parliamentarians applaud their brightest young star .
Now Southern was acting like none of this had ever happened .
Having thrown her bombs , she had , indeed , simply gone back to a normal life .
The 2010s saw dozens of lethal terror attacks by white nationalists , including Anders Breivik ’ s murder of 77 of his fellow Norwegians to protest Europe ’ s growing diversity , and the American extremist Dylann Roof ’ s @ @ @ @ @ @ @ of igniting a race war .
Between the time Southern entered politics and the time she left , far-right extremists had murdered 11 Jews at a synagogue in Pittsburgh , 51 Muslims at a mosque in New Zealand , and 22 people at a Walmart in El Paso , Texas ( in an effort to target Mexicans ) .
More than a hundred smaller attacks had occurred worldwide .
Many of the killers were radicalized on YouTube , and some echoed the kind of anti-immigrant rhetoric Southern liked to use .
I asked @ @ @ @ @ @ @ this surge in hate .
She responded briskly : “ If anything I ’ ve said has contributed to that , it was because someone misinterpreted me.
” What about her ridiculing of rape culture ?
“ I still stand by the points today.
” And what about her partner , who is part Asian—what does he think of her politics ?
Southern started to speak , then stopped , before recasting my question : “ My arguments about family and focusing on community , I believe it ’ s true .
It @ @ @ @ @ @ @ hard to personally follow something that is , quite frankly , an ideal.
” She kept telling me she had grown more “ compassionate , ” but whenever I asked her pointedly if she regretted her past work , I got obfuscation and tactical apologies .
“ I regret letting myself get as cold as I did ” is the most she would offer during our last in-person interview .
This past summer , Southern moved with her husband and her son to Australia , where she has returned to activism .
She @ @ @ @ @ @ @ Crossfire , which she promises will bring “ nuance ” to political discourse .
It is centered on “ policing , brutality , [ and ] race , ” according to the trailer , and it will “ expose the reality for those caught in the crossfire of lawless protest and crime.
” She also frequently appears as a commentator on the country ’ s Sky News channel , inveighing against COVID-19 restrictions and “ cancel culture.
” There was never going to be a reckoning .
No accountability , only retreat .
@ @ @ @ @ @ @ one young person with a knack for social media can do .


theatlantic--2020-10-19--The Woman With the Pink Tennis Shoes Is Walking a Fine Line

