Take Courage [Vasco's Speech]

V A S C O

"Tonight, I’m honored to stand up on this stage in front of people I consider my friends.” I’m behind a podium on a little wooden stage with a spotlight flush on me. We’ve organized a whole event for the speech, with string bands and foil wrapped elote for the curious to sample. It’s a far cry from my speech on a soapbox out in an empty field on the Izar homestead years ago.

“I'm a man raised out on a patch of land by a father who worried about what he was putting on the table for his five boys, and a mother who spent most days teaching us that the only thing that couldn’t be taken away from us was our education. I was lucky enough to be surround by my family and, you might’ve guessed, that meant about thirty or forty people who had my back at any given moment in time.”

“I think about them tonight because of what I promised five years ago, that I’d fight for what you needed. I don’t need to tell you ours is a spirit that when those silos caught fire, we dropped everything to rush toward the flames, not away from them. We asked not, how could this happen, but how can I help?”

“That’s the sort of spirit I’ve fought for these past five years. Whether leading a march for your rights, sitting through a general strike on wages, or opening a college so that our children could learn, I’ve spent every moment trying to build a better tomorrow.”

“We know that the world is a far different place today. And I know you still worry about working out in the hot sun or having a job that’ll feed your sons or daughters at all. Things that no person should ever have to worry about.”

“I used to think that us coming together could get rid of those worries, that a unified district eleven could take away the worst of it. But there’s only so far we can go together.”

“There are forces that’ll tell you that we can’t get better than this; people who’ve seen eighty years of this that our lives are a measure in grief. Well I’m here to tell you that I have felt your grief just as well as anyone, and it doesn’t measure the type of person you are. Whether you meet your moment or fall to it, that’s not a measure of our success. And the fears we have from grief are a reflection of something we must face.” Capitolites that would hold us down to hold onto their power. Those who could sense their hold was dwindling.

“We must face this grief with all of our brothers and sisters. Not farmers versus city folk. Not those from eight versus those from eleven. Not even the upper versus the lower districts.” I think of Pierre's table in eight, or Althea's boat in four. 

“I ask you tonight to support me in a new way forward. I’ve met with mayors in three, four, and eight, and if I’m re-elected, I’ll keep working to bring all the mayors to the table to find a way to make our fight their fight. That unity doesn’t just mean reaching down the road but across districts.”

“And listen to me when I say this: It is the system in which we live that limits our potential. This same system that’s been built to knock us down and keep us down cannot be responsible for our justice.”

“We must reject the idea that only some individuals will ever earn their freedom. We rise, we fall, and we overcome those that hold us back by recognizing even at our most vulnerable, together, we are stronger.”

“I ask for your vote on the promise of a new day. A sunrise in which the light is met with love, and not grief. That bad days aren't life or death, and our good days will be a celebration of purpose. Onward, my friends, to freedom.” I step back from the podium to wave, and to greet the future in front of me.