Transcript of Black Voters and the Democratic Party: One Family’s Story

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Look for the headlines wherever you get your podcasts. From the New York Times, I'm Sabrina Tavernisi, and this is The Daily. For decades, Black Americans formed the backbone of the Democratic Party, voting by overwhelming margins for Democratic candidates. And while a majority of Black voters are expected to enthusiastically cast their ballots for Kamala Harris, polls suggest that support for her might be softening, particularly among Black men. The stakes of that dynamic are highest in the swing state of Georgia, where in 2020, Black voters helped flip the state blue for the first time in decades, and where this time, Harris will need strong Black turnout to win the state, and with it, potentially, the presidency. Today, I travel to Georgia with Daily producers Lindsay Garrison and Sydney Harper to speak with one family whose experiences through the decades the story of the relationship between Black Americans and the Democratic Party, and why some are beginning to question that relationship. It's Thursday, October 31st. A few weeks ago, we drove down to the southwest corner of Georgia, toward the city of Albany. It's a majority Black city, and many families have lived there for generations. Lindsay Garrison is going to tell the first half of the story.

For Irma Wilburn, before there was politics, there was segregation. She was born in 1948 in Fitzgerald, Georgia, a small town not too far from Albany. Her family worked for low wages harvesting tobacco and collecting resin from trees to make turpentine and picking cotton.

Cotton? Oh, God. I picked cotton from the time I was able to walk good. They would make little flower sacs for little kids. Like, yeah, we started I started doing that at a very early age, as soon as you knew what to pick.

Irma is 76 now. She has warm eyes and a sharp memory. One of her earliest ones is remembering how first thing in the morning, a white man would drive up in his pickup truck, and Irma and her family would pile into the back to begin the day's work in the fields.

But as a child, my parents didn't talk about racism or bad-mouth white folk. Our relationship was basically just working for them.

When Irma was little, the world she lived in was the Jim Crow South. That meant segregation in places like schools, stores, and it meant many Black people, more weren't allowed to vote.

At that young age, I didn't question it. It was never a subject in the house. If the adults talked about it, they only talked about it to themselves. But you know, I guess there was an element of fear, too. I think they really tried to protect us because they never would tell stories of the things that would happen to them. So we never had to focus on that. All we had to focus on was school, church, and family. That was our life. And then when the Civil Rights Movement came to town, Black people were waking up real quick.

When Irma was a teenager in the summer of 1964, she remembers her aunt Mary coming home from college and telling her and the other nieces and nephews that it was time to change things.

I mean, she came directly to us.

It was time to fight for their rights.

You got swept up because you were her nieces and nephews. She needed bodies out there, so we went.

With aunt Mary as the ringleader, they spent the summer going to marches, sit-ins.

They threw one of those Molotov cocktail bums into the house.

It was a violent time.

We sat in jail saying freedom songs.

She was arrested while trying to desegregate the public library.

And he points the gun.

One time, she thought she was going to get shot. He's shaking. She and some kids were sitting on some steps outside when the newspaper delivery man, who was white, pulled up and pointed a gun at them.

This man is so enraged that he's willing to kill because of integration. But it kept waking people up. It kept adding to the battle cry.

And it woke Irma up, too.

At 15, I didn't fully understand the importance of voting, but I understood how important it was enough that they didn't want us to. When you really understood it, that's one of the most important things of being a citizen is to have that right.

And finally, Irma heard the news that President Lyndon B. Johnson was about to sign the Voting Rights Act, a law that would put an end to racial discrimination in voting.

Everybody was so excited. All of these were stick workers. He's going to sign the bill. We got to go out. And it was urgent to start getting people to come and register.

So that day, she and another activist named Steve went around, trying to register people to vote. She says they found some people sitting on a porch of a house. It was owned by a white man who they also worked for.

They were uneducated. The kids did not go to school. They were raised to work for him.

Irma wanted to tell them, You don't have to read or write. You can still register to vote. But she noticed how hesitant they seemed.

They wouldn't even look up at us. They kept their head down, and I kept trying to talk to them.

She saw one of them keep looking off to the side, and so she followed his gaze. The White man they worked for was standing outside. With a shotgun like this. With a shotgun in his hands. That's when he addressed Irma and Steve using a racial slur.