Back in the halcyon days of February , when healing America seemed like a figure of speech and indoor gatherings of more than two maskless people weren ’ t considered a biohazard , Wendy Davis addressed a 75-person crowd in the clubhouse of a gated community outside San Antonio .
It was the third event in as many days for Davis , who was two weeks away from winning the Democratic primary to represent Texas ’ s Twenty-First Congressional District , a curiously drawn slice of the state that includes downtown Austin , the suburban sprawl of San Antonio , @ @ @ @ @ @ @ .
Davis delivered her standard stump speech—a tight , policy-driven monologue that features the story of how she , a teen mom living in a trailer park , managed to make it to Harvard Law School , thanks to hard work , Pell Grants , and a Planned Parenthood around the corner—before fanning out to a case for stitching up the holes in today ’ s social safety net .
( Davis ’ s granddaughters don ’ t have the same opportunities she did , she said ; we owe it to them @ @ @ @ @ @ @ a woman in her late 50s with a sensible brown bob and a faint twang pulled the candidate aside .
“ I got an abortion , and I tell my Sunday-school class about it , ” the woman began , her voice cracking .
“ I just don ’ t believe in backing down .
You just don ’ t back down.
” Davis nodded sympathetically—she gets this a lot .
In 2013 , Davis went from Texas state senator to feminist folk hero when she filibustered a bill to effectively close all @ @ @ @ @ @ @ .
Lean In feminism was sweeping the nation , and Sheryl Sandberg couldn ’ t have asked for a better standard-bearer for her gospel of sharp-elbowed female empowerment .
To avoid giving her ( male ) Republican opponents even the flimsiest reason to disqualify her , Davis followed Senate rules to the point of absurdity—refraining from sitting , eating , drinking , or using the bathroom ( there was a catheter … ) for 11 straight hours .
The gladiatorial aspect of it all , plus the fact that Davis had done it @ @ @ @ @ @ @ were an unapologetically girly shade of pink , captured the attention of tens of thousands on a livestream , among them President Barack Obama .
When details of her biography surfaced the next day , Davis ’ s cult status grew .
Women sent macramé uteruses to her office to express their gratitude .
She was featured in the September issue of Vogue .
Though her effort to kill the bill ultimately failed , she traveled throughout Texas on a Planned Parenthood bus , disembarking to choruses of young women chanting : “ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ A few months later , when she announced that she was running for governor , Davis wasn ’ t expected to win , but that someone with her buzz was even seeking the office gave Democrats new hope for loosening the decades-long red chokehold on the state .
Her campaign raised $ 40 million .
Then what started as an exciting underdog effort became something like a disaster , paved with muddled messaging , accusations that she ’ d embellished her origin story ( she didn ’ t live in the trailer for @ @ @ @ @ @ @ ’ s release of a tasteless attack ad suggesting that her opponent , Greg Abbott , who uses a wheelchair , was a hypocrite for blocking disability-discrimination lawsuits as state attorney general .
Davis suffered an embarrassing 20-point loss—the widest margin for a governor ’ s race the state had seen in almost two decades—and by the end of her campaign , her net favorability rating had cratered to negative 4 .
Apparently , most Texas voters didn ’ t like her .
The arc of any good political story , of course @ @ @ @ @ @ @ announced that she was running for U.S. Congress in July 2019 , Texas 21 wasn ’ t especially high on anyone ’ s list of seats expected to flip—the district has been represented by a Republican since the 1970s .
But she had a path to victory , albeit a narrow one .
In recent years , the Twenty-First has experienced an explosion in population growth , with recent transplants skewing young , educated , and suburban—a demographic that famously continues to drift to the left .
It was an advantage compounded by @ @ @ @ @ @ @ Roy , the former chief of staff to Senator Ted Cruz , is such a staunch far-right ideologue that he once blocked the passage of a disaster-relief bill that would have benefited Texas because it didn ’ t contain sufficient funds for building President Donald Trump ’ s border wall .
In 2018 , Roy topped the Democratic businessman running against him by only 2.6 percentage points .
Then came a national crisis that upended assumptions about likely winners and losers .
In March 2020 , almost every aspect of life became a @ @ @ @ @ @ @ In the ensuing five months , Davis held just a single in-person campaign event ( outdoors , in a mask ) , while Roy—who likened stay-at-home orders to laws in Nazi Germany—spoke with constituents in crowded restaurants and attended a large , lavish outdoor GOP fundraising gala that was investigated by the Travis County fire marshal for violating the governor ’ s COVID-19 protocols .
The more daylight that shined between the candidates ’ approach to the pandemic , the more the odds seemed to tilt in Davis ’ s favor .
( @ @ @ @ @ @ @ on the national stage didn ’ t hurt . )
In July , following a surge of coronavirus cases in Texas , the nonpartisan Cook Political Report bumped up Davis ’ s chances of winning , changing the Twenty-First ’ s ranking from “ Lean R ” to “ Toss-Up.
” And in early September , after Obama endorsed Davis , her campaign disclosed the results of a poll it had conducted that showed the two candidates in a virtual tie .
During an Instagram Live event with the actor Connie Britton , @ @ @ @ @ @ @ of winning , letting out a “ Don ’ t make a liar out of me !
” She was kidding , but there was also sincere trepidation in her voice .
Davis , perhaps more than anyone , knows the dangers of getting swept up in the hype , and the heartbreak of assuming that this will be the year Texas turns blue .
Given that Davis staged what was essentially an 11-hour performance piece on the floor of the state Senate in 2013 , you might expect her to be theatrical @ @ @ @ @ @ @ master of dramatic pacing .
You would be wrong .
The 57-year-old lawyer has a regal mien that recalls a not-evil Claire Underwood ( incidentally , a character who , like Davis , is a native Texan who lost her accent along the way ) .
Davis ’ s diction is ivory tower and her framing cerebral , even in the personal story she tells of discovering Planned Parenthood at 19 , after giving birth to her first child , Amber : “ They made it possible for me to take control of @ @ @ @ @ @ @ it possible for me to take control of my economic opportunity .
So I understand very deeply why that matters so much.
” Two days before the stop in San Antonio in February , Davis attended an event at the Kerr County Democratic Party headquarters , in Kerrville .
Kerrville is among the reddest parts of the district , so much so that six months later , Chip Roy would share a maskless fist bump with the town ’ s former mayor , later shrugging off his behavior to a reporter for the @ @ @ @ @ @ @ ” The mostly white Boomers who came out for Davis were the area ’ s committed Democratic minority—one man wore a MAGA-style hat that said Make Orwell Fiction Again .
Most of their questions were about Davis ’ s efforts to expand the electorate—this group loved her , but they couldn ’ t see her convincing many more people from their demographic to vote for her .
( Do you speak Spanish ?
one woman asked the candidate .
Working on it , she replied . )
Toward the end , a guy @ @ @ @ @ @ @ than nearly everyone else , with a smartwatch , a hipster haircut , and skinny jeans , raised his hand : Where did Davis stand on the Green New Deal ?
“ I ’ m for drafting the most aggressive bill ” —Davis paused— “ that will pass in the Senate.
” The question touched a nerve .
Her then–campaign manager later told me that she thought the guy might have been a plant from a “ far left ” interest group .
The campaign was almost certainly wary of a third-party candidate @ @ @ @ @ @ @ tight races elsewhere .
Indeed , when a Green Party candidate threw his hat in the ring in April , Davis ’ s campaign sued to keep him off the ballot because he hadn ’ t paid the required filing fees .
( She ultimately lost . )
Davis is not at all shy about being a moderate .
In fact , she wants to lay claim to that designation , though she prefers the term mainstream .
While health care is the centerpiece of her campaign—and she will say approximately a billion @ @ @ @ @ @ @ , on the trail , presumably in her sleep , that Texas has the highest rate of uninsured people in the country—her solution is not Medicare for All .
Rather , she prefers a competitive public option and expanding Medicare and Medicaid .
