Last year’s election was a turning point for me—a moment where I truly stepped into my identity as an independent voter. I’ve called myself independent for years, but 2024 was the first time my ballot reflected that reality. No longer tethered to the expectations of red or blue, I entered the voting booth confident, educated, and prepared to vote in alignment with my values and vision for the future.
For years, I had been navigating politics on autopilot—skimming the surface of platforms, leaning on familiarity, and, at times, going along just to get along. But this time, it was different. I researched candidates, studied policies, and reflected on what mattered most—not just for me, but for my community and the generations to come.
I didn’t vote for every race or proposition. At the top of the ticket, I cast a vote that defied partisan norms entirely. When it came to local school boards, state representatives, and city officials, I prioritized candidates whose values aligned with mine—leaders I believed would bring meaningful change. And yes, I showed up for Black women and men running for office. It wasn’t about loyalty to a party; it was about building a future I want to see.
Our ancestors laid blueprints for us—guides shaped by survival and resistance. But we can’t only follow old plans in a new world. This moment demands that we step back, rethink, and rebuild. Historically, Black people have voted on both sides of the aisle. We’ve been strategists, leveraging political power where it made sense. Somewhere along the way, though, we boxed ourselves into a single mode of action: voting.
Voting matters—don’t get me wrong. But politics doesn’t begin and end at the ballot box. Where are our lobbying efforts? Our grassroots organizations holding systems accountable? Our institutions sustaining the progress we fight for? Without these layers, politics can only go so far.
The truth is, before we can "fix" politics, we need to build among ourselves. We need to get our house in order. If our neighborhoods aren’t run by us—if our communities aren’t self-sustaining—then what are we really voting for? A better-managed decline? We deserve more than that. And we won’t achieve it until we start pooling our resources, energy, and collective power strategically.
Over the past few decades, we’ve seen the consequences of burnout—of fighting battles without a clear plan. We need to work smarter, not harder, in our approach. What’s the strategy? Where do we focus? What are we willing to sacrifice for long-term gain?
This isn’t about replicating the past. The figures we quote—our ancestors, our leaders—they didn’t just critique systems, they created new ones. They moved with purpose. And they did so with an understanding of the power of leverage. The question for us today is: What are we creating in this shift?
Here in Detroit, we’re at a crossroads. We’ve got titles, money, connections, and more access, information and data available than ever before—but where is our leverage? What is our power? What are we building that ensures the next generation isn’t fighting the same battles we are today?
It’s not enough to show up for the photo ops, the conventions, and the celebrations. We need to coalesce around agendas that matter. We need to bring something to the table that speaks to the future we want, not just the systems we’ve been handed. And we need to ask ourselves, again and again: What do we value? What do we care about? What are we willing to fight for?
At KenShip, we have ideas. Ideas about how we pool resources, build accountability, and use politics as an enhancement—not a foundation—of the lives we’re creating. Ideas about how we balance self-sustainability with collective power. Ideas that push us beyond quotes and hashtags toward tangible change.
This isn’t just a blog post. It’s a call to action. As Detroit prepares for a mayoral race in 2025 and a governor’s election in 2026, as we continue to navigate this shifting world, I’m inviting all of us to reflect. What’s our true way forward? Where are we leaning in? Where are we building power? And how do we ensure that this shift isn’t just a moment—but a movement?
Let’s talk about it.
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