He said, He's my nigger. Tears just like that. My head started pounding. The blood rushed up so fast. All I could feel was Steve tugging me, trying to, let's go, let's go. It's just like I hit a blind spot, and he was just dragged, literally dragged. I don't know what I was going to do. It just hit me so hard that this Joker thought he still owned people, and I was livid. I never could have imagined, but it made me very determined to keep fighting.

Today is a triumph for freedom as huge as any victory that's ever been won on any battlefield. Yet to seize the meaning of this day, we must recall darker times. Three and a half centuries ago.

Do you remember learning about the news that the Voting Rights Act had passed? What was that like?

It was like winning the football game. These jokers that just pissed me off to no end, we won.

Because of the act that you have passed that I will sign today.

Did you feel like you were part of that achievement for Black Americans the country?

Yeah. Because we had been out working and putting my life at risk, that was one of the important parts of that, what we were asking for. So yes, really happy that it happened. Yeah, an achievement. Yeah.

Irma and her family helped change the country for millions of Black Americans. They had momentum behind them, and they wanted to use it to get more change. And in the '70s in Albany, that's what they did.

We had to get to the table.

And the way to get to the table was through the Democratic Party. Was everyone a Democrat? Was everyone behind it? Of course. What was that like?

I can't imagine anybody being a Republican in our family.

For Irma and so many around her, the Democratic Party had become completely fused together with what they felt they'd accomplished and what they wanted to accomplish through politics, like voting and desegregation. Lbj was a Democrat and had worked closely with Martin Luther King Jr. And all the white activists who joined in the civil rights movement were also Democrats. So being part of the Democratic Party was a given.

It was just like sweet tea in the south as opposed to unsweet tea.

Democratic Party is the sweet tea.

Oh, yeah.

So they started organizing. By this at the point, Irma's aunt Mary had become the first female Black attorney in Albany. She had a yellow law office in the bustling Black business district in the city. The whole family would gather there to plan various actions and campaigns. It became a power base, a Black democratic politics in the area. Albany itself was a thriving place at the time. Jobs were easy to come by with several manufacturers opening plants in the city.

We had never seen those salaries. My husband came right out of sharecropping, The city was nicknamed Good Life City, and it really felt like that.

Not only were Black residents getting more economic prosperity, they were getting more political power, too. And once again, Aunt Mary was at the forefront of it all, and she decided to jump into politics herself.

Our job was to get those leaflets out, knock on doors.

So she did the same thing she did in the civil rights movement, recruited her nieces and nephews to help elect her to office. And by this point, many of those nieces and nephews were grown, and now had children of their own.

I'd be marching with them in my belly, one on my hand.

The family had built an army of Democrats.

Democrat all day, all day.

Michael is Irma's oldest son. He was just a small child in the '70s, born into this supercharged Democratic family. And that meant he and his other cousins would campaign for Aunt Mary, too. Oh, yeah.

From the time I was old enough to walk. I mean, all of my cousins, we all did this. We all rode in the back.

Michael said all of his cousins would in the back of a pickup truck.

There'd be some guy, Mr. Somebody, would be driving a truck. I'll make sure you all sit down in the back now because we're about to pull off.

They turned the radio on.

Wjiz 96.3..

Play music.

Ain't no stopping us now.

We're on the move. Shout from the megaphone.

Vote for Mary.

And begin the day's work of door-knocking.

Hello. How are you doing? My name is Michael, and I'm working with Mary Young's campaign. She's running for City Commissioner, and we would like you to come out and vote for Mary Young.

Did your aunt Mary win the election?

Oh, yeah. She did.

In 1975, Mary Young Cummings, along with another Black candidate, became the first Black city commissioners in Albany.

Was your mom proud of you that you were doing this? Were you aware of what your mom thought of all this?

I think so. I think she was proud of us. I don't know that she necessarily felt proud of doing this work because this was such a norm in the family that this is just what you did. We were movement babies, and so it was just a given that we were going to push these ideals forward.

Part of growing up as a movement baby was overhearing his mom, recollecting the stories of the civil rights movement with her brothers and sisters. The stories that were told that Michael would overhear conversations about the violence, the arrests.