“ Making sure every person in America has health care is a bold idea , ” she told me in February.. “ It doesn ’ t mean we ’ re small thinkers if we don ’ t think Medicare for All tomorrow is the correct path , right ?
” @ @ @ @ @ @ @ side .
The first political office she held was as a member of the Fort Worth city council , which didn ’ t have party affiliations .
During her time as a council member and later as a state senator , she championed a variety of causes , including commercial development in Fort Worth , protections against predatory lending , and regulation—rather than a ban—on the nascent and booming fracking industry .
( Davis even voted in several GOP primaries in the 1990s and , according to public records , donated to George @ @ @ @ @ @ @ first presidential campaign . )
The problem is , as much as Davis and her campaign operatives believe mainstream is the way to go in a district that is purplish at best , and in a race where her opponent has given her the Trumpian nickname “ Extreme Wendy , ” the progressive faction of her party has more energy and influence than it has had in decades .
She alienates the skinny-jeans set at her peril .
It ’ s a strange spot for Davis to be in .
Once described by @ @ @ @ @ @ @ someone who “ makes people believe anything was possible , ” Davis now can ’ t take for granted the support of her party ’ s left flank .
She ’ s been lapped by the new generation of progressive stars , with their full-throated denunciations of capitalism and inequality , of structural racism and sexism .
Davis ’ s challenge is one faced by Democrats across the country hoping to capture traditionally Republican seats : how to keep progressives happy enough to pull the lever and woo members of the opposite party @ @ @ @ @ @ @ her poor showing against Greg Abbott on being overly “ message-managed.
” If , for instance , she had attempted to talk about the importance of gun control—something she has done often in her current race— “ my team would have told me I lost my freaking mind , ” Davis told me , beginning to sound almost wistful.
“ For me , that race felt so big and so hard .
I didn ’ t trust myself as much as I had in other races.
” Bob Stein , a political-science professor @ @ @ @ @ @ @ in his assessment .
“ Let ’ s just get honest here .
She wasn ’ t what I ’ d call a great candidate , ” he told me .
He thinks Davis miscalculated how much identity politics would motivate female voters , especially on the abortion issue .
“ She felt there were white Republican women who were offended that white males wanted to tell them what to do with their reproductive rights , and there weren ’ t. ” Davis has been much more circumspect about the issue this time @ @ @ @ @ @ @ pandemic , when the state halted abortions on the grounds that they were a “ non-essential ” medical procedure , Davis tweeted about the topic only a handful of times , using relatively measured language .
“ This makes absolutely zero sense and makes women more vulnerable , not less so , ” she said in one tweet .
In late September , when Senator Bernie Sanders hosted a virtual town hall , cheekily titled “ As Goes Texas , So Goes America , ” with various Texas Democrats—including Julie Oliver , running @ @ @ @ @ @ @ , and José Garza , vying for district attorney in Travis County , which overlaps with the Twenty-First—Davis was conspicuously absent .
Less polarizing special guests like Julián Castro and Beto O ’ Rourke weren ’ t enough of a counterbalance , it seemed , for Davis to risk being perceived as even socialist-curious .
( When I asked her about her decision not to participate , Davis claimed ignorance .
“ I certainly don ’ t remember making a decision not to attend it , ” she said .
“ I may @ @ @ @ @ @ @ and that ’ s probably the case.
” ) On the drive back to Austin from Kerrville in the winter , along a stretch of Highway 290 dotted with peach stands and personal-injury lawyers ’ billboards , Davis explained where she sees herself in the landscape of Democratic talent .
“ It would not be AOC .
It would be Amy Klobuchar , ” she said decisively .
“ It would be the person who goes in , puts her head down , and just works with people quietly and gets it done @ @ @ @ @ @ @ s not to take away from AOC , because I know that she ’ s working hard on the things that really matter to her , but that ’ s just not me.
” The irony is , despite Davis ’ s efforts to distance herself from the younger progressives , they ’ ve helped provoke changes in attitude that are making her life easier , especially with regard to feminism .
For one thing , there is much more recognition now that concepts such as “ likability ” are polluted by gender @ @ @ @ @ @ @ , was underwater by the end of the governor ’ s race .
A major cause of Texans ’ disenchantment with Davis were media reports that she had fudged parts of her biography : She only lived in the trailer for a few months , which critics deemed not long enough to mention at all .
Most damning , though , was the revelation that her then-husband had paid her law-school tuition and cared for their two children in Fort Worth while she was studying at Harvard—prompting Ann Coulter to call Davis a @ @ @ @ @ @ @ ” As proof that beliefs have evolved , look no further than what happened in March 2019 , when Davis ’ s fellow Texan , Beto O ’ Rourke , made a passing reference while he was running for president to his wife assuming most of the parenting duties .
That he seemed to take this arrangement for granted , without so much as an I ’ m so lucky , incited a barrage of accusations of male privilege .
( He later apologized . )
Beto-for-President seems like ancient history .
So @ @ @ @ @ @ @ and a half , and those events are still reverberating in the contest between Davis and Roy .
Even as Trump ’ s poll numbers have fallen in Texas , Roy has not stopped praising the president ’ s handling of the outbreak or trafficking in conspiracy theories , such as speculation that Democrats will experience a “ magic awakening ” after the election and their fears about the coronavirus will vanish .
( Roy did complain , however , that his comments about Nazi Germany were taken out of context , explaining @ @ @ @ @ @ @ specific policy in Maine related to travel restrictions . )
Meanwhile , Davis ’ s campaign has pronounced Roy the “ nation ’ s top coronavirus skeptic ” and a “ danger to Texas families.
” “ I ’ m observing my opponent going on CNN and telling the interviewer that everything ’ s just fine in Texas on the day that we actually had the highest number of deaths in our state that we ’ d had to that point , ” Davis told me when we spoke in August .
The @ @ @ @ @ @ @ to police brutality against Black people isn ’ t quite as sharp .
After George Floyd ’ s killing in May , Davis slammed the president ’ s response , tweeting , “ True leaders mourn with the families who have lost loved ones , ” and she held a virtual town hall on the topic of racial justice and trans rights on June 11 .
But the next month , after a protester was fatally shot in downtown Austin and the national call for defunding the police reached a peak , she @ @ @ @ @ @ @ tweeting : “ The incident last night in Austin at the Black Lives Matter protest was horrific .
As we await more info , let us reaffirm that the right to peaceful protest is sacred in America.
” No doubt , Davis , who supports reforms such as banning chokeholds but has stopped short of anything more radical , is aware of just how badly defunding the police plays with the suburban voters she ’ s trying to get .
This is not lost on Roy , either .
He took a staunch @ @ @ @ @ @ @ protesters and police that rocked Austin and San Antonio over the summer .
And in September , after NBA players boycotted a handful of games to protest police brutality in Kenosha , Wisconsin , he appeared on the floor of the House with a framed jersey emblazoned with a 43 : the number of on-duty law-enforcement officers killed so far this year , he said .
“ Where is the NBA ” on this issue ?
Roy demanded .
One of Davis ’ s favorite pieces of political trivia is about how Ann @ @ @ @ @ @ @ the patron saint of female politicians in Texas , won her 1990 bid for governor .
The prevailing lore is that Richards ’ s opponent , Clayton Williams , immolated a winning campaign with a single bizarre joke about rape ( comparing it to bad weather , he said , “ If it ’ s inevitable , just relax and enjoy it ” ) .
“ But it wasn ’ t the rape joke that did it , ” Davis told me , offering a slightly more nuanced account .
Williams actually blew @ @ @ @ @ @ @ the election , when Richards extended her hand to him , and he refused to shake it .
“ Had that happened on any other day––two days prior , or three days later––she probably wouldn ’ t have won , ” Davis said excitedly .
“ It was perfect timing.
” It ’ s a lesson about just how swiftly circumstances can change in a campaign .
It ’ s also about how , if you ’ re patient as a candidate , you just might get an opening—a once-in-a-century pandemic , say—to @ @ @ @ @ @ @ all about .

