I watched the sun set on my top porch on a comfortable summer evening in Buffalo. Suddenly, I heard a commotion; soon after I became short of breath. The smell of pepper burned my throat and eyes. I quickly ran inside, shut the door, and instructed my sons to close all the windows. I sat them in the living room and spoke with them candidly as I always do before I participate in any civil disobedience. Who to call, what to do, what to expect etc. 


As I turned the corner I could see Buffalo Police in full tactical gear unleashing a flurry of what I assumed to be pepper spray on protestors. The protest had been forcibly redirected from downtown and redirected into a residential neighborhood where people could be easily contained and assaulted. What began as a peaceful protest had now become a riot. I watched the windows of local businesses being smashed by teens whose frustration had now become a rage against a system they felt powerless to change. 


That night I organized a call with local activists to devise a plan to keep our community safe. It was obvious to us that our mayor and his police force were incapable of doing so. From that moment forward, we held protests. There was a teach-in before each one. We brought in legal observers, medics, and safety marshalls. We brought snacks, water, and first-aid kits. 


Being in community with hundreds of people each day was invigorating. However, the response from the power structure was lackluster. Every reform we demanded was met with a refusal or watered-down version from the administration. Not to mention there had been a long history of police misconduct, shootings, and abuse of power with no accountability. 


It wasn’t long before the “now what” lived in my head. What change would be brought about by all our protesting if we couldn’t turn it into some kind of power? By now I had read Keeanga-Yamahtta Taylor’s “From  to Black Liberation” and had been inspired to maybe, someday, run for office. Then I saw “Knock Down the House.” There were so many inspiring people in that film, but the one who resonated with me the most was Cori Bush. A registered nurse and single mother who was on the frontlines in 2014 after the police murder of 18-year-old Michael Brown in Ferguson, Missouri. I used to call myself an “accidental activist” — I didn’t get involved because I thought I had the answers, but because I cared. 

While I was in the streets of Buffalo in 2020, Cori was in the streets of University City, Missouri. I watched her second race closely. Not only did I see myself in her, but I wondered if I could be like her. That was my answer! Who cared if I was a political newcomer and outsider? We had organized thousands of people from all walks of life into a movement all over the country. I knew that we were going to be fighting an uphill battle, going up against a four-term incumbent. I had also watched the small donor fundraising strategy and held a deep belief that “organized people can defeat organized money.” 


So we set about having regular meetings.  We called these meetings “Sunday Sauce” because we hosted them around dinner on Sunday. My kitchen cabinet was full of mothers, teachers, queer folks, young, old and in-between. There were even non-citizens who couldn’t vote but organized the people in their communities who could in their native tongues. We worked diligently and depended on pro-bono professional services to get us to Primary Day. With the support of national progressive organizations we pulled off the biggest political upset in the history of Buffalo, we WON! We did the impossible and for the first time Buffalo would have a progressive, Black, woman mayor – or so we thought. The next week was a whirlwind of national media and excitement all over the world. 


In one interview I was asked if I identified as a democratic socialist, to which I confidently replied, “Oh, absolutely” — that was the moment the sharks smelled blood in the water. From that moment on, the Democrat incumbent (who we had handily defeated with a true grassroots campaign) colluded with Republicans and even major Trump donors to run a fear and smear campaign to cling on to power for the wealthy and well-connected. There are many stories I can tell about the nightmare the campaign turned into but for now, I want to focus on the positive. Buffalo inspired people from all walks of life and all over the nation to get involved, just like I was inspired by Rep. Bush. 


In the days following my defeat in the general election, the progressives of the Democratic Party continued to wrap their arms around me with calls of encouragement, offers for mentorship, and invitations to stay engaged. One of the consequences of having the courage to buck the system is that it closes many doors that are open to those who are complicit. So for now, in these uncertain times, I will spend my time finding the silver lining.


Rep. Cori Bush is a silver lining. She is the first line of defense for working-class people and the most vulnerable members of our community. Though I won’t be able to cast my vote for her, I will be contributing monthly, organizing phone banks, and heading to Missouri in the days leading up to the primary on August 6th to make sure we keep her in Congress. We need her there because we need people to represent us all, people with a moral compass who will stand up to big money. I may not live in Missouri, but our United States Congress makes decisions that impact all. 


India Walton is registered nurse, activist, senior strategist with RootsAction and the former Democratic nominee for mayor of Buffalo, NY