The fear being jailed.

But Irma said she would also talk to Michael directly. She wanted him to understand the lesson she learned from that time about the things that mattered most.

We talked a lot about Martin Luther King and nonviolent principles.

After experiencing so much violence herself and then seeing the assassinations of JFK and MLK, she wanted him to understand the importance of peace, a value that MLK and other activists preached. She also wanted him to understand the importance of voting because his own family fought for it.

Did hearing those stories teach you do anything about who you were, who your family was?

Oh, yeah. We're very proud of my family. I feel like it empowered me. It made me feel capable. Made me feel like I was part of a legacy of people who were trying to do good in the world. We felt like heroes, or we came from heroes. And my mom was definitely one of them.

If you look at the footprints, these footprints commemorate the marchers from the Albany movement that marched up here. What's going on, sir?

You doing all right? While in Albany, we met with Demetrius Young, one of Michael's cousins. He was born and raised here, and now serves as a city commissioner.

Well, I just wanted to show them something.

They doing something- He agreed to take us around to show us how Albany has changed since Irma's time. That's the whole story.

So right along here were a lot of historic Black businesses. They used to have restaurants and shops and different things.

The neighborhood that was once busy and electric decades ago has changed.

This was the Ritz Theater. This was the Black Theater.

It looks like there's a plywood over the door.

Yeah, there has been some damage to it.

Now this neighborhood is quiet, full of empty bricks door fronts.

This building right here on this corner, this yellow house, was my mother's old law office.

Oh, no.

Yeah.

Irma's aunt Mary, the Mary who recruited her into the civil rights movement, is Demetrius' mother.

But we can get out right here.

And this was her law office. That place that used to be a hub of Black Democratic politics in Albany.

You would see kids running out of here, playing on the ground, and shooting marbles right here on the thing, and some community meeting going on in the back.

The creamy yellow paint is chipping. The big front porch appears to be caving in. The ornate lattice work is broken.

When were the bars put on the windows, Stentrice?

I want to say that was in the '80s when it got pretty bad during the crack epidemic. Getting broken to every night. It was pretty bad. It was pretty bad at once upon a time.

I think if you grew up around that time, you remember all of a sudden it was hit with a vengeance. We had never seen anything like it.

How fast do you think it took over? How fast was the change?

It felt overnight. It felt like it was devastating.

Michael was a teenager when cracks started flowing into the streets of Albany in the '80s. It would be the first in a long series of devastating events over the following decades. The manufacturing plants that had afforded people a middle-class life started moving out of the city. And that was only made worse by the North American Free Trade Agreement, which was signed into law by President Bill Clinton. Clinton also signed the 94 crime bill. Joe Biden, who was a senator back then, was a big supporter of it. It mandated harsh sentences for low-level drug offenses, worsening incarceration rates for men of color. And then came the housing crash in 2007 and the financial crisis that followed.

People were losing their homes. I was seeing it happen to people that I knew.

Michael was living in Atlanta at the time, but all he saw around him were people struggling. One cousin in Albany was hit particularly hard.

Yeah, they went through it.

They went through a lot. He lost his house.

It happened to three or four other people that I know seem to be really prevalent in this part of the country, and it all seemed to be young black people.

It felt unfair to him that the country was spending so much money on a war in Iraq when the black people around him and in his family were struggling to survive.

No, these were hardworking people. These were people that had jobs.

These were people- He and his family blamed it on President Bush, on Republican policies.

We were all really up tight.

I mean, between- Things felt uncertain, but Then.

I stand before you today to announce my candidacy for President of the United States of America.

Barack Obama ran for President.

Oh, my God. Oh, my God. That was amazing. That made me so excited. I recognize that there is a certain presumptuousness in this, a certain audacity to this announcement. Wow. Yeah. Okay. Wow. This is it. I know that I haven't spent a lot of time learning the ways of Washington, but I've been there long enough to know that the ways of Washington must change. There was no doubt in my mind that under the leadership of Barack Obama, the plight of African Americans would improve.

Was it like Black Americans have been loyal voters of the Democratic Party since the civil rights movement, since your mom's coming of age? Now is the time that these dividends will really pay off. Now is our time.

