Perhaps in the interest of space, in this 2021 municipal election cycle it might be more utilitarian to list the people NOT running for mayor than to list all of the people who are. While I’ve often joked about political contests where “Larry, Curley and Moe” all throw their hats into the ring, this time it just may be true. By my last count it’s up to 15, and there’s sure to be more to come.
Which leads me to put forth a political theorem: “The longer a mayor serves in office, the larger the number of citizens who wish to replace them when they leave.” Call it “Frazier’s First Law of Mayoral Elections.”
Now, it could be due to the fact I’ve been writing about politics for over a quarter century, or it could simply be that I’m so damn opinionated. But for some reason many potential candidates seek out my advice, either when deciding if they are going to run, but usually after they’ve made their decision. My advice to them, however, is all the same.
Learn the words (and I DO mean memorize them!) to the Black National Anthem. Seriously.
As the political contenders crowd into black houses of worship seeking votes, candidates’ nights most often start off with the singing of “Lift Every Voice and Sing.” And woe be unto the white candidate who doesn’t know the words. Believe me, the Sisters of the Church will be watching. When candidates don’t know the words, tongues in the congregation immediately begin wagging. Church sisters don’t hold back on rendering their opinions. And if the candidate is black, and still stumbles through the words like they’re chewing bubblegum — that will cause tongues to wag even harder.
Trust me on this. I know what I’m talking about.
So, in the interest of good government, here are the words to James Weldon Johnson’s magnificent anthem:
“Lift every voice and sing
Till earth and heaven ring
Ring with the harmonies of Liberty;
Let our rejoicing rise,
High as the list’ning skies, let it resound loud as the rolling sea
Sing a song full of faith that the dark past has taught us,
Sing a song full of the hope that the present has brought us;
Facing the rising sun of our new day begun,
Let us march on till victory is won.
Stony the road we trod,
Bitter the chast’ning rod,
Felt in the day that hope unborn had died;
Yet with a steady beat,
Have not our weary feet,
Come to the place on witch our fathers sighed?
We have come over a way that with tears has been watered,
We have come, treading our path through the blood of the slaughtered,
Out from the gloomy past, till now we stand at last
Where the white gleam of our star is cast.
God of our weary years,
God of our silent tears,
Thou who has brought us thus far on the way;
Thou who has by thy might,
Led us into the light,
Keep us forever in the path, we pray
Lest our feet stray from the places, our God, where we met thee,
Least our hearts, drunk with the wine of the world, we forget thee,
Shadowed beneath the hand,
May we forever stand,
Tru to our God,
Tru to our native land.”
One doesn’t even have to be a good singer. In fact it makes no difference if said singer can’t carry a tune in a peach basket; that’s not the point. Just sing loud — very loud; and without looking down to read the words written on a piece of paper, or worse, on one’s sleeve.
I can’t guarantee taking this advice will result in victory in the general election for any candidate, but I CAN guarantee that said candidate will be welcomed back into those congregations with wide open arms. That’s jus’ how we black folk roll.