Back in the halcyon days of February, when healing America seemed like a figure of speech and indoor gatherings of more than two maskless people weren’t considered a biohazard, Wendy Davis addressed a 75-person crowd in the clubhouse of a gated community outside San Antonio. It was the third event in as many days for Davis, who was two weeks away from winning the Democratic primary to represent Texas’s Twenty-First Congressional District, a curiously drawn slice of the state that includes downtown Austin, the suburban sprawl of San Antonio, and a rural stretch of Hill Country. Davis delivered her standard stump speech—a tight, policy-driven monologue that features the story of how she, a teen mom living in a trailer park, managed to make it to Harvard Law School, thanks to hard work, Pell Grants, and a Planned Parenthood around the corner—before fanning out to a case for stitching up the holes in today’s social safety net. (Davis’s granddaughters don’t have the same opportunities she did, she said; we owe it to them to change that.) Afterward, a woman in her late 50s with a sensible brown bob and a faint twang pulled the candidate aside. “I got an abortion, and I tell my Sunday-school class about it,” the woman began, her voice cracking. “I just don’t believe in backing down. You just don’t back down.”
Davis nodded sympathetically—she gets this a lot. In 2013, Davis went from Texas state senator to feminist folk hero when she filibustered a bill to effectively close all but five abortion clinics in the state. Lean In feminism was sweeping the nation, and Sheryl Sandberg couldn’t have asked for a better standard-bearer for her gospel of sharp-elbowed female empowerment. To avoid giving her (male) Republican opponents even the flimsiest reason to disqualify her, Davis followed Senate rules to the point of absurdity—refraining from sitting, eating, drinking, or using the bathroom (there was a catheter …) for 11 straight hours. The gladiatorial aspect of it all, plus the fact that Davis had done it in a pair of Mizuno sneakers that were an unapologetically girly shade of pink, captured the attention of tens of thousands on a livestream, among them President Barack Obama. When details of her biography surfaced the next day, Davis’s cult status grew. Women sent macramé uteruses to her office to express their gratitude. She was featured in the September issue of Vogue. Though her effort to kill the bill ultimately failed, she traveled throughout Texas on a Planned Parenthood bus, disembarking to choruses of young women chanting: “Wendy! Wendy! Wendy!”
A few months later, when she announced that she was running for governor, Davis wasn’t expected to win, but that someone with her buzz was even seeking the office gave Democrats new hope for loosening the decades-long red chokehold on the state. Her campaign raised $40 million. Then what started as an exciting underdog effort became something like a disaster, paved with muddled messaging, accusations that she’d embellished her origin story (she didn’t live in the trailer for that long), and her campaign’s release of a tasteless attack ad suggesting that her opponent, Greg Abbott, who uses a wheelchair, was a hypocrite for blocking disability-discrimination lawsuits as state attorney general. Davis suffered an embarrassing 20-point loss—the widest margin for a governor’s race the state had seen in almost two decades—and by the end of her campaign, her net favorability rating had cratered to negative 4. Apparently, most Texas voters didn’t like her.
Wendy Davis’s books, gavel, Senate name plate, and a painting of her famous shoes
The arc of any good political story, of course, includes a comeback. When Davis announced that she was running for U.S. Congress in July 2019, Texas 21 wasn’t especially high on anyone’s list of seats expected to flip—the district has been represented by a Republican since the 1970s. But she had a path to victory, albeit a narrow one. In recent years, the Twenty-First has experienced an explosion in population growth, with recent transplants skewing young, educated, and suburban—a demographic that famously continues to drift to the left. It was an advantage compounded by the fact that the incumbent, Chip Roy, the former chief of staff to Senator Ted Cruz, is such a staunch far-right ideologue that he once blocked the passage of a disaster-relief bill that would have benefited Texas because it didn’t contain sufficient funds for building President Donald Trump’s border wall. In 2018, Roy topped the Democratic businessman running against him by only 2.6 percentage points.
Then came a national crisis that upended assumptions about likely winners and losers. In March 2020, almost every aspect of life became a campaign issue, even campaigning itself. In the ensuing five months, Davis held just a single in-person campaign event (outdoors, in a mask), while Roy—who likened stay-at-home orders to laws in Nazi Germany—spoke with constituents in crowded restaurants and attended a large, lavish outdoor GOP fundraising gala that was investigated by the Travis County fire marshal for violating the governor’s COVID-19 protocols. The more daylight that shined between the candidates’ approach to the pandemic, the more the odds seemed to tilt in Davis’s favor. (That the same dynamic was playing out on the national stage didn’t hurt.) In July, following a surge of coronavirus cases in Texas, the nonpartisan Cook Political Report bumped up Davis’s chances of winning, changing the Twenty-First’s ranking from “Lean R” to “Toss-Up.” And in early September, after Obama endorsed Davis, her campaign disclosed the results of a poll it had conducted that showed the two candidates in a virtual tie. During an Instagram Live event with the actor Connie Britton, Davis appeared downright giddy about her chances of winning, letting out a “Don’t make a liar out of me!” She was kidding, but there was also sincere trepidation in her voice. Davis, perhaps more than anyone, knows the dangers of getting swept up in the hype, and the heartbreak of assuming that this will be the year Texas turns blue.
Given that Davis staged what was essentially an 11-hour performance piece on the floor of the state Senate in 2013, you might expect her to be theatrical in person—a wild gesticulator, or a master of dramatic pacing. You would be wrong. The 57-year-old lawyer has a regal mien that recalls a not-evil Claire Underwood (incidentally, a character who, like Davis, is a native Texan who lost her accent along the way). Davis’s diction is ivory tower and her framing cerebral, even in the personal story she tells of discovering Planned Parenthood at 19, after giving birth to her first child, Amber: “They made it possible for me to take control of my reproductive destiny, and that made it possible for me to take control of my economic opportunity. So I understand very deeply why that matters so much.”
Two days before the stop in San Antonio in February, Davis attended an event at the Kerr County Democratic Party headquarters, in Kerrville. Kerrville is among the reddest parts of the district, so much so that six months later, Chip Roy would share a maskless fist bump with the town’s former mayor, later shrugging off his behavior to a reporter for the Austin American-Statesman: “When in Rome.” The mostly white Boomers who came out for Davis were the area’s committed Democratic minority—one man wore a MAGA-style hat that said Make Orwell Fiction Again. Most of their questions were about Davis’s efforts to expand the electorate—this group loved her, but they couldn’t see her convincing many more people from their demographic to vote for her. (Do you speak Spanish? one woman asked the candidate. Working on it, she replied.) Toward the end, a guy in the back about 30 years younger than nearly everyone else, with a smartwatch, a hipster haircut, and skinny jeans, raised his hand: Where did Davis stand on the Green New Deal?
“I’m for drafting the most aggressive bill”—Davis paused—“that will pass in the Senate.”
The question touched a nerve. Her then–campaign manager later told me that she thought the guy might have been a plant from a “far left” interest group. The campaign was almost certainly wary of a third-party candidate playing spoiler, as has happened in tight races elsewhere. Indeed, when a Green Party candidate threw his hat in the ring in April, Davis’s campaign sued to keep him off the ballot because he hadn’t paid the required filing fees. (She ultimately lost.)
Davis is not at all shy about being a moderate. In fact, she wants to lay claim to that designation, though she prefers the term mainstream. While health care is the centerpiece of her campaign—and she will say approximately a billion times, to me, on Twitter, on the trail, presumably in her sleep, that Texas has the highest rate of uninsured people in the country—her solution is not Medicare for All. Rather, she prefers a competitive public option and expanding Medicare and Medicaid. “Making sure every person in America has health care is a bold idea,” she told me in February.. “It doesn’t mean we’re small thinkers if we don’t think Medicare for All tomorrow is the correct path, right?”
Her record is definitely on the mainstream side. The first political office she held was as a member of the Fort Worth city council, which didn’t have party affiliations. During her time as a council member and later as a state senator, she championed a variety of causes, including commercial development in Fort Worth, protections against predatory lending, and regulation of—rather than a ban on—the nascent and booming fracking industry. (Davis even voted in several GOP primaries in the 1990s and, according to public records, donated to George W. Bush just before he announced his first presidential campaign.)
The problem is, as much as Davis and her campaign operatives believe mainstream is the way to go in a district that is purplish at best, and in a race where her opponent has given her the Trumpian nickname “Extreme Wendy,” the progressive faction of her party has more energy and influence than it has had in decades. She alienates the skinny-jeans set at her peril.
It’s a strange spot for Davis to be in. Once described by former Planned Parenthood President Cecile Richards as someone who “makes people believe anything was possible,” Davis now can’t take for granted the support of her party’s left flank. She’s been lapped by the new generation of progressive stars, with their full-throated denunciations of capitalism and inequality, of structural racism and sexism. Davis’s challenge is one faced by Democrats across the country hoping to capture traditionally Republican seats: how to keep progressives happy enough to pull the lever and woo members of the opposite party to do the same.
Wendy Davis at home with her dog, Ziggy, on October 11
Davis blames her poor showing against Greg Abbott on being overly “message-managed.” If, for instance, she had attempted to talk about the importance of gun control—something she has done often in her current race—“my team would have told me I lost my freaking mind,” Davis told me, beginning to sound almost wistful.“For me, that race felt so big and so hard. I didn’t trust myself as much as I had in other races.”
Bob Stein, a political-science professor at Rice University, is less existential in his assessment. “Let’s just get honest here. She wasn’t what I’d call a great candidate,” he told me. He thinks Davis miscalculated how much identity politics would motivate female voters, especially on the abortion issue. “She felt there were white Republican women who were offended that white males wanted to tell them what to do with their reproductive rights, and there weren’t.” Davis has been much more circumspect about the issue this time around. At the start of the pandemic, when the state halted abortions on the grounds that they were a “non-essential” medical procedure, Davis tweeted about the topic only a handful of times, using relatively measured language. “This makes absolutely zero sense and makes women more vulnerable, not less so,” she said in one tweet.
In late September, when Senator Bernie Sanders hosted a virtual town hall, cheekily titled “As Goes Texas, So Goes America,” with various Texas Democrats—including Julie Oliver, running a tight race in the neighboring Twenty-Fifth, and José Garza, vying for district attorney in Travis County, which overlaps with the Twenty-First—Davis was conspicuously absent. Less polarizing special guests like Julián Castro and Beto O’Rourke weren’t enough of a counterbalance, it seemed, for Davis to risk being perceived as even socialist-curious. (When I asked her about her decision not to participate, Davis claimed ignorance. “I certainly don’t remember making a decision not to attend it,” she said. “I may not even have known about it, and that’s probably the case.”)
On the drive back to Austin from Kerrville in the winter, along a stretch of Highway 290 dotted with peach stands and personal-injury lawyers’ billboards, Davis explained where she sees herself in the landscape of Democratic talent. “It would not be AOC. It would be Amy Klobuchar,” she said decisively. “It would be the person who goes in, puts her head down, and just works with people quietly and gets it done, you know? And that’s not to take away from AOC, because I know that she’s working hard on the things that really matter to her, but that’s just not me.”
The irony is, despite Davis’s efforts to distance herself from the younger progressives, they’ve helped provoke changes in attitude that are making her life easier, especially with regard to feminism. For one thing, there is much more recognition now that concepts such as “likability” are polluted by gender stereotypes—and Davis’s likability, recall, was underwater by the end of the governor’s race. A major cause of Texans’ disenchantment with Davis was media reports that she had fudged parts of her biography: She only lived in the trailer for a few months, which critics deemed not long enough to mention at all. Most damning, though, was the revelation that her then-husband had paid her law-school tuition and cared for their two children in Fort Worth while she was studying at Harvard—prompting Ann Coulter to call Davis a “gold-digger who found a sugar daddy.” As proof that beliefs have evolved, look no further than what happened in March 2019, when Davis’s fellow Texan, Beto O’Rourke, made a passing reference while he was running for president to his wife assuming most of the parenting duties. That he seemed to take this arrangement for granted, without so much as an I’m so lucky, incited a barrage of accusations of male privilege. (He later apologized.)
Beto-for-President seems like ancient history. So much has happened in the past year and a half, and those events are still reverberating in the contest between Davis and Roy. Even as Trump’s poll numbers have fallen in Texas, Roy has not stopped praising the president’s handling of the outbreak or trafficking in conspiracy theories, such as speculation that Democrats will experience a “magic awakening” after the election and their fears about the coronavirus will vanish. (Roy did complain, however, that his comments about Nazi Germany were taken out of context, explaining that he was referring only to a specific policy in Maine related to travel restrictions.) Meanwhile, Davis’s campaign has pronounced Roy the “nation’s top coronavirus skeptic” and a “danger to Texas families.” “I’m observing my opponent going on CNN and telling the interviewer that everything’s just fine in Texas on the day that we actually had the highest number of deaths in our state that we’d had to that point,” Davis told me when we spoke in August.
The contrast between the two candidates’ responses to police brutality against Black people isn’t quite as sharp. After George Floyd’s killing in May, Davis slammed the president’s response, tweeting, “True leaders mourn with the families who have lost loved ones,” and she held a virtual town hall on the topic of racial justice and trans rights on June 11. But the next month, after a protester was fatally shot in downtown Austin and the national call for defunding the police reached a peak, she lowered the temperature of her rhetoric, tweeting: “The incident last night in Austin at the Black Lives Matter protest was horrific. As we await more info, let us reaffirm that the right to peaceful protest is sacred in America.” No doubt, Davis, who supports reforms such as banning chokeholds but has stopped short of anything more radical, is aware of just how badly defunding the police plays with the suburban voters she’s trying to get. This is not lost on Roy, either. He took a staunch law-and-order tack amid the tear-gas standoffs between protesters and police that rocked Austin and San Antonio over the summer. And in September, after NBA players boycotted a handful of games to protest police brutality in Kenosha, Wisconsin, he appeared on the floor of the House with a framed jersey emblazoned with a 43: the number of on-duty law-enforcement officers killed so far this year, he said. “Where is the NBA” on this issue? Roy demanded.
One of Davis’s favorite pieces of political trivia is about how Ann Richards, Cecile’s mother and the patron saint of female politicians in Texas, won her 1990 bid for governor. The prevailing lore is that Richards’s opponent, Clayton Williams, immolated a winning campaign with a single bizarre joke about rape (comparing it to bad weather, he said, “If it’s inevitable, just relax and enjoy it”).
“But it wasn’t the rape joke that did it,” Davis told me, offering a slightly more nuanced account. Williams actually blew it at a public event right before the election, when Richards extended her hand to him, and he refused to shake it. “Had that happened on any other day––two days prior, or three days later––she probably wouldn’t have won,” Davis said excitedly. “It was perfect timing.” It’s a lesson about just how swiftly circumstances can change in a campaign. It’s also about how, if you’re patient as a candidate, you just might get an opening—a once-in-a-century pandemic, say—to show voters what you’re really all about.