Oh, you hit that right on the head. That was very much the feeling and the vibe, if you will, amongst my family, amongst my friends. I remember going into the polling place, and I remember all of the black people. And even though they're not talking, you can feel it. Everybody's just like, Oh, wow, this is it. We're getting to do this. And I remember the slightly older black woman, and she's one of the polling workers. I remember her giving me this knowing smile like, All right, baby, go in there and vote. Let's do that. You know what I mean? It's like, Yes, ma'am, let's do this. Yes, we can.

Yes, we can.

America, we have come so far. We have seen so much, but there's so much more to do. So tonight, let us ask ourselves, if our children should live to see the next century, what change will they see? What progress will we have made? This is our chance to answer that call.

This is our moment.

Michael, once he was elected, what were you hoping to see him do? What change were you hoping he would bring?

The heartbreak. The heartbreak. Oh, the heartbreak. Oh, the heartbreak. It was so swift. It It was so swift. Yeah, the balloon popped really quick, and it was like, Oh, well, none of the things I had hoped for were going to happen with this President.

As Obama began his term, Michael felt the policies he was enacting were essentially an extension of the Bush era. Instead of providing relief to people who'd lost their homes during the housing crisis, Obama approved industry bailouts. Michael was in disbelief. He felt people like his cousin needed help, not big businesses. When it came to foreign policy, Michael says Obama acted like the conservative warhacks he'd railed against during the campaign, like when he intervened in Libya and plunged that country even further into chaos. Obama also signed a renewal of the Patriot Act, a Bush-era law that allowed for more government surveillance of American citizens. And finally, when protests erupted in Obama's second term, when a white police officer killed Michael Brown in Ferguson, Missouri, Obama Obama never visited. For a President who campaigned on hope and change, Michael didn't feel much of it at all. In fact, he felt like the party was moving to the right.

It felt like a betrayal. I think by the time Obama was out of office, I felt like the party was no longer the Democratic Party. They weren't Democrats the way I knew Democrats to be. It was disappointing. It was very disappointing that during my lifetime and my generations, we had lost a lot of impact. We had lost the ability to influence that change, that we could get people in office, but that we could not force that change anymore.

I don't know if I expected a whole lot as far as real tangible changes, because that was realistic. But the fact that he made it in, that in itself was the achievement, a victory for the dreamers.

For Michael's mother, Irma, Obama's ascension to the presidency was the ultimate sign of Black progress, that ultimate seat at the table that she and so many others had fought for since the civil rights era. It felt like a crowning achievement of her generation. And for Michael, his presidency also marked a major moment. But it was a moment of such profound disappointment that it led him to question if it achieved anything at all. And in Albany, that same question has left a generation of voters searching for new answers. After the break, Sabrina picks up the rest of the story. I'm Shane Goldmacher. I'm a national political correspondent for the New York Times, covering the 2024 election. I have, off and on for years, covered the role of money in politics, and that means sifting through tens of thousands of line items and campaign reports, looking at who's getting paid, how much they're getting paid, who's donating to these campaigns, who's reserved the most ads on Google, who's this billionaire changing the shape of the race with a single check? Look, the campaign spin. The strategists tell you one thing, the numbers don't really lie, and those numbers help us ask the right questions.

That's what's so special about the New York Times. We get to tap the collective knowledge and wisdom of my colleagues who have expertise in every nook and cranny of this country in this campaign trail to tell you the full story of what's happening in these critical moments in the last few weeks of the election. If this coverage is important to you, you can support it by subscribing to the New York Times at nytimes. Com/subscribe.

Did you all go down to down here to Ray Charles Plaza and all of that? No. Oh, no. Okay. Got to get that in.

Driving around Albany with Demetrius, there's a lot that people are proud of. They have a state-of-the-art civil rights museum that marks the history that was made here. They have an HBCU that's top ranked in the state. But Demetrius told us that after taking all of those hits over the decades, there are neighborhoods that are still struggling, like his own.

But this is South Albany. This is my ward. This is Ward 6.

How would you describe this area, Demetrius, Ward 6?

It's primarily a low-income community, something Some people don't have a lot, but there are still...

