Every election cycle, we hear the same refrain.
“I’m sitting this one out.”
“Both parties are the same.”
“They haven’t earned my vote.”
Lately, I’ve heard another variation.
“James Talarico hasn’t done enough for Black people.”
Whether you’re talking about James Talarico or any other Democrat asking for Black support, the frustration is real. Black Texans have every right to demand more than campaign visits during election season, carefully rehearsed speeches at Black churches, and promises that somehow expire shortly after Election Day. Recent commentary has questioned whether Talarico has meaningfully connected with Black voters, underscoring broader frustration with Democratic outreach.
But frustration and strategy are not the same thing. There is a dangerous difference between holding politicians accountable and surrendering your own leverage.
We have mistaken voting for a Valentine
Somewhere along the way, we’ve started treating elections like dating. We’re waiting for a candidate who checks every box. Someone who perfectly reflects our values. Someone who never disappoints us. Someone who excites us.
That person doesn’t exist.
Politics has never been about finding a soulmate. It’s about exercising power. Our grandparents understood this instinctively. Many of them risked their jobs, endured beatings, faced intimidation, and in some cases gave their lives simply to gain access to the ballot box. They weren’t voting because none of the candidates inspired them. They voted because they understood something we seem to be forgetting. Power rarely arrives wrapped in perfection. More often, it arrives disguised as damage control.
Policies outlive politicians
Here’s the uncomfortable truth. Politicians come and go, but policies linger. Bureaucracies linger even longer. The question isn’t whether one politician will save Black Texas. The question is what happens after Election Day if the policies affecting our communities remain unchecked.
Everything from public education funding to voting rights to higher education access to civil rights enforcement, and economic opportunity, is all at risk. These are not abstract talking points. They determine whether schools stay open, whether neighborhoods receive resources, whether students can afford college, and whether discrimination complaints receive meaningful attention. Choosing to vote against one person (or gasp, not vote at all) because someone doesn’t align with you on ONE issue, but does on TEN others, is where so many of us are getting it wrong. Now, I’m not saying go against your convictions, but there comes a time when we have to remember the non-perfect candidate. I know several voters who refused to vote for Hillary Clinton because she was pro-choice. So they voted for the other side – and cried as every other right they supported was dismantled. If that’s you, and you say I’m willing to endure 300-thousand Black women losing their jobs, our history being erased, my kids having less rights than our grandparents – then, by all means, stand on your conviction. But sometimes we have to weigh the greater good against single issues.
Reasonable people can debate whether a politician’s record is sufficient. That’s democracy. But refusing to participate because no candidate meets every expectation is a calculation entirely different.
Protest votes feel good. Consequences don’t.
There is an undeniable satisfaction in withholding support. It feels like sending a message. Sometimes it is. The problem is that elections don’t count messages. They count votes. And after the votes are counted, someone governs. Think of all the people who wrote in Harambe in the Trump-Clinton election. They sent a message, right? And what did we get from that message?
Protest votes happen. Then laws still get passed, budgets still get written, judges still get appointed, school boards still make decisions, universities still receive or lose funding, and voting rights are still protected or weakened. The machinery of government doesn’t pause while we make a point.
Accountability doesn’t end at the ballot box
Here’s where I think we sometimes let ourselves off too easily. Too many people believe civic engagement begins and ends on Election Day. It doesn’t. If you vote for someone, that isn’t the end of accountability. It’s the beginning. Call their office. Show up at town halls, organize, write, protest, demand meetings, and hold them accountable every single day they occupy the office you helped fill.
Our ancestors didn’t march so we could vote once every few years and disappear. They fought so we’d have ongoing influence over the decisions shaping our communities.
The real question
I’m not asking anyone to idolize any politicians asking for our vote. I’m not asking anyone to ignore legitimate criticism of Democratic leaders.
Frankly, Democrats have often taken Black voters for granted, assuming loyalty without consistently earning trust. That criticism deserves to be heard.
But here’s the question I keep coming back to: If public schools continue to lose ground…If access to higher education becomes more difficult…If voting rights continue to narrow…If civil rights protections weaken…Will history remember that we made a powerful statement by staying home? Or will it remember that we voluntarily surrendered one of the few tools previous generations fought, bled, and died for us to possess?
Black Texans have never had the luxury of disengagement. Every generation before us understood that voting was rarely about choosing perfection. It was about protecting the possibility.
Because in politics, as in life, refusing to choose is often a choice itself.
And someone else is always willing to make that choice for you.
