When I write about possibility and hope, especially for a country that divorces itself from American patriarchy, I do so from the perspective of someone who was raised by a mother who always wanted more for herself, her children, her mentees, her small town, and her nation, and also by a father with an anticolonial mindset who called out all forms of injustice and constantly reminded us to connect current events to history, to equip ourselves with pride and knowledge of the past. I also write from the perspective of someone who is not solely imagining what is possible, but who has seen much of it with my own eyes, as well as from the perspective of understanding how bizarre some propositions can seem to those who have been taught to avoid and fear what they did not grow up with, those who have lived in the ease and comfort of an existence where they and their families have been able to thrive peacefully with little interruption. At the same time, as a mother myself now, especially of Black children, I also know what my mom came to know well: It is ultimately not a choice but a necessity for me to keep pushing and moving for our country to be better. I may have been able to push it to the back of my mind as a teenager, accepting the microaggressions like people saying that in their eyes, I “wasn’t really a Black girl” because I was seen as pretty and smart, but when I look at my kids I cannot sit still either. I understand my parents’ seeming restlessness. My only choice as I watch our country allow all the horrible things we have discussed in this book so far is to say, “Things do not have to be this way,” and fight until they are no longer so.

These are some of the gifts my parents granted me by not allowing me to stay put. For me it is not too soon for our nation to elect an antipatriarchal woman to the highest office, not only because I believe the revolutionary ripple effects of what we know from the data around female leadership, but also because I have seen it in other places around the world. For me it is not a wild prospect to think that all citizens of the United States should have access to healthcare because I believe it is a human right, but also because I have seen it in action before and reaped the benefits of such healthcare systems. For me it is not too ambitious to declare that women should not be dying from preventable issues during pregnancy and childbirth, that they should all have access to midwives and doulas, that their bodies and power should be respected and admired rather than feared, because I believe it is necessary for our collective survival and thriving, and because I have seen it in action before; I even considered having my children abroad. For me it is not a pipe dream to declare that guns should be virtually eradicated from our country so that even our officers do not have to carry firearms to “protect” us, because I believe they lead only to more harm and devastation for all, and also because I have seen it in action abroad, where officers in many nations do not carry guns. For me it is not an impossible hope to fight for a national reconciliation process for past wrongs against groups that have been oppressed and marginalized, through a countrywide education initiative that faces its poor decisions and promises not to repeat them, as well as through reparations, because I believe this is critical to our national healing and because I have seen it in action before. I can declare these visions because of the evidence that already exists from places across the world: “Things do not have to be this way.”

In part 5, I told you about many of the fears I have for my children’s future in the United States. Here in part 6 I have told you about what brings me hope and calms those fears in my mind. I did it this way because while it is tempting to stay stuck where we are with our perils and fears for our children’s futures, either at the forefront of our minds or tucked away in denial, it is imperative that we bravely imagine and work toward the promises of a different country our children will help us to create. In parts 1 through 5, I also identified the different authorities who have done their job in upholding American patriarchy, and in part 6 I have left that commentary for here at the very end. After experiencing our own growth—in realizing our bravery like Assata Shakur, in transforming institutions that influence our collective mindsets like churches, in coming together with others to address our immediate needs and create the realities we seek right in front of us like the Rainbow Coalition, in transforming our national dialogue and policy and taking down the worst American patriarchy has to offer with real consequences—by speaking up and organizing, we realize that we are the ones with authority over our own lives. We are the protagonists. It is our view of our nation that can become our reality. 

Like my parents, I take from my knowledge of the past and can imagine more beyond what’s already in existence. I picture possibilities that do not exist anywhere else, but could in the United States as a result of our richness in difference. The opposite of our current American patriarchy is a United States where humanity and community are at the center of our decisions, and where we achieve an egalitarian democracy for all. Where we each possess the same courage, belief, and unwillingness to stay stuck. Where we all repeat the mantra “Things do not have to be this way,” where we become resolute that things no longer can continue to be this way, and we do what it takes to ensure that things are never this way again.