A third of people live in poverty, one of the highest rates of any city in Georgia.

They moved a lot of the schools out of this area.

A majority of school children come from homes that qualify for government assistance.

We only got two grocery stores for this entire side of town.

Many neighborhoods don't have any grocery stores where people can buy fresh food.

But we got liquor stores and convenience stores and all bullshit.

Demetrius even had to fight off a liquor store that was set to open in his neighborhood.

Who the hell thought it was a good idea to put a liquor store in the middle of this neighborhood?

When the pandemic hit, Albany had one of the highest per capita death rates in the nation. Most were Black residents.

Where we were literally watching people die every day. Who's dead next?

Demetrius says that some people feel like their only relief from the government lately came during the Donald Trump administration. When stimulus checks were sent out as COVID was crashing the economy. The money was pushed forward by Democrats in Congress, but Trump's name was on the checks, and so many people gave him credit for that relief. That money was meaningful to people. It helped people buy groceries and pay bills.

You didn't have to sweat paying your light bills or paying for medicine, where you got to make those type of choices.

It was right around this time that one of his cousins suggested to the family in a group chat that it might be worth looking at what Republicans had to offer.

That started talking about, We need to be with the Republicans, or We need to talk to the Republicans, and this stuff. I was looking at him like, You know what family you're in? You've lost your mind. And he really took a lot of, excuse my French, he took a lot of shit for it. We'd be in family group chat, and everybody was banging him hard. Are you lost your mind? What are you talking about? Now, I do think there is an amount of alienation that a lot of young black males are feeling because They see a lot of young Black women being elevated. They don't see more or less a space for them within the larger democratic left-leaning machinery. So I see these young Black men with a lot of energy to do things, but they're not being engaged. Because with my cousin, he took a lot of shit from my family instead of everybody asking him why. It was just like everybody- We actually talked to that cousin.

He didn't want to be recorded, but he told us about his life growing up in Georgia. He said his mother struggled with addiction, and so he had to be sent away. His father was incarcerated, and he blamed Democrats for that because they helped pass the 1994 crime bill. To him, that felt like a betrayal. He started looking more at the Republican Party. He said he liked its conservative values. He liked the way the party talked about traditional families and keeping families together. Ready? We're reporters from the New York Times. My name is Sabrina. Walking around Albany, we heard this from other people, too. This openness to Republicans and to Donald Trump. Sorry, we're interrupting your haircut. We went into some barbershops and spoke to the men there.

I feel like, okay, boom. Yes, he's got locked up in all this, but he's still running for President.

We talked to a young man who'd been incarcerated, and he told us since Trump also has a felony, if he wins, it could maybe change the conversation around people with criminal records.

He's going to be our President. And you all mean to tell me I'm a felon, I can't get a job? What the hell? That's what I feel like.

Does that give you hope?

I mean- That you felt like to be a President? Yeah, it can give hope because it should give hope because, okay, this feeling he's a President, bro. You can go do it. You feel me? Anybody can get a job. I was the Coupetire when it never closed.

Oh, the tire company.

I already retired two years ago.

We talked to another man who'd lost his job at a tire factory. He said he was two years from retirement when it closed down. Now he's cutting hair for less money, and he doesn't know when he's going to be able to retire. Do you think that Trump will help?

Yeah, yeah, yeah.

Really about the economy. In our reporting, we called dozens of Black men across Georgia and heard story after story like this of people who are frustrated with their prospects right now, especially their place in the economy. This is an issue where, according to polls, voters tend to prefer Trump. Some men we talked to had different reasons.

Has there ever been a woman president? No. In America?

No.

That's what's going to scare me. That's scary.

They said they didn't think a woman could be president.

But I'm talking about the worst circumstances. I don't know. If we get into I don't know if she's going to be able to put down force and be firm or like, as a male would do.

But you're worried that maybe she can't, and that's why you wouldn't vote for her.

I mean, I'm not... Well, basically, yeah, I have my dollars. What do I want to do?

What do you make Demetrius of young Black voters who are voting for Trump?

But in talking to Demetrius about this, he says he isn't very concerned.

I just don't think that's a real thing.

