I keep thinking about 2020, not because I want to relive it, but because I am not convinced we learned what we needed to learn.
After George Floyd’s murder, Americans argued about policing, racism, protest, violence, and what it means to value another person’s life. Some of those conversations were necessary. Others became contests over slogans, with people more interested in defending their side than listening to what anyone else was saying.
Black Lives Matter. All Lives Matter. Before long, the words themselves became political identities.
I believe every life matters. But I have also come to believe that saying those words is the easy part. The harder part is acknowledging when a particular group is being harmed and doing something about it, even when the conversation makes us uncomfortable.
Black Lives Matter emerged to confront racism and violence against Black people, particularly in policing. It does not mean that other lives lack value. “All lives matter,” taken literally, expresses a principle I agree with. But when it is used to answer a specific complaint about injustice, it can redirect the conversation away from the people asking to be heard.
If someone tells me their house is burning, I do not help them by announcing that every house deserves protection. They already know that. They need me to notice the fire.
That does not mean every activist, organization, or protest tactic is beyond criticism. Nobody should get that exemption. It means we can acknowledge a legitimate concern without endorsing everything done in its name.
I wish we could carry that distinction into politics more often. Instead, we keep behaving as though admitting our own side has failed is more dangerous than the failure itself.
With the midterms approaching, I want something better than another round of loyalty tests. I want accountability, applied consistently, including when it inconveniences people I support.
Here in Nashville, that starts with looking beyond the performance.
Marsha Blackburn, who is running for governor, recently shared an AI-generated video depicting herself and other Tennessee Republicans performing Kendrick Lamar’s “Not Like Us”. The video promoted early voting and attracted plenty of criticism and ridicule. Blackburn described it as something fun created by a county commissioner and reposted by her campaign.
Politicians are allowed to have fun. Not every awkward campaign post deserves to become a national emergency, and I am not going to pretend an embarrassing video tells us everything about someone’s ability to govern.
But it does make me wonder how much attention we are willing to spend on political entertainment while the substance gets pushed aside.
I live here. I need more than a meme from someone asking to lead Tennessee. I want clear answers about health care, housing, schools, infrastructure, and the people who struggle to access services that others take for granted. I want reporting that examines those answers as thoroughly as it examines a strange video.
The problem is not humor. The problem is when personality becomes the product and governing becomes an afterthought.
That distinction matters even more when the person commanding our attention is the president.
Donald Trump’s public appearances have raised questions about his health, including instances in which he has appeared to doze during events. Trump has disputed that interpretation. Responding to scrutiny of a Cabinet meeting earlier this year, he said he had closed his eyes because he was bored, not asleep.
I cannot diagnose him from a video. Neither can someone simply because they have a microphone, a television contract, or millions of subscribers. Appearing tired is not proof of cognitive decline, and repeating a medical explanation does not make it established fact.
But uncertainty should lead to honest questions, not demands that everyone stop asking.
Americans deserve credible information about a president’s ability to perform the job. That standard should apply to Trump, Joe Biden, and anyone who comes after them. If I demand transparency from a Republican but excuse secrecy from a Democrat, I am defending a team rather than a principle.
I understand why people turn to commentators such as Brian Tyler Cohen, Adam Mockler, and MeidasTouch when they feel established outlets are missing something. Independent media can make important contributions. Still, I do not want to replace unquestioning trust in one institution with unquestioning trust in a personality.
A compelling clip should send us looking for the full recording. A serious allegation should send us looking for documents, corroboration, and the response from the person involved. The obligation to check does not disappear because the conclusion feels right.
That matters because the decisions made by these officials reach far beyond the screen.
Consider Pete Hegseth’s proposal to livestream the execution of convicted Fort Hood murderer Nidal Hasan. The plan drew objections, and Trump ultimately stopped the proposed broadcast. That intervention deserves acknowledgment, even from people who strongly oppose this administration.
But the proposal itself raises a question about judgment. What public purpose would such a broadcast serve? Would it support the people affected by the crime, or turn punishment and military authority into another spectacle?
We should be able to ask that without anyone pretending we are minimizing the murders.
Hegseth also drew criticism from Polish leaders over remarks downplaying allied contributions to the war in Afghanistan. Poland’s foreign minister pointed to the 44 Polish soldiers who died serving there.
Those deaths were not talking points. They represented people, families, and commitments made alongside American forces. Respecting the military means taking those sacrifices seriously, not only praising service when it fits a political message.
And that brings me back to where I started. Everyone matters cannot simply mean everyone who votes like me, worships like me, looks like me, or agrees with my view of the country.
It has to include the Black family asking for fair treatment. The Tennessee patient worried about access to care. The service member carrying out decisions made far above their pay grade. The voter who wants an honest answer about presidential health. The person across the political divide who is frightened about the future for reasons I may not fully understand.
Recognizing their humanity does not require accepting every claim they make. Sometimes, respect means disagreeing clearly and holding someone responsible for the harm they cause.
I am a Democrat, and I have serious objections to this administration. I also know that criticism becomes less useful when it turns into a competition to produce the harshest insult. Calling someone foolish is easier than explaining what they did, why it matters, and what should happen instead.
I want elected officials to answer substantive questions. I want Congress to exercise oversight regardless of party. I want journalists to pursue facts without confusing fairness with giving every claim equal credibility. I want voters, myself included, to be willing to correct ourselves.
None of that will repair the country overnight. Some damage may take years to address. Trust is particularly difficult to rebuild once people learn to expect dishonesty from every direction.
But I refuse to believe rebuilding is impossible.
We can start by refusing to reward the behavior we say we despise. We can look past the video, read beyond the headline, check the claim, and ask what a candidate intends to do with the power they want.
Everyone matters. If we believe that, the people asking to lead us should have to govern like it.
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