biting down | {85th debate - emberstatt v. vang}

When the moderator turns to Melora and asks the same question, it takes a good portion of her self-control not to explode at Kieran on the spot. The most glib non-answer that boy could've possibly given, she mentally scoffs. He's more like a Capitolite politician than any sort of District Ten folk.

She breathes quietly and slowly a few times, well out of range of her microphone, taking the momentary pause to gather up all her anger and press it tightly inwards. It was still difficult, for all of Ayaan's often moderating influence, for Melora not to let others get under her skin so easily. For her to will the flames of anger into an asset that would go where she most needed it to.

"I empathize with your loss, Mr. Emberstatt," she finally begins. "I've lost many loved ones over the years to illness, accidents, and yes, even the Games - and I very much thank the communities that have supported me through that grief." Communities that were rapidly running out of energy to care for each other, against the enormous strain the lockdown and recent upheavals had put on just about everyone she knew. Her most recent bouts of mourning had taken place entirely in private, in a cramped little bedroom after the kids had all gone to sleep, with no one but her wife to bear witness to her shaking shoulders and murmured confessions of inadequacy.

"The hardship I want to address is still ongoing - the systemic poverty and discrimination that my community, and many others along the outskirts of Ten, continue to face." A few whispers ripple through the crowd. No doubt, they'd rather hear a story of her rising above it and succeeding in spite of all odds. No doubt, that's how they'd speak of her if she wound up in the Mayor's seat. It was the sort of narrative that made the town-folk feel good, to pretend a single exception meant that all was right with the world and that the ugly history of the district had stayed in the past, and not wormed its way into the present like cow muck sticking to their shoes.

(She remembers being horrified as a child, the first time she learns that most of her classmates didn't take off their boots in their houses.)

"It's a lot more than being able to pay your bills, or afford food, because trying to meet those takes up every aspect of our lives. It's destroying our bodies through overwork and malnutrition, and not seeing a doctor when it starts to fail because we know we're just wasting good money to get answers we can't afford to follow. It's being told all citizens must be home by sundown because of events from two districts over, when the short winter days meant we worked past dark or our kids don't get fed. It's being judged by folks who will blame everything from our cultures to our supposed 'inherent irresponsibility' for why we stay in poverty - everything except the judgments themselves that stamp a destiny on our names before we can get a fair chance."

"So how am I 'getting through' all that, as you insist on asking? By running for Mayor." Her answer is simple, almost downplaying all the times the campaign had grated at her and made her question herself. Not two days after her speech she'd stumbled across a cartoon papered in the town square showing her with slitted eyes and sallow skin, her wife beside her drawn with almost chimpanzee-like proportions. The next day, on her way to meet up with Orcus, she'd overheard Mr. Fairbairn going on to one of the town landlords about how District Ten needed a 'real man to run the show'. All these were little things, of course, but they were numerous and endless, a constant trickle that reminds her each day of what she's working for, and how far she still has to go.

"District Ten needs someone prepared to tackle inequality in all its forms." Someone other than the three white men running against her, she thinks to herself. "To reach out a hand in understanding, so we can work to undo the systems that perpetuate poverty and racism. I stand in solidarity with my brothers and sisters of the outskirts; their hardships are mine, as mine are theirs, and I will not stop fighting for them until everyone in our district has the same opportunities to succeed."