Being Young Isn’t Enough – We Have to Be Courageous

By Jon-Dalton George 

“Young gets it done!” I said grinning ear to ear in a Boone Town Council meeting. We had just gotten a big infrastructure win that I was proud to play a part in. It’s been awhile since that meeting, but one of the folks in attendance still brings that phrase up when he sees me about town. "Young gets it done!"

If you’re under the age of 30 and you’ve attended any sort of political gathering or meeting, you’ve likely heard some variation of “It’s so good to see young people! You're the generation that will save us!”

It’s a sweet sentiment, and I’d be lying if I said it didn’t inspire me at times to do more, trying to deliver on the lofty political and organizing expectations placed on an entire generation. 

When I was running for political office at the ripe age of 22, folks took notice. And while a few skeptics had some unfair criticism because I hadn’t had enough revolutions around the sun, others cheered me on, even without knowing much about me or my platform. Young people across the state continue to grab positions of power, win elected office, and more. But, unfortunately, being young doesn’t automatically mean that you’re the perfect person to step up.

Here’s the thing: I’m so confident in young people that I think we have every capability of being as terrible as previous generations. The trappings of politics impacts everyone, regardless of age, and young people can make the same missteps generations before them did. Trust me, I’ve seen egoism, nepotism, infighting, selfishness, and more among my peers. The allure of some of these eternal political traps have snuck into my mind at times too, so this is not meant as a critical piece of writing, but a cautionary one. 

The reality is, any aspiring public servant that’s seeking elected office for themselves will only continue to add to the problems of our political landscape. 

That’s not to say that there’s no truth in the message that this generation has the potential to save our political process. Young folks in the political arena have the ability to look at our political history to learn how our political system hit such a snag. On how we’ve ended up in a place where we need saving to begin with. 

So the task before our generation, as we work to create better communities, is to challenge the way things have always been done. To find our own voice, not to emulate what a “politician” looks like. 

As both a young elected official and a person from a working-poor background in rural North Carolina, I’ve heard both messages — One, that young people will save us, that we alone can right the direction of our nation. The other, that anyone in political power will not care for those seen as less than, that to wait to be saved by those in power is to be resigned to defeat. And in all honesty, I think that the second message has a lot more going for it to justify its sentiment. 

I’m always conscious of this dynamic and I truly hope to be a small part in that cultural shift. to alter that latter message and belief and to be one of the “young ones who get it done.” 

To end positively, I’ve had conversations with young electeds and power holders across the state who seem keenly aware of the trappings of politics, who work hard to defeat those negative cultural forces and keep the danger of ego in check, who understand well the plate they’re stepping up to when entering this world. 

Anderson Clayon, the Chair of the NC Democratic Party, is another excellent example. And while some may see her and seek to emulate her, they miss the point. Her power comes from the fact that she’s herself. She’s taking on politics authentically and with courage. I think we’d do well to learn from that as much as we learn from her youth.

Jon-Dalton George is Mayor Pro-Tem of Boone and works for the Endangered Species Coalition.

The Republican Judges Are Hiding

 

The Court of Appeals ruling that delayed the mailing of absentee ballots in North Carolina, because RFK Jr., who had fought like hell to get on the ballot and is now fighting like hell to get off the ballot to please Donald Trump, was signed only by the clerk of the court. The names of the three judges who reached this unprecedented decision have been hidden:

The names of Court of Appeals judges ruling on petitions are confidential for 90 days, according to the clerk of court, so they won’t become public before the election. (NandO)

They're so proud of their dispensing of justice!

Is this not more evidence of judicial corruption? Or let's be charitable and call it outright hyper partisanship wearing black robes.

The RFK Jr. Saga, and the NC Judges Who Coddle Him

 

RALEIGH -- The North Carolina Court of Appeals on Friday blocked the state from sending out absentee ballots as it considers a lawsuit from Robert F. Kennedy Jr., who is seeking to be removed from the state’s presidential ballot. 

In an order released Friday, the court granted Kennedy’s petition to stay a decision from a lower court on Thursday, which had denied his request to be removed from the ballot. 

“This cause is remanded to the Superior Court of Wake County for entry of order directing the State Board of Elections to disseminate ballots without the name of petitioner Robert F. Kennedy, Jr. appearing as a candidate for President of the United States,” the order said. 

The court’s decision will force the state to miss its Sept. 6 deadline for sending out absentee ballots. The state board has directed county boards of elections not to send out any ballots today and hold them until further notice.

When's the Last Time You Got a Primer on Sauce Tomatoes From a State-Wide Candidate?

 

Love it that a candidate for statewide office takes the time to educate me about "sauce tomatoes," a much more profitable crop for farmers than tobacco but not grown in bulk here because there are no processing plants for them. Sarah Taber just might be the first truly educated Commissioner of Agriculture in our state's history. Let's make that happen!

