“Instigator” Isn’t an Insult
The long tradition of of Black women pushing America forward
If you’ve heard the number 92 a lot since the 2024 election, you know it references one demographic of American voters who moved in lockstep around Kamala Harris’s historic run for president: Black women.
“The 92 percent,” as they have been described, are a manifestation of a much longer legacy of civic engagement, protesting, and changemaking by Black women since this country’s inception. Black women had to face the realities of a women’s suffrage movement that didn’t always count them as fellow women or equals, and sexism in their own communities that asked them to prioritize the good of the race by waiting for Black men to get their voting rights before asking for a seat at the table.
Each generation of Black women in America has examples of leaders who refused to accept the political and social status quo, and made a lot of noise in the process. It’s that legacy that a young Atima Omara drew inspiration from as an immigrant child growing up in a mostly white area of Virginia.
Omara, a political strategist, writer, organizer, and progressive advocate, has a name for these women who were not afraid to shake tables: instigators. She’s written a book focused specifically on the youngest of the changemakers, whose instigation she considers essential to democracy.
Omara’s book, The Instigators: How Black Women Have Been Essential to American Democracy (and What We Can Learn from Them), hit shelves this week and breaks down the lessons we all can take from instigators who insist that America live up to her best and highest ideals.
Here is our conversation. It has been edited for length and clarity.
Natasha S. Alford: What is an instigator to you? And why is instigation something that Black women have done well?
Atima Omara: An “instigator” has taken on sort of a negative connotation in the last several years and oftentimes can be weaponized against Black women who are active. To me, just one definition of an instigator is somebody who initiates something for change.
When I looked at all of the women in these stories, from all different walks of life — be they poor, lower income, wealthy and connected, younger in their 20s to their late 30s, early 40s — they all had that energy. They saw something that was wrong. They were tired of seeing this inequity and injustice, and nothing being done about it.
They looked around, thought somebody else was going to do it, then realized, “You know what? They aren’t. I’m gonna do it.”
Alford: It is interesting because after the 2024 election, many of the 92%, as we call them, said, “We’re stepping back. We are preserving our peace. We are disillusioned. We’ve done our part, and we don’t want to do anymore.” When you look at past instigators, did any of them have moments like that? And are there lessons that perhaps we can take from Black women in the past who were instigators?
Omara: When I look at some of these examples, I definitely see some who were so frustrated while they were pushing for change, and organizing, and fundraising.
It might have changed their politics, what they believed, how they did the work, how they showed up, but they didn’t ever really stop doing what they were doing. The ones I write about, they didn’t take a step back permanently, they just pivoted. They found a different way to tackle the challenge that they were dealing with.
In our time, I think Black women are a lot more mindful about getting rest and taking care of themselves because we have seen how our elders have shortened their lives. We now know more about what stress and anxiety can do to the body. That is an important part of the movement work — making sure that you are rested and you have the community to keep going.
Alford: You often talk about Black women being loyal voters, particularly for the Democratic Party. Walk me through what that has looked like in history, but also the ways in which — despite that loyalty — Black women were still instigating within the party.
Omara: I’m going to give you a good example. She is outside the age demographic of the book now, but when she started her work, she was very much a young woman and an instigator: Virginia state senator Louise Lucas. She took the lead — as a Senate leader, Senate president pro tem, and the longest serving state senator in Virginia and in leadership — to push the redistricting initiative as far as she could and to get it on the ballot. She really rallied the caucus around it.
Given the life she’s lived, having gone from living in the era of Jim Crow to having [been] elected as a young Black woman at a time when very few Black women were in politics — let alone in state legislatures throughout the South — she’s seen when the party has pushed her to the margins, and then she’s found a way to push for policies and things that actually benefited her community in Virginia and as well as Black people overall.
Alford: One of my favorite chapters in the book is when you talk about running for office yourself: a seat in Virginia’s state legislature opens up, and you decide to go for it. There are some moments of victory, but there are also some moments where people who you expected to show up didn’t show up for you. What did that teach you about political loyalty in America, and how did it influence your politics going forward?
Omara: Before I ran for public office, everybody was like, “You should run. You’re on these boards. You raise this money.”
At that point, I was president of the Young Democrats of America. I was literally leading the youth arm of the Democratic Party, running in a Democratic primary where whoever got the nomination was likely to win because of the Democratic district. So they’d not only be a standard-bearer for the party, but would also have opportunities to really make an impact in the district and down at the general assembly.
And the moment I finally said, “Okay, I’m going to run for office,” people reacted like, “No, why are you doing that?” It’s not to say that anything was owed to me, but it was like my accomplishments were minimized and I was dismissed as somebody who couldn’t contribute things to the process.
It was really indicative of what I see as the exploitation and the love of Black women when we are in service to other people and to a cause, but when we step up to lead things and we’ve done the work and we think that we would be good in this role, it’s, “How dare you?” That’s something I learned from that experience and have seen repeated through my work with other Black women candidates.