theatlantic--2020-10-19--The Vaccine News That Really Matters

The Vaccine News That Really Matters

Phase 3 trials are always large , but the ones for COVID-19 vaccines are especially so , Ruth Karron , the director of the Johns Hopkins Center for Immunization Research , says .
Vaccine trials depend on volunteers getting exposed to COVID-19 as they live their life : The incidence of illness in the treatment group compared with the placebo group shows how effective the vaccine is .
A normal vaccine trial might recruit 3,000 to 6,000 volunteers , but could run for years .
We don ’ t have that kind of time with COVID-19 .
Each trial plans @ @ @ @ @ @ @ , and to hit that number , companies can either wait a long time for fewer volunteers to get naturally infected or they can recruit lots and lots of volunteers , which is what they ’ ve done .
“ We want to be able to detect an efficacy signal as quickly as possible , ” Karron says .
The public now knows exactly how many infections these COVID-19 trials are planning for—and how many would trigger an interim analysis of early data .
In an unprecedented but much-applauded move , the leading @ @ @ @ @ @ @ .
Moderna , for example , will conduct two interim analyses at about 53 and 106 infections .
AstraZeneca is doing one at about 75 cases .
Pfizer is doing four at 32 , 62 , 92 , and 120 cases .
“ Pfizer ’ s , from what I can see , is the most aggressive , ” Derek Lowe , a chemist who writes about drug discovery for his blog , In the Pipeline , says .
Companies are not required to release interim analyses , but they might in this @ @ @ @ @ @ @ in a COVID-19 vaccine ; promising results could also be the basis for applying for an emergency use authorization from the Food and Drug Administration .
This is why Pfizer was the only company to once suggest that its vaccine might be authorized before the election—though it has since said it will wait until at least mid-November to finish collecting safety data .
Pfizer is still likely to be the first out of the gate with interim results on efficacy .
“ I very much hope that Pfizer does their first interim , @ @ @ @ @ @ @ knows ?
” Lowe says .
“ They also then have a better chance of doing an interim readout and having it not quite come out as strong as they want it , because they ’ re doing it earlier.
” With such small numbers—the first interim analysis will occur after only 32 infections—it may still be unclear how well the vaccine actually protects against disease .
If most of the infections are in the placebo group—say 26 out of 32—that would suggest the vaccine is at least 76 percent effective .
That @ @ @ @ @ @ @ scientists have cautioned that a COVID-19 vaccine might be less effective than we ’ d like , based on how vaccines against respiratory viruses tend to work .
The FDA has set a bar of at least 50 percent efficacy for a COVID-19 vaccine .
It ’ ll take longer and more cases for trials to reach a conclusion if vaccine efficacy is on the lower side .
So if the first interim results are a little disappointing , that “ doesn ’ t mean this is a failed vaccine , ” Lowe @ @ @ @ @ @ @ going to keep on rolling.
” We ’ ll have a better idea of efficacy once we ’ ve seen how the vaccine performs in more people .