He's skeptical that the men who like Trump will actually turn out to vote for him. He says there's always been a small contingent of Black voters who are open to Republicans. Instead of focusing on that, he says there's a deeper question the Democratic Party needs to be asking itself right now.

To me, what is more of a pointed question is why Kamala is not, I guess, inspiring the same excitement from young people that Obama did. I think there's a lot of reasons for that. If you're not getting something, because a lot of folks feel they're not getting anything from the Democratic Party. Some folks feel like they didn't get anything from Obama. I'm not talking about tangible stuff.

But Do you understand why they think that?

I think that's because they saw it. That's what they see. That's what they see. You go through eight years of a black mayor, eight years of a black female mayor. Obama face change. The representation of change. And the south side of Albany is still looking the same. That's what they grew up under.

What Demetrius is pointing to is that for some people here, representation hasn't necessarily translated into meaningful change. Younger generations grew up with a Black President, and they've seen Black leaders ascend locally here, too. Albany elected its first Black Democratic mayor in 2004. A majority of the city commission today is Black. But that representation hasn't done much to solve the deep-rooted problems that people have faced here.

A lot of them, the young folks, politics doesn't work. Government is not going to do anything. That's their reality. And so now they're saying, Okay, that wasn't really changed for me.

What does it feel like to be the person you are, having been in the civil rights movement, fought for the right to vote, Democrat all your life? What does it feel like to see black Americans vote Republican or vote for Trump?

What does it make me feel? It angers me. It angers me because I think they're stupid. I think they're just taking up airspace doing something stupid. Particularly if you're Black, but maybe they didn't have parents or grandparents that taught them anything. So maybe they don't really have a point that they can come from that would make them not vulnerable to a Trump.

For Irma, the choice in this election is very clear.

Why are you voting for Kamala Harris?

Why? I'm going to vote for her because she's a Democrat. I'm going to vote for her because she's a Democrat.

She doesn't understand people who are turning their backs on the party right now, whether it be voting for Trump, staying home, or voting third party.

What does that make you feel, those people who are doing that?

Not voting or voting third party? I don't know that. I think they have a shallow understanding about where we are as a country. I don't think they see the gravity of where we are. If they vote third party, they just throw their way to vote.

What do you think your mom would say, If you didn't vote for Harris, and she found out about it?

She would be disappointed. She might even be angry. She would definitely call me foolish.

Irma's own son, Michael, is feeling conflicted about whether to vote for Harris.

Tough one. I have no idea. I know how much my vote counts in a state like Georgia, where you got a swing state. I know how important it is. But if I had to vote today, I would probably be voting third party. Yeah.

Would it be the first time you didn't vote for a Democrat in a presidential election?

Yes. She doesn't make me feel good. She doesn't.

He has his reasons for not supporting Harris. For one, he says, when she was announced as a Democratic nominee, he was frustrated by how the party went about it.

I felt like we had no choice. We had no say. You either get this or you get crazy orange guy, like we were being held hostage.

But more importantly, he disagrees with a lot of her policies. One example is the US handling of the war in Gaza, which is a conflict he's been watching closely. He didn't like how she shushed pro-Palestinian protesters or bragged about America having the most lethal military in the world. He sees her approach to the war as is essentially an extension of President Biden's approach and the latest example of the party's longer drift, rightward. More broadly, he sees her entire candidacy as more of the same.

Here's some ideas. Here's a child tax credit. Here's some money we're going to invest here to stimulate some jobs. We're going to build some homes. Okay. Other than that, it'll be the same.

When some of his friends reached out asking him to with the Harris campaign, he refused.

I don't want to do any of that. I don't really feel good about this. What are the policies? And that was the wrong question to ask.

He says the conversation got heated.

I got it from a couple of different angles, really quick.

And they accused him of being a misogynist.

I expect a better view. And how could you hate on the sister? She's trying to make change.

His questions around Harris had somehow gotten him lumped in with Trump supporters.

Anti-black woman, not protecting the Black not listening to the Black woman.

Or people who don't think a woman could be President.

That's not true of me because the message is, if you don't vote for Kamala, then you're voting for Trump. If you're not voting for Kamala, then you are voting against me.

Have you talked to them since? No.