Why We Fight

 

By Jack Yordy

When COVID hit, I needed friendship and community more than ever. I sought these in the only safe place at the time, online, and I found it. I met people through playing games and common interests, and we formed our own little diverse queer community, my first LGBTQ+ friends. In 2022, when we were all vaccinated and ready to return to life outside of isolation, my online friends and I met in Chicago, and there they became my real friends. (For their privacy, I’ve changed their names.) 

Last weekend, I went to see them for the fifth time. I was picked up from the airport by James. He’s not very politically-oriented, but every time we get together we go to the bar and talk politics. I always look forward to those chats. He’s from California originally, and he used to enjoy hearing about the ridiculousness that goes on in red states. Last year he moved to Florida with his boyfriend, and he confided in me over a drink, “Man, it kind of feels like we’re always under attack now.”

On the second day, when everyone had arrived, we all went to the pool together. Corey was excited to go. He’s transgender and is self conscious about his body, but he’s also one of the bravest and most badass people I’ve known. He doesn’t like to embrace people he doesn’t know well, but he always says to me, “Alright, bring it in buddy!” He gives the best hugs. 

On Monday, I said my goodbyes in one of our hotel rooms. I walked out the door toward the elevators, and Sam yelled through the door, “Jack, no.” He ran down the hall and nearly tackled me. Half jokingly, he said, “Don’t leave, bro! When will I get to see you again?” Sam is the most carefree, hilarious, playful dude you’ll ever meet, but if you asked him what he wants to do with his life, he’d tell you he wants to raise kids with his future husband and spend time with his family and friends. I held onto him for a few extra moments before I had to go. 

On the flight home, I thought about what I’d do when I returned to school and work. I remembered the election. I remembered Project 2025, the rise of the far right, and the hateful, genocidal rhetoric being thrown at trans people. I remembered what James said about feeling unsafe and attacked. I remembered that Corey, who needs to take testosterone for the rest of his life, lives in a state where gender-affirming care for adults is at risk of being banned. I remembered Sam’s gentleness. The sadness I felt from leaving them dissipated into determination. 

That weekend was not just a fun vacation with friends. For me, it was a reminder of just how important the work I’m doing is, how important this election is. It’s the difference between enjoying my time with my friends and helping them prepare escape plans in case things go bad, putting together lists of essentials and making sure there’s somewhere for them to stay in a nearby blue state. It’s the difference between worrying about what games we’re going to play next week and worrying that they can’t get the healthcare they need. It’s the difference between missing them because I love them and missing them because they’re dead.

In Donald Trump’s America we are not welcome. James can’t feel safe with his boyfriend in their new home. Corey can’t get the life-saving healthcare he needs. Sam can’t have the life he wants. That’s why I fight. I want to feel safe, I want to be safe, I want to live happily, and I want that for my friends too. Fight with us. 

Jack Yordy is deputy operations director for the Watauga County Democratic Party and president of the AppState College Democrats.

A Half-Million Dollar Kegger in Chapel Hill

 

The last thing any university president should want is an apolitical campus.

--Michael S. Roth, president of Wesleyan College

I believe the last thing President Roth will get this fall is an apolitical campus. You need to be careful what you wish for. The confrontation between young people who see the state of Israel as murderous jingoists beating down people of color and others who blame every bad thing in the Middle East on the Palestinians themselves, whether they've taken up arms with Hamas or not -- that is an unwinnable pissing contest that has roiled many university campuses (to Virginia Foxx's great delight, since she's nothing if she's not an opportunist for easy targets).

The confrontation on UNC-Chapel Hill's campus on Tuesday, April 30th, between pro-Palestinian demonstrators who took down the American flag and mainly a group of frat boys trying to keep the flag up off the ground caused me to feel several things simultaneously. I resent the implication that patriotism is on the face of it genocidal or racist or anti-human or imperialistic. Granted, patriotism in the hands of an authoritarian despot can be twisted into all those adjectives, but taking down the American flag and replacing it with a Palestinian one is not a good look for a protest movement that wants to highlight the suffering of millions and push back against a militaristic government that knows no restraint. On the other hand, the elevation of a symbol over human beings strikes me as a peculiar kind of idolatry. Didn't the Golden Calf teach us anything? I don't much cotton to people turning my flag into a personal cult image covering a whole smorgasbord of cultural grievances.

The frat boys at Chapel Hill naturally got instantly famous with the Fox News universe and got themselves invited to and celebrated at the Republican National Convention for the patriotism that the Right insists is the only patriotism that counts, and if you don't agree you're clearly an enemy of the people. The frat boys received the blessing of Donald Trump. And soon after that, a conservative operative began a GoFundMe page for the frat boys, hoping to raise $15,000 for what the organizer called a reward for upstanding behavior, a beer party. Instead of $15,000, the GoFundMe site raised a half million dollars.

