We are standing on a precipice
We are going through a massive transformational shift right now. From a once-in-a-generation pandemic that has claimed the lives of countless people around the world, to an international uprising demanding racial justice, we are watching history unfold. But with radical transformation comes unavoidably intense growing pains.
In many ways, the world looks like it’s falling apart, which can feel terrifying. Yet at the same time, there is something necessary about breaking down old systems that no longer serve us in order to build something new and supportive for everyone.
Hard as they may be, these are the moments that matter — they reveal the undercurrent of society and shape the future in ways we couldn’t have predicted. They show us who we really are and where our fault lines lie. They ask us to heal and learn to be better. They do not, however, guarantee positive change, they can only point us in that direction, the rest is up to us.
When we started the 2020 legislative session, we had high hopes and a vast vision for how to improve the lives of hardworking Coloradans. Whether it was making health care more affordable or expanding economic opportunity, the road of progress stretched out before us seemingly unobstructed. But fate had different plans, and like the rest of the world, we were thrown into the deep-end of an unforeseen crisis that shook our carefully crafted intentions.
So we had a choice. We could either stand paralyzed — holding fast to our previously held beliefs and refuse to change with our new reality — or we could choose to completely surrender to the magnitude of the moment and step up in an entirely new way.
I believe we chose the latter, and I couldn’t be more proud. In three short weeks, we passed more than 200 bills that address the economic pains caused by the COVID-19 crisis, help families get back on their feet and support small business recovery. Ninety-seven percent of these bills also had bipartisan support, making the 2020 legislative session one of the most unifying to date.
However, our most monumental accomplishment was in response to the ongoing calls for racial justice and police accountability. Senate Bill 217 is the most comprehensive law enforcement reform measure in the country and works to combat the perpetual abuse of power by bad actors in positions of authority.
For years communities of color have been brutalized by police violence and racial profiling. But due to an insidious culture of silence and complacency, cases are ignored — leading to innumerable victims never seeing justice and inhumane methods of apprehension going unchallenged.
This is why the Black Lives Matter movement is so important, not because there is a difference in the intrinsic value of all life, but because there are systems and institutions that in fact treat people’s worth differently. The movement calls attention to what Black people have been implicitly told for centuries — mainly that their lives don’t matter as much as white lives. We see this every time Black community members are murdered while their white assailants walk free, or every time a Black person is arrested for “looking suspicious'” or punished more harshly because of the color of their skin.
It’s an uncomfortable thing to face, especially if you are fortunate enough to not experience racial discrimination. It can bring up a lot of emotions and defenses that pit people against each other. But again, we are faced with a choice. We can choose to feel personally attacked by the conversations around whiteness and racism, or we can let this serve as a wake-up call and challenge ourselves to listen, grow and learn from one another.
As the first Latino president of the Senate, I am familiar with racial discrimination. Even as an Iraq veteran and a sixth-generation Coloradan, I still get told, “go back to where you come from.”
It’s incredibly painful to be treated like an outsider in the only nation you’ve ever known or loved. But I choose to believe that even those that participate in hateful or racist behavior are being victimized by a lie that has been fed to them.
For years the powerful have made it their priority to divide hardworking people in order to monopolize control for themselves. They tell us that immigrants are stealing jobs and are the reason for our economic hardship, that unions are deceptive and cheat us out of our hard-earned paychecks, that universal health care will rob us of choice, and that people of color are criminals and should be feared.
These narratives are meant to distract you with fictitious enemies in order to conceal the true villains. But sadly a lot of people fall for it because, let’s be honest, it’s difficult to believe something different when our media environment caters to self-confirming bias.
So when our world is hit with a global pandemic and we’re given the opportunity to unite under a shared struggle, rather than come together, we find ourselves more divided than ever. In this way, the coronavirus pandemic didn’t just create new problems, it exacerbated old ones. It revealed unstable, unsuitable, and wholly inadequate systems that perpetuate class and racial inequities. It exposed power structures that keep us fractioned and disjointed. It inflamed tensions and aggravated distrust.
But discomfort is a catalyst for growth. Had we not experienced such turmoil, much of our social stagnancy may have continued for decades to come. It’s not until something shakes us loose and forces us to reprioritize our thinking, do we nurture positive change.
That’s why, despite everything going on, I am exceedingly hopeful for our country. I believe we are on a precipice of meaningful growth and healing that will catapult us into a new chapter of American history. But that future is still only possible if we actively choose it — if we intentionally channel our discomfort toward collective betterment.
I believe that we can and that we will.