I don't plan on it. I'm not holding a grudge. I just need this election to be over. We'll have conversations after the election.

Does your mom know about your reticence over Harris? Have you told her?

I haven't really told her. She knows a little bit. I think she knows that I'm not as excited as she is, and I think her excitement is a little misplaced. Placed. I think she knows that about me, but I think that's about as far as it goes. I haven't had any real conversation about policies with her.

And why not?

Probably three months. I just don't want to. I don't want to have to argue my points. And I know she would feel disappointed.

Why would she feel disappointed?

I'm someone who has been raised with understanding the importance of voting, with understanding how many people sacrifice for us to have this right to participate in the process. To give that vote away, to use that vote in a way that could possibly hurt a candidate, like Kamala Harris, it goes against what my people have decided, majority of my people have decided that this is what we're doing. For me to vote against Harris would be a little bit of a betrayal. It would be.

At this point, you either have hope or no hope. And if you have no hope, what can I say? I can't give you hope at this point. Because, like I said, you have to see it. You really have to see it.

But you still have hope? Yeah.

I have to have hope.

It felt like in all the conversations we had with Irma and Michael, we were listening to two generations talk past each other about hope and where you find it. For Irma, hope is fused with the Democratic Party, this vessel through which Black people achieve something that had felt almost impossible in her lifetime.

I think I was just very disillusioned with politics in general.

She hears this disillusionment with politics, like Michael is expressing, as a abandonment of that hope. But Michael sees it differently.

I'm wanting more. I'm wanting to see more. I'm wanting to see a lot more. I'm expecting more. As a generation of a recipient of those hard-won victories, we should expect beyond symbolism. We should expect more.

Is that a sign of progress then, to want more?

I would think so. Yes, I would say that that is a sign of progress, that you would want more, that we should expect more in the actual way of wielding that power. It's one thing to have the office. It's another thing to actually use that office for the benefit of people.

Michael's hope is that that disillusionment can eventually spark change.

It seems like from all the conversations we've had with voters, people are looking for that change in different ways. They're voting for Trump, they're voting Republican, they're voting third party, they're not voting at all. Do you think those defections from the Democratic Party are also a sign of progress?

I don't know. That's a good question. I guess in some ways, you could see it as a sign of progress. I guess in some ways that you're saying we want to change some things. We're not able to affect that change within this organization, so we're going to try to start... We're going to engage in a different organization. We're going to move differently. That sounds like the desire to make change.

But in this election, having that hope is a high-stake scamble. It also could lead to Trump winning.

Very easily could lead to Trump winning, and especially in a state like Georgia. That's a tough call. And you want to respect the elders. You want to respect their sacrifices. You don't want to see rights taken away from people. For me, personally, that's a tough call. That's a real tough call. I might not make that decision until I'm literally in the booth.

We'll be right back. Here's what else you should know today. Vice President Kamala Harris tried to distance herself from President Joe Biden after he made muddled remarks that appeared to insult supporters of former President Donald Trump. Biden was responding to remarks made by a comedian who spoke at Trump's rally on Sunday night and referred to Puerto Rico as, A floating island of garbage. In a video call with Hispanic supporters on Tuesday night, Biden tried to denounce that language, but garbled his words, saying, The only garbage I see floating out there is his supporters. The White House later argued that he was describing the racist language as garbage, not Trump supporters. But the remarks went viral and drew intense criticism from the Trump campaign, which tried to tie them to Hillary Clinton, calling some Trump supporters deplorables in 2016. Today's episode was reported by Lindsay Garrison and Sydney Harper, with help from Maya King, Carlos Prieto, and Claire Tennisgetter. It was produced by Lindsay, Sydney, and Carlos, edited by Rachel Quester, with help from Ben Calhoun, Paige Cawet, and MJ Davis Lynn, fact-checked by Susan Lee, contains original music, by Alishaba Itup, Dan Powell, Marion Lozano, Ron Nemistow, and Leah Shaw-Damaran, and was engineered by Chris Wood and Alyssa Moxley.

Our theme music is by Jim Brunberg and Ben Lansberg of WNDYRLE. That's it for The Daily. I'm Sabrina Tavernousi. See you tomorrow.