Before COVID-19 upended our lives, clinical vaccine trials typically made news only when they were done—when scientists could definitively say, Yes, this one works or No, it doesn’t. These days, every step of the COVID-19 vaccine-development process comes under intense public scrutiny: This vaccine works in monkeys! It’s safe in the 45 people who have gotten it! The entire trial is on pause because one participant got sick, but we don’t know yet whether the person got a vaccine or a placebo!
“Never before have there been vaccine trials that have been followed so closely from inception to onset to conduct,” Dan Barouch, a vaccine researcher at Harvard and collaborator on Johnson & Johnson’s vaccine, says. Over the next few months, the companies behind the leading vaccine candidates will start releasing the first data from large clinical trials. Most likely, they will not be unalloyed good news or bad news. Keeping expectations measured will require understanding when a vaccine clears just one of many hurdles—it doesn’t have to be perfect, but it must be good enough.
Clinical trials usually follow three phases, with the first two focused on questions of safety and dosing. By Phase 3, a vaccine should already be proven safe for most people, which leads to the key question: How well does it actually work? Five vaccines—from Pfizer, Moderna, AstraZeneca, Johnson & Johnson, and Novavax—have already begun or are beginning Phase 3 trials that seek to recruit tens of thousands of volunteers in the U.S.
Read: A vaccine reality check
Phase 3 trials are always large, but the ones for COVID-19 vaccines are especially so, Ruth Karron, the director of the Johns Hopkins Center for Immunization Research, says. Vaccine trials depend on volunteers getting exposed to COVID-19 as they live their life: The incidence of illness in the treatment group compared with the placebo group shows how effective the vaccine is. A normal vaccine trial might recruit 3,000 to 6,000 volunteers, but could run for years. We don’t have that kind of time with COVID-19. Each trial plans for a certain number of COVID-19 infections, and to hit that number, companies can either wait a long time for fewer volunteers to get naturally infected or they can recruit lots and lots of volunteers, which is what they’ve done. “We want to be able to detect an efficacy signal as quickly as possible,” Karron says.
The public now knows exactly how many infections these COVID-19 trials are planning for—and how many would trigger an interim analysis of early data. In an unprecedented but much-applauded move, the leading vaccine companies have released detailed trial protocols. Moderna, for example, will conduct two interim analyses at about 53 and 106 infections. AstraZeneca is doing one at about 75 cases. Pfizer is doing four at 32, 62, 92, and 120 cases. “Pfizer’s, from what I can see, is the most aggressive,” Derek Lowe, a chemist who writes about drug discovery for his blog, In the Pipeline, says. Companies are not required to release interim analyses, but they might in this case, given the extraordinary public interest in a COVID-19 vaccine; promising results could also be the basis for applying for an emergency use authorization from the Food and Drug Administration. This is why Pfizer was the only company to once suggest that its vaccine might be authorized before the election—though it has since said it will wait until at least mid-November to finish collecting safety data.
Pfizer is still likely to be the first out of the gate with interim results on efficacy. “I very much hope that Pfizer does their first interim, and it kicks ass. But who knows?” Lowe says. “They also then have a better chance of doing an interim readout and having it not quite come out as strong as they want it, because they’re doing it earlier.” With such small numbers—the first interim analysis will occur after only 32 infections—it may still be unclear how well the vaccine actually protects against disease.
If most of the infections are in the placebo group—say 26 out of 32—that would suggest the vaccine is at least 76 percent effective. That’d be pretty good. But scientists have cautioned that a COVID-19 vaccine might be less effective than we’d like, based on how vaccines against respiratory viruses tend to work. The FDA has set a bar of at least 50 percent efficacy for a COVID-19 vaccine. It’ll take longer and more cases for trials to reach a conclusion if vaccine efficacy is on the lower side. So if the first interim results are a little disappointing, that “doesn’t mean this is a failed vaccine,” Lowe says. “We’re just going to keep on rolling.” We’ll have a better idea of efficacy once we’ve seen how the vaccine performs in more people.
Conversely, it shouldn’t come as a shock if some of these vaccine candidates do turn out to be ineffective. The development process from Phase 1 to 2 to 3 has gone very smoothly so far. But, in general, more than 90 percent of drugs and treatments fail, and close to 50 percent of them fail in Phase 3. Lowe says he expects COVID-19 vaccine candidates to do much better because scientists are building on research into MERS and SARS, two related coronaviruses. But the whole point of conducting clinical trials is to find out if a vaccine works, so we shouldn’t expect them all to succeed. With 46 vaccine candidates already in clinical trials around the world, scientists are optimistic that at least some will be effective.
Read: Vaccine chaos is looming
The other big question, of course, is one of safety. The smaller Phase 1 and Phase 2 vaccine trials have so far found adverse events including fatigue, chills, headache, and pain at the injection site. But the big Phase 3 trials are meant to find rarer adverse events that might turn up in only, say, one in 10,000 people. That’s one advantage of these unusually large Phase 3 studies. Then again, volunteers might get sick for unrelated reasons, too, and any connection to the vaccine can be tricky to determine. With all the Phase 3 trials going on, “you’re talking about hundreds of thousands of people, some of whom are elderly, over a prolonged period of time,” Barouch says. “So there will be heart attacks. There will be strokes. There will be cancers. There will be neurological events.”
A serious adverse event—like a neurological disorder—triggers a study pause and a review by an independent data-and-safety-monitoring board. This board is made up of scientists who do not work for the vaccine company and are not investigators for the trial itself. First, they would “unblind,” to figure out whether the person got a vaccine or a placebo. And if the participant got the vaccine, the board might seek additional medical records and data to look for any possible link between the vaccine and the adverse event. The AstraZeneca and Johnson & Johnson vaccine trials are currently halted in the U.S. due to adverse events, though AstraZeneca’s has since resumed in other parts of the world. These pauses are relatively common with vaccines, which have a very high safety bar because they, unlike drugs, are given to healthy people. Normally, a pause doesn’t become public if the trial is resumed, but COVID-19 vaccines are under special scrutiny. “Hearing there is a pause means the system is working,” Karron says, because it means safety concerns are being investigated.
Recruiting large numbers of volunteers speeds up the trials significantly, but investigators will still have to wait to understand a vaccine’s long-term safety. While normal vaccine trials might run for years before going to the FDA, the agency says it will require at least two months’ worth of follow-up data before authorizing a COVID-19 vaccine for emergency use. (Emergency use authorization, or EUA, is a lower bar than formal approval.) Peter Marks, the director of the FDA division responsible for vaccines, has said that this time frame was chosen because most adverse events show up by the two-month mark. Experts agree that this is reasonable, given the pandemic, but regulators will continue monitoring the vaccine’s safety after emergency authorization and approval.
When COVID-19 vaccines are eventually given to millions of Americans, some number of extremely rare—literally one-in-a-million—events will occur. The flu vaccine, for example, is linked to one or two additional cases of a rare neurological disorder called Guillain-Barré syndrome for every 1 million doses administered. But public-health officials weigh that risk against the 12,000 to 61,000 people who die of seasonal flu every year in the U.S.
With the FDA’s two months of required safety data, mid-November is the earliest companies might seek emergency approval for a COVID-19 vaccine, assuming the required number of infections is met. The interim data in a small number of people may or may not offer clear results, but the bigger picture is worth keeping in mind: Many, many candidates are in the pipeline. The first vaccine will make news, but it might not be the most effective, the easiest to deploy, or ultimately even the most widely used.