Alford: With that being a consistent dynamic, how do Black women instigators keep pushing while sometimes being disappointed within their own party?
Omara: There’s not one way to make an impact. That’s why in the book, I lay out the various different ways that you can make change without necessarily being beholden to anyone in a party structure. If you decide you want to be a bundler — a fundraiser for the party or for various causes — that puts you in the driver’s seat because dollars are needed to fund the movement. If you do decide you want to run for office, where you’re going to be representing the people and asking for their vote, you can start early, build a network, identify a seat, and build a chance to have the most successful shot at running.
If that doesn’t work out, there are political leadership roles. There is building influence online, where Black women have found a lot of success in having their own voices. There are many different ways we can not just be a servant in the cause, but be a leader.
Alford: There is plenty of work to be done, that is without question. We can see that in the most recent decision by the Supreme Court, Louisiana v. Callais, that basically said the Voting Rights Act as we know it is no more. Justice Kagan wrote in her dissent that it threatens a half century’s worth of gains and voting equality.
For Black women who’ve organized their entire careers around protecting voting rights, what does this moment mean in your estimation? How do you think instigators should respond?
Omara: One of the women I highlight in the book is a voting rights advocate and organizer, Kat Calvin. With all of the state voter suppression laws in place — and after photo ID requirements were put in place in a lot of places — she’s one of those who are trying to figure a way to get people photo ID so they can vote and also access services.
For those who’ve been doing this work, this is going to be a call to arms. We passed a voting rights act on the state level in Virginia that insulates a lot of our voters from this.
We’ll be thinking about what we can do on the state and local levels in places where we do have the political power to organize, and about what we can do to stem the bleeding in places where we don’t. That’s going to be necessary. If there’s one thing that the instigators and those in history have taught me, and that I hope folks take from this book, it’s that giving up also isn’t an option. Anger and depression are certainly warranted for a period of time, but then it’s about figuring out, “Where do we go from here?”
Alford: In the book, you write about Ida B. Wells and Mary Church Terrell — both journalists who didn’t wait for mainstream media to validate them. They essentially had to build their own platforms, and now many Black women journalists are having to do the same thing. I’m thinking of women like Joy Reid, who was an instigator in her own right, and that also made her a target of this administration.
What is the move for today’s instigators, specifically for Black women in media and journalism who’ve lost jobs or lost visible roles?
You note that progressive media is not often funded in the same way that conservative media is, so what do they do? But also, should other people be stepping up to support their voices?
Omara: Oh my goodness, yes. Every time I see MacKenzie Scott or another person with some resources donate, especially to Black causes, I’m like, please donate to a network or a fund for Black women journalists. We can go out and freelance, and some find some great success with that, and we’re able to build a following and a paid readership, but it isn’t super sustainable.
That’s why not just institutions but people who have money should invest in more nonprofit media, more investigative reporting. That’s why I also hope this book is a rallying cry for donors who are interested in the cause and thinking of ways to contribute. Funding platforms is a good option — not as a project of controlling what the anchors say, but for the good of an inclusive democracy and making sure that good journalists have opportunity, the security of good pay, and the resources to do investigative reporting without worry about being censored by shareholders.
Alford: In the book you open up about being a young child growing up in an immigrant family in Virginia. When did you discover this legacy of Black women’s leadership in America? What did it mean to you to be growing up in America and knowing that legacy essentially paved the way for the entire country?
Omara: Growing up in the Nineties, there wasn’t a lot of information about a lot of Black women civil rights activists. I realized that in the history books, I’m seeing all these white men, I’m seeing all these white women, and they’re making a difference in politics and policy, and my eyes are kind of glazing over but I’m trying to find myself a little bit in them, certainly the women.
Then I come across somebody like an Ida B. Wells, or Sojourner Truth, and I’m drawn to their stories and to who they are. I see myself in them.
I remember just feeling like, okay, these are my people. These are folks who are angry against inequity and injustice, and are not only pushing back against this country, but also against sexism in their community and racism in the women’s rights movement, and are building for a better America.
This book is part practical guide, but it’s also a love letter lifting them up. This was just a way to shout out to them and how they inspired me, and to step into a tradition of continuing to build and fight for a multiracial democracy.
Alford: Please offer a final word about this moment in America to anyone, even if they are not a Black woman, who’s picking up this book. What are you making of this moment, and what do you want people to know as they read your book?
Omara: While it centers Black women, this book is for everyone to read. I want non-Black people of color, and I want white people who are trying to find ways to be useful accomplices, to read it. Anybody can be an instigator, and readers can learn how to take lessons from these women, and how they also can support instigators if they want to be more behind-the-scenes. The only way we’re going to build back from this moment that we’re in right now is if everybody picks up an oar and is rowing. That’s what this book is: a call to action.
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Louise Lucas is now under investigation by the Trump regime for her work in Virginia. I look forward to her taking them down.