Editorial note: This is a moving account by Jennifer Gonnerman of triumph over trauma in a just minutes-long election night speech by Jumaane Williams, recently elected Public Advocate for New York City. The video does not include his remarks about being in therapy for three years (important for many to hear) so please read Gonnerman's outstanding report. I was moved by the entire account—his demonstrative affection for his mother and sister and his tribute to his fifth-grade teacher, Ms. Nedd, who believed in the young boy who was later diagnosed with A.D.H.D. and Tourette's.
March 12, 2019
In the same week that brought us the spectacle of Michael Cohen testifying before Congress and many of his interrogators peacocking for the cameras, a Brooklyn elected official named Jumaane Williams delivered a rare moment of emotional truth. The scene unfolded on February 26th, at an Election Night party inside a Caribbean-owned lounge in East Flatbush. Williams, who calls himself an “activist-elected official,” has been a member of the New York City Council for nearly a decade. That day, New York City had held a special election for public advocate—an office that acts as a watchdog for residents—and Williams won, defeating sixteen other candidates.
His victory speech started shortly before 11 p.m., and at first it followed the usual script. He thanked his family and girlfriend and campaign staff and supporters. He promised to keep fighting for the causes that have long consumed him, including fixing the “housing-and-homelessness crisis” and battling against “a system of injustice that criminalizes black and brown communities.” After he finished reading his prepared speech, he remained behind the podium, sipping from a water bottle as the crowd chanted his name: “Jumaane! Jumaane!” A camera from the local television station Spectrum News NY1 stayed on him.
Before leaving the stage, he decided to address the crowd one more time. “I want to speak out on this, because it’s important,” he said. “I’ve been in therapy for the past three years.” He paused. “I want to say that publicly. I want to say that to black men who are listening.” He spoke briefly about his struggle to hold on to his sense of self, and then his speech seemed to become even more personal. “I know there’s a young black boy somewhere. . . . He is trying to find his space in the world. Nobody knows he cries himself to sleep sometimes,” he said, and became so overcome with emotion that he had to pause again. “Nobody knows how much he misses his father. Nobody knows what he’s going through. And the world tells you you have to hide it and you can’t talk about it.”
To read the entire article by Jennifer Gonnerman, click here.
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