The Long Battle

See It, Place Yourself Within It, Gear Up

Meet Rhoda Denison Bement.

She was at Seneca Falls. But it’s complicated.

(Some of you have read this story. Some of my many new readers will not have. I’m repeating it now because I think it’s the best way to see the struggle we are in and how we must keep going).

Rhoda Denison Bement was actually a regular parishioner at the Wesleyan Methodist Church, where the historic convention took place. But she was only a member there because, five years earlier, she’d been banished from the Presbyterian church down the street.

At one point, the ferocity of her abolitionist advocacy erupted into a showdown with that church’s pastor, who put her on trial for disorderly and “unchristian” conduct. She was found guilty, banished, and soon joined the church that would host the women’s rights convention a few years later.

“Keep Rowing. Keep Going.”

Now let’s take a moment and look at the long arc of Rhoda Denison Bement’s life, and the lives of her fellow suffragists.

Born in 1806, she was kicked out of that first church in 1843. Only thirty-seven years old, but so fierce about abolishing slavery she was banished from an abolitionist church. Impressive.

The historic convention at her new church home took place in 1848, when she was forty-two years old.

She would then spend the rest of her eighty-two years as both a conductor of the Underground Railroad and an advocate for women’s suffrage. She died in 1888.

The 19th Amendment wasn’t ratified until 1920.

So, Rhoda Denison Bement spent her entire life raising hell for suffrage she would never see, and that America’s women wouldn’t gain for another thirty-two years after her death.

Now think about the generation that followed her in the movement. Consider the teenagers who watched or read about that 1848 convention. Those women would’ve been in their fifties at the time of Bement’s death, and more than likely also did not live to see the 19th Amendment ratified.

Only the next generation of the movement—the teenagers at the time of Bement’s death—would live to see that historic victory in 1920. Most of them, at least. They would have reached their fifties and sixties when they first exercised their right to vote.

Think about that again: Rhoda Denison Bement, her predecessors, peers, and even the generation of women that followed her dedicated entire lifetimes of struggle to join America’s democracy. These would be lifetimes of disappointment, at least in terms of achieving their ultimate goal. Still, they kept fighting. Only the final generation of that movement, building on the foundations of those who’d endeavored and passed away years before, would experience their joint, multi-generational victory.

You may be asking, why do I know so much about Rhoda Denison Bement?

I’ve known about her for decades. You see, I hail from a long, uninterrupted line of fierce feminists. And Rhoda Denison Bement led the way. She was my great-great-great-great-grandmother. One of my nieces is named Rhoda; another’s middle name is Bement.

As proud as we are of that lineage, I know there are countless Americans just like Rhoda Denison Bement, who waged their own struggles for freedom and equality that only future generations would inherit.

Even after the Civil War and abolition—and long after the 13th, 14th, and 15th Amendments—it took generations of similar heroes to overcome horrific violence to cement civil rights protections into our nation’s laws. It took another generation after that to convince leaders and courts to actually enforce those laws. Again, like Bement, entire lifetimes of struggle. Many ending in disappointment, never to see progress. And countless lives cut short violently amid that struggle.

John Lewis was one of the fortunate heroes who lived to witness the fruits of generations of action and sacrifice, including his own. But even when John Lewis passed away, some of those fruits were wilting before his eyes. Things were going the other way.

What’s the lesson from Rhoda Denison Bement’s life and legacy, and so many others like her?

It’s that the battle for democracy is a long one.

It’s not about a single election. Or a single politician. Or even elections alone. It’s not limited to individual lifetimes, or even multiple generations.

And no, it’s not an inevitable arc bending in one positive and inevitable, morally righteous direction. It’s always contested—pushing one way for years, then back the other way for years more. If and how it bends comes down to who’s pushing harder, longer.

(The impression that progress is inevitable, and locked in permanently, without ever sliding back, has been a view only felt by the subset of Americans who grew up after the Civil Rights Era, Voting Rights Act and Warren Court achieved their gains. That is NOT American history. We can never fall prey to that ahistoric illusion again).

It’s a never-ending battle. And it continues today.

Which means we are in that same battle now.

If you subscribe to my newsletter because you’re concerned about the state of our democracy, the most important takeaway is to see that you are in the same struggle Rhoda Denison Bement was in.

That John Lewis was in.

You are a participant in that long struggle for democracy. The never-ending struggle.

(And yes, we find ourselves amid a moment of retrenchment today).

Once you realize that, everything changes.

And it’s time to adjust everything you do accordingly.

And as we enter 2025, after this disturbing and dark election, it’s a critical moment for all who value democracy to understand this reality. To dedicate yourself to engaging in the long battle for democracy. To never stop (because, let’s face it, you really don’t have it within you to quit; I sure don’t). And to take concrete action, wherever you are.

Now, let me be clear, I think we can see gains back in the other direction long before my own grandkids come of age. Or yours.

But that’s only if we keep at it. And resist with energy and wisely. And if we unify.

Rhoda Denison Bement never stopped. Neither did John Lewis. Thank goodness.

We can’t either.

My promise:

In the coming weeks and months, I will share concrete actions everyone can take as part of this long struggle. And I am looking forward to hearing from all of you about concrete actions you suggest we all consider (or are taking effectively) to lift democracy.

Clearly, despite all that so many of you have done, we have work to do. And, we must do better. And work even harder.

The truth is, despite all the passion many of us have and act upon, the intensity and scale of the far right’s assault on our democracy and freedom are still greater than our push back.

The effort to suppress votes in state capitals remains more intense than the grassroots effort to engage voters at the local level (at the very place those votes are being suppressed).

The effort to deliver misinformation with key communities and blocks voters was more intense and savvy than the effort to actually deliver them actual truth and inspiration.

While some stops I made on the campaign trail were full of energy and enthusiasm, other moments I encountered were scarily lackluster. In a number of places, even core Democratic communities appeared hardly engaged.

So…we have work to do. And we must start doing this work in new and different ways. Assess all that worked and all that didn’t.

But be clear, our climb is not nearly as steep or as long as what Rhoda Demison Bement or John Lewis faced. And through endless toil, they bent the curve in the right direction. We inherited the fruits of their work.

For our kids and grandkids—and ourselves—we must do the same.