So yesterday they actually held that "rager" at the American Legion in Chapel Hill, an invitation only, beer-soaked "triumph of the bro-hemians" and a showcase for Lee Greenwood ("God Bless the USA," which established that Republicans owned patriotism and no one else need apply) and other mainly country musical acts. They called it "Flagstock 2024." Blowing that kind of money on Labor Day was a sufficient kind of desecration in itself.

"Invitation only." You heard that, right? 

All of the university’s fraternities and sororities, as well as the campus ROTC, were invited to the event, with 10 “core” fraternities that had members at the flagpole on April 30 invited to be VIP guests. A June update to the GoFundMe originally identified six fraternities as part of that group: Pi Kappa Phi, Alpha Epsilon Pi, Delta Upsilon, Delta Kappa Epsilon, Phi Gamma Delta and Zeta Beta Tau.

A dissenting voice came from Brendan Rosenblum, a member of Jewish fraternity Alpha Epsilon Pi, who was among the frat boys who held the flag up in April. Rosenblum, who did not attend "Flagstock 2024," told the News&Observer that he "views the event and the rhetoric that has surrounded it in a more somber way. While others may view the pro-Palestinian protesters as “a mob” ... Rosenblum sees them as his fellow students, and views the events of April 30 as a failure from multiple groups to foster civil discourse about the war in Gaza." “I think we were there that day to try to, you know, represent our beliefs,” Rosenblum said. “But also, everyone was there because they cared about an issue, and whether or not I agree with them, it doesn’t matter.”

Rosenblum captures what the spirit of a university education is supposed to embody, an attempt to inhabit other viewpoints with understanding and a modicum of sympathy. That is the sort of "politics" I think the Wesleyan president was talking about.

Gimme Sugar

 

A month or so ago I was sunk. A disabling mood of impending doom had stalked me all year. I took a 6-week camping tour of the West in April/May, giving me a valid excuse for posting little here and thinking not at all about the Democrat Party's odds, more to the point, odds on a successful return to absolute power of an unmoored parade float making it back to the White House. My growing apprehension that Joe Biden had indeed become too old to win -- by July, it was a disabling condition, not just for shut-in, on-line political hobbyists but for Democratic operatives on the ground, the mainly young ones organizing others for door-knocking, voter registration, and phone-banking. By July, everybody was down. Political organizing seemed more like a death-march. Few of the experienced expected a miracle.

Then don't you know a freaking miracle took place. July 21st, precisely 7 weeks ago, Joe stepped aside on a Sunday. I watch little TV but had NPR playing. The news had not yet reached national radio when I got the call from a friend saying "Biden is dropping out right now." And my personal miracle at that moment matched the same miracles felt by many others -- the 2,000-lb. elephant got off my chest. 

Then came in rapid succession Biden's endorsement of Kamala, the naming of Tim Walz, the successful Nat'l Convention -- a political high ever since. Those massive rallies. The flood of new volunteers. The cash money raised to fight like hell and not go back. 

"Sugar high!" That's how true cynics dismiss this moment, scoff at any sine-wave of enthusiasm that starts peaking. "It won't last." Michelle Goldberg did a test herownself at the Harris-Walz rally in Atlanta, and came away convinced that this Blue fever has staying power. So, when mythical people wag their index finger at me and warn "Sugar high!"my answer is "Yeah, you bet! And give me more of it." What a stupid thing to worry about.

RFK Jr., Hot and Cold

 

Robert F. Kennedy Jr. has been keeping a lot of lawyers employed in North Carolina.

In July, the NC State Board of Elections (SBOE) voted to place the We the People Party, RFK Jr.'s political vehicle, on the North Carolina ballot. The state Democratic Party promptly sued to kick We the People off the ballot, and RFK Jr.'s lawyers successfully turned aside that challenge in Wake Superior Court on August 12th. Safely on the NC ballot, and destined to remain there as it turns out, despite RFK Jr.'s changeable mind (though this tale isn't quite told yet in its entirety).

On August 23rd, Kennedy suspended his campaign and endorsed Trump (who's apparently promised to put anti-vaxxer Kennedy in charge of medical policies for the nation), but the We the People Party didn't think to formally request Kennedy's removal from the North Carolina ballot until earlier this week. When the SBOE met on Thursday -- 3 days ago -- to consider the removal request, some 1.73 million ballots had already been printed in 60 counties of the state, because under state statute absentee ballots must begin going out in the mail by September 6th, next Friday. The SBOE voted 3-2 along party lines to keep Kennedy on the ballot. The Republican Board members, carrying water for Trump, argued that the statute requiring mailed ballots by September 6th could be delayed. And damn the cost of reprinting 1.73 million new ballots!

Yesterday, RFK Jr.'s lawyers were back in Wake Superior Court suing the SBOE to do what the two Republican board members had wanted -- ignore the statute, reprint the ballots, forget Kennedy's name was ever there, like a disquieting dream that never happened.

Don't know how the Wake Superior Court judge can possibly rule in his favor.