Tennessee/Pennsylvania/North Carolina: Fifty six years ago, a 39-year-old man stood outside Room 306 in Lorraine Motel. And from the other side of the road, a shot was fired, ending the life of Martin Luther King Jr.
MLK was in Memphis, a town in the Deep South at the intersection of Tennessee, Arkansas and Mississippi that had once been a major slave market, to march with sanitation workers.
Today, the motel has been converted into the National Civil Rights Museum. Being inside the museum is like travelling through five centuries of brutal history — of the Trans Atlantic Slave Trade, of Black labour in cotton and tobacco plantations that made America rich, of the civil war which led to the end of slavery, of Jim Crow laws that saw institutionalised segregation across every sphere, of systematic political disenfranchisement, social exclusion, economic impoverishment and continuous assault on Black bodies and dignity.
It is also like travelling through decades of Black struggle, of the thinkers and warriors who never gave up the dream of equality, of churches and associations and newspapers and historically black colleges that created Black consciousness, of the Gandhian inspiration, of the freedom rides and marches and the speeches that saw Blacks fight for every inch of space in public life and basic human rights. And being next to room 306, where tragedy stuck in 1968 and took away the man who led the movement for civil rights for Blacks, is travelling back to the moment where the community finally, even if partially, won rights, including the right to vote.
But as much as they recognise what happened half a century ago, for Trell, Quinton, Aaron, Chanyra, just a mile away, today’s realities are what matter. And perhaps after all these decades, these four Black men and women who work at a hotel on Beale Street, the street where Elvis and BB King made their name and where budding musicians play blues and rock and country music, may vote for the same party as the white southerners, the party of Donald Trump.
The Trump appeal
“I don’t like either. Kamala (Harris) is fake. Trump talks s*** about everyone who isn’t White or rich. But Trump did give us money,” Trell said, crediting Trump with the stimulus cheques they received (thanks to a Democratic Congress) during Covid. Quinton nodded, “He doesn’t know how to keep his mouth shut but he won’t drag us into foreign wars. And a woman isn’t ready to lead America. Foreign countries won’t take Kamala seriously.”
Chanyra, the only woman in the group disagreed with the gendered assessment but agreed with the politics. “C’mon man, women can lead. But her values don’t align with mine.” And Aaron, the youngest in the group, said, “See, (Joe) Biden and Harris give money to Ukraine but there is no money for hurricane relief. Trump is better for the economy.”
Tennessee is a clear Red state and there is little doubt that its electoral college votes will go to Trump. And these voices aren’t representative of all Black voters, who remain overwhelmingly with Kamala Harris. But they represent a fracture in the Democratic base, a fracture that is striking given that a Black woman is on the top of the ticket, and perhaps indicates a churn in racial voting patterns.
It is a fracture that polls have captured and that prompted Barack Obama to get on to the campaign trail to chide Black men for misogyny. It is a fracture that has led Harris to announce her own agenda for Black men, visit Black churches and go on popular podcasts with wide following among Black men. It is a fracture that Trump is leveraging by pushing claims of how illegal immigration is taking away jobs Blacks do, how economy was better for Blacks under him, and how — and he has said this repeatedly — he is the best president for Blacks since Abraham Lincoln.
It is a fracture that is partially born out of patriarchy, partially out of frustration with Democrats for taking the Black vote for granted, partially for perceived economic reasons, partially due to misinformation, and partially due to the same attraction for Trump’s populism and projection of strength that attracts other young men. And it is a fracture that may matter in a close election with margins as thin as these.
The Harris appeal
But it is not the whole story. The dent is a dent and not the whole. For Black men in swing states and Black women offer a point of view that is different.
In Philadelphia’s Liberty Palace, HT met Kyrah, DJ, Ramireh and Marcus, who worked in a movie theatre as ticket agents and food servers.
For the 20-year-old Kyrah, who was planning to vote for the first time, abortion rights was a defining issue. “My family is Democrat and I would have voted for Harris anyway. But as a woman, abortion is a big issue for me. I also have medical problems and I can’t believe Trump took away my right.” For the 25-year-old DJ, Project 2025 — the Heritage Foundation document that Democrats claim is Trump’s real governance blueprint while Trump insists it is not — is a major issue. “It says they will allow cops to stop and frisk. This will affect Black men like me and Brown men like you,” he told this reporter, adding, “And if they can take away abortion for women, they can also take away men’s rights. They can say you can’t get haircuts next.”
