Last week, Tennessee state Representatives Justin Pearson and Justin Jones were expelled by the Republican-dominated legislature for “knowingly and intentionally bringing disorder and dishonor” to the House. A third representative, Gloria Johnson, narrowly escaped expulsion by a single vote.
They were accused of breaching House decorum by joining a protest in the House gallery demanding the legislature pass gun safety legislation while still on the House floor. For this, the Speaker of the House, Cameron Sexton, said the three engaged in an act of “insurrection” equal to or worse than January 6.
In the aftermath of this stunning abuse of power, because I’m a former Speaker of the Colorado House I was asked if I would have done things differently. The short answer is yes. A functioning democratic process requires transparency, respect for democratic norms, and a healthy fear of being corrupted by power. There is a reason Abraham Lincoln once said, “Nearly all men can stand adversity, but if you want to test a man’s character, give him power.”
However, this column is not about the anti-democratic actions of the Republican-led Tennessee House of Representatives in expelling Representatives Pearson and Jones, although I could write an entire treatise on that alone.
Instead, the words of Rep. Gloria Johnson to the media after she was spared expulsion deserve some attention. Johnson is a white woman while both Pearson and Jones are Black men. When asked why she was not expelled she responded, “It might have to do with the color of our skin.”
Johnson was not alone in recognizing that coincidence. In fact, many in the Black community did not view this disparity as a coincidence at all. Shortly after the final expulsion vote, a college classmate who lives in Tennessee texted me “This is some BS. Jim Crow!”
I’ll spare you my colorful response, but our brief text exchange points to a fundamental understanding most Black Americans have about our existence in America. Our voices and experiences are constantly at risk of being silenced if we step out of line if we go beyond what is considered acceptable behavior.
The silencing of Black voices refers to the inability of Black folks to fully and authentically participate in American life without fear of marginalization, censorship, criticism, and violence. This fear we experience is grounded in the very real history of Black voices being silenced in America at the hands of racism and discrimination.
Pearson, Jones, and Johnson were keenly aware of this history on the day of the expulsion vote. The late Congressman John Lewis began his long history of civil rights activism leading sit-ins with other Black college students, which eventually led to the desegregation of some Nashville businesses in May 1960. I’m certain they were aware that Fannie Lou Hamer had her life threatened for daring to register Black voters in Sunflower County, Mississippi. No doubt they understood Colin Kaepernick’s NFL career was prematurely ended when he dared to take a knee during the national anthem. In fact, earlier this year, Justin Pearson was criticized by a Republican colleague for wearing a dashiki on the House floor in tribute to his ancestors. Pearson was told he lacked decorum.
If you’re reading this and you doubt my words, I encourage you to ask your Black friends if it’s ever been implied that they are uppity or told they are not a good fit. The CROWN Act was adopted in Colorado and other states because hair discrimination against Black women is an actual thing. If, like Congresswoman Lauren Boebert on the Rubin Report this past week, you believe teaching about oppression leads to “mental health crises,” you might be participating in the silencing of Black voices.
It’s important to understand the silencing of Pearson and Jones has and did not happen in a historical vacuum. From Bill Clinton’s legitimization of Ronald Reagan’s racist “welfare queen” trope with the signing of the Personal Responsibility and Work Opportunity Reconciliation Act of 1996 to the unfair attacks on basketball star Angel Reese’s behavior, our nation routinely silences “unacceptable” Black voices through word and deed. We are made to be strangers in a strange land.
The expulsion of Pearson and Jones gives renewed vigor to Black feminist writer Layla Saad’s words, “I’m tired of defending my humanity. I’m tired of debating the truth of my lived experiences…So damn tired.”
Terrance Carroll is a former speaker of the Colorado House. The first and only African American to ever hold that position in Colorado. He is a Baptist preacher, attorney, and former police officer. He is on Twitter @speakercarroll.
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