The Midnight Message

The Atlantic of that era did its part in the fight for freedom and equality and union .
A few months before the editors published “ Paul Revere ’ s Ride , ” they endorsed Abraham Lincoln for president , and scored the debased ethos of the age : Sordid and materialistic views of the true value and objects of society and government are professed more and more openly by the leaders of popular outcry , if it can not be called public opinion .
That side of human nature which it has been the object of all law-givers and @ @ @ @ @ @ @ and caressed ; whatever is profitable is right .
The current stewards of The Atlantic would not claim today ’ s magazine to be the moral or aesthetic equivalent of The Atlantic of the antebellum era .
But we still believe America is worth saving .
And in this moment of peril , in which a man uniquely unsuited for the presidency stands for reelection , and in which purveyors of sordid and materialistic views enable this man to demolish the institutions and ideas that make America—you should pardon the word—great , we @ @ @ @ @ @ @ try , to bring you the truth of this crisis .
Our cover story this month , by Barton Gellman , is a clear warning about what the coming months could bring .
David Frum , who early on in these pages identified the encroaching danger of autocracy , warns that representative democracy in this country hangs in the balance .
Over the past four years , The Atlantic ’ s writers have exposed corruption , depredation , racism , and the fragility of our democratic experiment .
We will continue to do @ @ @ @ @ @ @ on November 3 and after .
We thank you for reading , and for joining us on our modest version of Paul Revere ’ s ride .

Yoav Horesh
In the January 1861 issue of this magazine, Henry Wadsworth Longfellow, one of The Atlantic’s founders, published what would become perhaps his most popular poem, the opening stanza of which is immortal: “Listen, my children, and you shall hear / Of the midnight ride of Paul Revere.” But the past century or so has not been overly kind to “Paul Revere’s Ride,” or to the rest of the Longfellow canon. He’s been adjudicated by many critics to have been a purveyor of sentimental, manipulative doggerel. But stay with me for a minute, because beneath its putative literary failings, the work has hidden layers. Longfellow, like most of The Atlantic’s founders—including Ralph Waldo Emerson, James Russell Lowell, and Harriet Beecher Stowe—was an ardent abolitionist, and used funds raised from the sale of his poems to buy freedom for enslaved people in the South.
“Paul Revere’s Ride” should not be read as mythmaking patriotic twaddle. Longfellow wrote this poem to serve as a wake-up call to the sleeping North—a summons to join the great abolitionist struggle when the future of the Union itself was in doubt. It was animated by a belief that America was worth saving. “In the hour of darkness and peril and need, / The people will waken and listen to hear / The hurrying hoof-beat of that steed, / And the midnight-message of Paul Revere.”
The Atlantic of that era did its part in the fight for freedom and equality and union. A few months before the editors published “Paul Revere’s Ride,” they endorsed Abraham Lincoln for president, and scored the debased ethos of the age:
Sordid and materialistic views of the true value and objects of society and government are professed more and more openly by the leaders of popular outcry, if it cannot be called public opinion. That side of human nature which it has been the object of all law-givers and moralists to repress and subjugate is flattered and caressed; whatever is profitable is right.
The current stewards of The Atlantic would not claim today’s magazine to be the moral or aesthetic equivalent of The Atlantic of the antebellum era. But we still believe America is worth saving. And in this moment of peril, in which a man uniquely unsuited for the presidency stands for reelection, and in which purveyors of sordid and materialistic views enable this man to demolish the institutions and ideas that make America—you should pardon the word—great, we have tried, and will continue to try, to bring you the truth of this crisis. Our cover story this month, by Barton Gellman, is a clear warning about what the coming months could bring. David Frum, who early on in these pages identified the encroaching danger of autocracy, warns that representative democracy in this country hangs in the balance. Over the past four years, The Atlantic’s writers have exposed corruption, depredation, racism, and the fragility of our democratic experiment. We will continue to do this work, no matter what happens on November 3 and after.
We thank you for reading, and for joining us on our modest version of Paul Revere’s ride.


theatlantic--2020-10-20--Biden’s Battle for Black Men

Biden’s Battle for Black Men

Four years ago , at a rally an hour and a half northwest of Detroit , Donald Trump asked what came to be an infamous question .
“ You ’ re living in poverty , your schools are no good , you have no jobs .
Fifty-eight percent of your youth are unemployed , ” he said , referring to Black voters .
“ What the hell do you have to lose ?
” He boasted to the audience in Dimondale , a city that is 93 percent white , that after four years , he would win 95 percent @ @ @ @ @ @ @ .
But four years later , one of every 1,000 Black Americans has died during a pandemic that has disproportionately affected them , and the Black unemployment rate is more than 50 percent higher than it was at the end of the Obama administration .
Still , the Biden campaign is not resting on that fact alone to get Black men to turn out in three weeks .
A lot of Black men “ were Trump-curious in 2016 , and they thought that he was some great businessman and prosperity would rain down @ @ @ @ @ @ @ Richmond of Louisiana , one of the Biden-campaign co-chairs , told me recently .
But although Black voters helped catapult the Biden campaign in the Democratic primary , several polls among Black men have remained consistent with the last election .
In one September survey of likely voters , Black women , again , overwhelmingly support the Democratic nominee , former Vice President Joe Biden , but roughly 17 percent of Black men say they plan to support the president .
Still , Richmond told me , the campaign believes it can outperform @ @ @ @ @ @ @ Black men about the things they ’ re concerned about.
” The campaign ’ s strategy is similar to the one it employed during the Democratic primary , Trey Baker , the Biden campaign ’ s national director for African American engagement , told me .
“ The primary is like a series of local elections , ” he said .
“ It ’ s like you ’ re running for mayor in every town across the country.
” The relationships with local activists , barbers , pastors , and other leaders are @ @ @ @ @ @ @ ’ s team has carried the relationships it built during such retail campaigning in the primary to its largely virtual homestretch .
The boost Biden received from Black voters in South Carolina rescued his primary campaign , and their support across the rest of the South sustained it .
The campaign hopes they will buoy him in November , as well .
But the Biden campaign struggled with young Black voters during the primary .
( In one February Morning Consult poll , 46 percent of Black voters under the age of 45 @ @ @ @ @ @ @ Sanders . )
In late September , Vince Evans , who directed Biden ’ s southern political strategy during the primary campaign and now works as Harris ’ s political director , went home to Florida and saw firsthand the lack of enthusiasm some young Black men had for the former vice president .
“ He wasn ’ t sure he was going to vote , but I eventually got him there , ” Evans told me of one of his cousins .
“ But he talked about the two things that were @ @ @ @ @ @ @ young men in my family—and it was : What can we do to once and for all deal with systemic racism in this country ?
And job security.
” According to a July survey conducted by American University in Wisconsin , Michigan , Pennsylvania , North Carolina , Florida , and Georgia , Black Americans under the age of 30 were more likely to fear police brutality , and less likely to trust that Democrats would do what is in the best interest of the Black community .
These are the voters the @ @ @ @ @ @ @ investigation in the United Kingdom revealed , tried to deter from voting in 2016—and the ones it hopes will stay home in this cycle as well .
The margins matter when it comes to Black support .
Some voters might be encouraged to vote for Biden because he ’ s not Trump .
As the media obsessed over how Black voters would swing in 2004 , one voter told the Chicago Tribune , “ I ’ m not excited about Kerry , but he ’ s the other guy ; he ’ s @ @ @ @ @ @ @ won 88 percent of Black votes that year . )
Four years later , a record 95 percent of Black voters supported Barack Obama ’ s historic candidacy .
But in 2016 , Hillary Clinton was not able to hold on to the coalition Obama built .
Even so , she matched Kerry ’ s numbers , earning 88 percent of the Black vote .
As Theodore R. Johnson wrote in The New York Times Magazine last month , “ an enduring unity at the ballot box is not confirmation that Black voters @ @ @ @ @ @ @ issue , but rather that they hold the same view on the one most consequential issue : racial equality.
” But will enough Black voters show up to carry Biden ?