For the 21-year-old Rhamir, Harris’s roots mattered. “It isn’t that she is Black. It is that she came from the middle and lower classes. Trump was born with a silver platter. What does he know about us?” And for the 22-year-old Marcus, the issue was inflation. “His policies will increase prices. He will make things easier for the rich and make us pay more.”
There is a similar sentiment up at University of Pennsylvania, an admittedly liberal bastion. Andrew is a 20-year-old junior from a nearby rural county who said that he didn’t keep up with politics, but largely stayed with his friends from the church and a faith organisation. “But I took a quiz to check which way I lean based on issues such as college tuition fees, health care and tax policies. And it seems I am a Democrat.” Asked if Harris’s race was a factor for him, Andrew said, “No.”
Outside Wharton Business School, Trump’s alma mater, Swynth Rodriguez, a postal worker whose family originally was from Trinidad but which was born and grew up in Philly, was picking the mail. He said that Trump was dangerous. “He can sack me if he wants. Kamala won’t. He abuses all communities that aren’t White. She doesn’t. Trump wants to help the rich. She wants to help everyone, just see her proposal to support home ownership. Trump will be a (Fidel) Castro, he has said he wants to be a dictator, she won’t be one.”
The Black women base
Even as there is a fracture among men, Black women remain overwhelmingly with Harris and that’s visible in both a swing state that Harris is targeting and red states that she won’t win.
In a cafe, close to Rocky Mount, off the highway, Roxie Barns, who worked at Pentagon, and her daughter, Candice Martin, who is currently unemployed, were sitting with Tameka Agee, a hair stylist.
Barns and Martin had already voted, and proudly said they were the 12th and 13th voters in their voting centre and had voted for Democrats up and down the ballot. Explaining her reasons, Martin said, “Harris cares for everyone. He is divisive.” Her mother agreed, “He will just create a mess. And look, the majority isn’t with him. That’s why they try to manipulate elections and suppress votes. And look at what he did with abortion. I don’t believe the government or courts should tell people what to do.” Agee offered her own arguments. “I have a mother who needs health care. The Biden-Harris administration brought down costs. I need health care and Obamacare for pre-existing conditions helps me. Trump will do nothing for people like us”.
Asked if they sensed that men in their community were gravitating to Trump, Agee said, “It is patriarchy. Men don’t want to take orders from women at home, and they don’t want to take orders from women as commander in chief. But in our community, either Black men won’t vote or will vote for Harris. They won’t vote for Trump.”
In North Carolina’s Wilmington, a part of the New Hanover county that went with Trump in 2016 and Biden in 2020, Lotasha, who served in the army reserves and currently worked as a prison correctional officer, said that she hadn’t decided yet and the issue that mattered most to her was security.
“Trump’s delivery is awful. He is arrogant and boastful. That’s not a good thing for a leader. You can’t then strategise carefully. But I like his policies on security and immigration. On the other side, I haven’t seen what Harris has done under Biden and what she can do. She is calm and light hearted but sometimes doesn’t seem serious.”
When this reporter suggested it seemed like she would vote Trump, Lotasha rejected it immediately, “I really feel that you have to be personable as a leader. And he is personable and relatable only to those who are racists.” Lotasha said that she heard from more people, especially in law enforcement, that they were with Trump. “But they are also Caucasian and I feel it is coming from racism because of what Trump says about immigrants. I am not like that.”
Back in Memphis, Teresa, a former FedEx employee — the FedEx headquarters is in the city, and the company, incidentally, is led by an Indian-American — was clear she was with Harris because Trump was a “joke”. In a sentiment that showed how patriarchy wasn’t confined to men, she said, “I think the presidency is a man’s job. But not when the man is a joke like him. The world will laugh at us again if he is president. It has to be Kamala Harris.”
It is in these 15 Black voices, across three states, that one can sense the inevitable political diversity within a large community where gender plays an important but not an all-determining role. It is in these voices and conversations that issues that animate American voters come alive from the economy to race, from immigration to abortion. And it is in these voices where the past and present come together. He may have agreed with many, he may have disagreed with some, but this right to vote and this right to express themselves is what MLK junior fought for and gave up his life for in that balcony at Lorraine Motel.