Dr. LaKeshia N. Myers
By LaKeshia N. Myers
James Brown’s iconic 1969 anthem wasn’t just a song—it was a declaration of self-determination that resonated through the civil rights movement and continues to echo today. When the Godfather belted out those words, he captured the essence of Black America’s struggle: we’re not asking for handouts, we’re demanding access to opportunities we’ve been systematically denied. In 2026, seven Black women running for the United States Senate are embodying that same spirit, ready to kick down doors that have remained stubbornly closed for far too long.
Let’s be clear about the numbers, because they tell a story that should embarrass this nation. In the entire 235-year history of the United States Senate, only five Black women have ever served. Five. Carol Moseley Braun of Illinois broke the barrier in 1993, serving one term before the political establishment showed her the door. Then we waited another twenty-four years until Kamala Harris was elected in 2016. Followed by Harris’ departure to the Vice Presidency, Laphonza Butler served briefly by appointment in 2023. Currently, we have Lisa Blunt Rochester of Delaware and Angela Alsobrooks of Maryland, both of whom were elected in November 2024.
Five Black women out of nearly 2,000 individuals who have served in the Senate. It’s clearly time to make a change.
Enter the Black women candidates of 2026: Rep. Jasmine Crockett (TX), Lt. Governor Juliana Stratton (IL), Rep. Robin Kelly (IL), Rep. Pamela Stevenson (KY), Priscilla Till (MS), Ni’Kyla Jasmine Thomas (OK), and Catherine Fleming Bruce (SC).
The Black women running in 2026 understand the mathematics of exclusion. They know that when James Brown sang about getting it himself, he was talking about the kind of self-reliance born from a system that never intended to include us in the first place. These candidates aren’t waiting for permission or for someone to anoint them worthy. They’re organizing, fundraising, and building coalitions because they recognize what our ancestors knew: freedom isn’t given, it’s taken.
Black women have been the backbone of American democracy, consistently showing up at the polls with the highest voter turnout rates of any demographic. We’ve elected presidents, shifted the balance of power in Congress, and determined the outcomes of critical state and local races. Yet when it comes to holding power ourselves, particularly in the U.S. Senate—that supposedly august deliberative body—we’re told to wait our turn, to be patient, to understand that “now isn’t the right time.”
But here’s what those gatekeepers don’t understand: we’ve been waiting since 1870, when the 15th Amendment was ratified. We’ve been waiting through Jim Crow, through poll taxes and literacy tests, through the systematic disenfranchisement that targeted Black voters for generations. We’ve been waiting while watching others—who neither understand nor care about our communities—make decisions that directly impact our lives, our children, and our futures.
The Senate makes decisions on everything from healthcare and education to criminal justice reform and economic policy. These aren’t abstract debates—they’re decisions about whether our children have access to quality schools, whether our families can afford healthcare, and whether our communities receive fair treatment under the law. Black women’s perspectives, shaped by the unique intersection of race and gender discrimination, are essential to these conversations. Our absence from these spaces isn’t just unfortunate; it’s a democratic crisis.
The seven Black women running in 2026 represent more than individual ambition. They represent communities tired of being overlooked, voices tired of being silenced, and a determination that won’t be denied. They’re running in different states, with different backgrounds and policy priorities, but they share a common understanding: the door isn’t going to open on its own.
James Brown understood that dignity comes from self-determination. These candidates understand it too. They’re not asking for favors or seeking sympathy. They’re building campaigns, earning support, and preparing to serve. They’re living proof that Black women don’t need anyone to give us anything—we just need the obstacles removed so we can claim what we’ve always deserved.
It’s time to open the door. Better yet, it’s time to step aside and watch us kick it down ourselves.