We started in 2016 as six Black women who refused to accept that Tennessee's political power would never look like the communities it was supposed to represent. Nobody handed us permission. We built it anyway, one registration drive, one organizing meeting, one block at a time.
Three years later, the state tried to stop us. In 2019, Tennessee became the first state to criminalize voter registration drives that didn't follow a new set of technical rules, backed by fines up to $10,000. We sued the same day the governor signed it, and we won.
Four years after that, they tried again. In 2023, the legislature expelled two Black lawmakers for standing with their communities on the House floor. We organized until both were reinstated.
This year, they came back with a redrawn map, eliminating the only majority-Black congressional district in the state, betting that if they couldn't out-organize us, they could redistrict us into irrelevance instead.
Every time, the pattern holds: they change the rules, and we build the power to outlast the change. Not because it's easy. Because a decade in, we've learned this fight was never going to end with one win. It ends with infrastructure strong enough that no single law, no single map, no single legislative session can take it apart.
That infrastructure runs on people like you.