American-flag bunting frames Headliners Barbershop in Detroit. Out front, four barber’s chairs, spaced six feet apart, form a straight line. In one of them, Garlin Gilchrist, the lieutenant governor of Michigan, sits up, then leans on the right armrest, turning to Senator Kamala Harris, who occupies the seat next to him. “All of us know somebody who has been affected or who has died,” he tells the Democratic vice-presidential nominee. “That’s happened to me 23 times since this pandemic hit. Twenty-three goodbyes.” Harris nods along.
Through his black mask, Gilchrist tells the smattering of Black men from the area who have joined the “Shop Talk” event, the Biden campaign’s series of conversations focused on Black voters, that all of this was preventable. Since the pandemic began, more than 7,000 Michiganders have lost their lives to the coronavirus. “Not a single one of them had to die. Their death was a policy failure—a policy failure that started with a failure in the White House,” he says.
Although Black women have often been called “the backbone of the Democratic Party,” Black men have not been reliably Democratic in such large numbers. During the 2016 election, 98 percent of Black women who voted cast their ballots for Hillary Clinton, whereas 81 percent of Black men did. Fourteen percent of Black men voted for Donald Trump. The Biden campaign knew, going into the race, that it would need to maintain that support Clinton received. But merely matching Clinton’s numbers would not be enough—it needed to build upon them. The campaign recognized that its success or failure in energizing Black men could dictate whether America had four more years of the Trump administration. As millions of voters have begun mailing in their ballots and voting in person, the Biden campaign is racing to make its final pitches to the electorate, including Black men. It has held virtual conversations with prominent Black mayors, dispatched Magic Johnson to Detroit, and blanketed television and radio with ads designed to reach Black men and avoid a repeat of 2016.
Read: The neglect of Latino voters
Four years ago, at a rally an hour and a half northwest of Detroit, Donald Trump asked what came to be an infamous question. “You’re living in poverty, your schools are no good, you have no jobs. Fifty-eight percent of your youth are unemployed,” he said, referring to Black voters. “What the hell do you have to lose?” He boasted to the audience in Dimondale, a city that is 93 percent white, that after four years, he would win 95 percent of the Black vote in the country. But four years later, one of every 1,000 Black Americans has died during a pandemic that has disproportionately affected them, and the Black unemployment rate is more than 50 percent higher than it was at the end of the Obama administration. Still, the Biden campaign is not resting on that fact alone to get Black men to turn out in three weeks.
A lot of Black men “were Trump-curious in 2016, and they thought that he was some great businessman and prosperity would rain down from his administration,” Representative Cedric Richmond of Louisiana, one of the Biden-campaign co-chairs, told me recently. But although Black voters helped catapult the Biden campaign in the Democratic primary, several polls among Black men have remained consistent with the last election. In one September survey of likely voters, Black women, again, overwhelmingly support the Democratic nominee, former Vice President Joe Biden, but roughly 17 percent of Black men say they plan to support the president. Still, Richmond told me, the campaign believes it can outperform those expectations by “talking straight to Black men about the things they’re concerned about.”
The campaign’s strategy is similar to the one it employed during the Democratic primary, Trey Baker, the Biden campaign’s national director for African American engagement, told me. “The primary is like a series of local elections,” he said. “It’s like you’re running for mayor in every town across the country.” The relationships with local activists, barbers, pastors, and other leaders are where those elections are won. Biden’s team has carried the relationships it built during such retail campaigning in the primary to its largely virtual homestretch. The boost Biden received from Black voters in South Carolina rescued his primary campaign, and their support across the rest of the South sustained it. The campaign hopes they will buoy him in November, as well. But the Biden campaign struggled with young Black voters during the primary. (In one February Morning Consult poll, 46 percent of Black voters under the age of 45 said they would have preferred Senator Bernie Sanders.)
In late September, Vince Evans, who directed Biden’s southern political strategy during the primary campaign and now works as Harris’s political director, went home to Florida and saw firsthand the lack of enthusiasm some young Black men had for the former vice president. “He wasn’t sure he was going to vote, but I eventually got him there,” Evans told me of one of his cousins. “But he talked about the two things that were top of mind for him—and the other young men in my family—and it was: What can we do to once and for all deal with systemic racism in this country? And job security.” According to a July survey conducted by American University in Wisconsin, Michigan, Pennsylvania, North Carolina, Florida, and Georgia, Black Americans under the age of 30 were more likely to fear police brutality, and less likely to trust that Democrats would do what is in the best interest of the Black community. These are the voters the Trump campaign, a Channel 4 News investigation in the United Kingdom revealed, tried to deter from voting in 2016—and the ones it hopes will stay home in this cycle as well.
The margins matter when it comes to Black support. Some voters might be encouraged to vote for Biden because he’s not Trump. As the media obsessed over how Black voters would swing in 2004, one voter told the Chicago Tribune, “I’m not excited about Kerry, but he’s the other guy; he’s the alternative to Bush.” (Kerry won 88 percent of Black votes that year.) Four years later, a record 95 percent of Black voters supported Barack Obama’s historic candidacy. But in 2016, Hillary Clinton was not able to hold on to the coalition Obama built. Even so, she matched Kerry’s numbers, earning 88 percent of the Black vote. As Theodore R. Johnson wrote in The New York Times Magazine last month, “an enduring unity at the ballot box is not confirmation that Black voters hold the same views on every contested issue, but rather that they hold the same view on the one most consequential issue: racial equality.” But will enough Black voters show up to carry Biden?
Though white college-educated women might be the bloc most likely to swing this election, the Biden campaign doesn’t want to take any chances. Back outside of Headliners, Gilchrist made clear Michigan’s responsibility in electing Trump. “This is the state Trump won by the slimmest margin of any state: 10,704 votes. A number that is seared into my mind for the rest of eternity,” he said. “But I challenge you that there are 11,000 Black men in Michigan that can turn that around.”
Read: The November surprise
On September 29, seven days after Gilchrist and Harris spoke at the barbershop, Biden and Trump met on stage in Cleveland for the first Democratic debate. Trump bulldozed the conversation. He talked over the moderator, Chris Wallace. He interrupted Biden. But the steady hum of crosstalk subsided for a moment as Wallace briefly regained control. “Why should voters trust you rather than your opponent to deal with the race issues facing this country?” he asked both candidates. Biden alluded to America’s unfulfilled promises—the equality guaranteed by the Constitution that has not been made available to all Americans. Trump knocked Biden for his work on the 1994 Crime Bill, which has dogged his candidacy, before pivoting to a muddy response about his support among law enforcement.
But Richmond—and the Biden campaign—want to expand the conversation beyond that question. “There are a number of things that highlight the urgency of this election. One is the racial awakening. But if we’re talking about Black males, that’s nothing new,” Richmond told me. Systemic racism is nothing new when you’ve lived it. “We didn’t need eight minutes and 46 seconds of a police officer on George Floyd’s neck to know what was happening.” The 41 percent of Black businesses that have closed as a result of the pandemic, the 60 percent of Black households facing “serious financial problems,” and the abysmal Black unemployment rate after four years of the Trump administration offer a clear divide between Biden and the president, Richmond argued. “We all know who Donald Trump is. The real question is who we want to be.”


theatlantic--2020-10-20--Why Biden Needs Black Men

Why Biden Needs Black Men