Unheard voices

The Democratic National Convention was filled with energy and hope for a better future. There was a recognition that we are facing historic choices with far reaching consequences. In her acceptance speech Kamala Harris named the moment saying:

“With this election, our nation has a precious, fleeting opportunity to move past the bitterness, cynicism and divisive battles of the past. A chance to chart a new way forward. Not as members of any one party or faction, but as Americans.”

The convention offered thoughtful, rousing, courageous, and often playful comments about the choices in front of us. 

For me, the most powerful moments came not from political leaders, but from the voices of people who had the courage to share their personal stories about the consequences of political decisions in their personal lives. Testimonies of women who suffered under draconian abortion laws, parents and children dealing with death and the trauma of gun violence, people facing financial crises because of health care, and families attempting to have children with the help of medical procedures in danger of facing criminal charges. 

These short comments enabled us to see beyond abstract rhetoric to understand the consequences policies have in the lives of everyday people. 

And that is why I am so deeply saddened by the refusal of the DNC to allow a single Palestinian voice to be heard. In spite of intense negotiations and a willingness to compromise, the DNC and the Harris Campaign refused to allow a member of the uncommitted movement the opportunity to speak. This was not only a tactical mistake, but a moral failing. 

Since August 1 the Uncommitted movement has pushed to have a speaker on the main stage of the convention.  They had hoped for either a Palestinian American or Dr. Tanya Haj-Hassan, a pediatric intensive care doctor who volunteered in Gaza to share their stories. After weeks of negotiation, a list of potential speakers was presented that included Georgia State representative Ruwa Romman, an elected official and a member of the uncommitted movement.

Her opportunity to speak was denied. No reason was given.

The DNC made much of the legacy of Fannie Lou Hamer and John Lewis. They claimed the virtues of standing up for the vulnerable, of neighborliness, compassion, and kindness. Yet they are still gripped by the fears that force us to draw lines that exclude, dehumanize. and diminish some of us.

Thanks to Mother Jones we have the words we were not allowed to hear.

My name is Ruwa Romman, and I’m honored to be the first Palestinian elected to public office in the great state of Georgia and the first Palestinian to ever speak at the Democratic National Convention. My story begins in a small village near Jerusalem, called Suba, where my dad’s family is from. My mom’s roots trace back to Al Khalil, or Hebron. My parents, born in Jordan, brought us to Georgia when I was eight, where I now live with my wonderful husband and our sweet pets.

Growing up, my grandfather and I shared a special bond. He was my partner in mischief—whether it was sneaking me sweets from the bodega or slipping a $20 into my pocket with that familiar wink and smile. He was my rock, but he passed away a few years ago, never seeing Suba or any part of Palestine again. Not a day goes by that I don’t miss him.

This past year has been especially hard. As we’ve been moral witnesses to the massacres in Gaza, I’ve thought of him, wondering if this was the pain he knew too well. When we watched Palestinians displaced from one end of the Gaza Strip to the other, I wanted to ask him how he found the strength to walk all those miles decades ago and leave everything behind. 

But in this pain, I’ve also witnessed something profound—a beautiful, multifaith, multiracial, and multigenerational coalition rising from despair within our Democratic Party. For 320 days, we’ve stood together, demanding to enforce our laws on friend and foe alike to reach a ceasefire, end the killing of Palestinians, free all the Israeli and Palestinian hostages, and to begin the difficult work of building a path to collective peace and safety. That’s why we are here—members of this Democratic Party committed to equal rights and dignity for all. What we do here echoes around the world.

They’ll say this is how it’s always been, that nothing can change. But remember Fannie Lou Hamer—shunned for her courage, yet she paved the way for an integrated Democratic Party. Her legacy lives on, and it’s her example we follow.

But we can’t do it alone. This historic moment is full of promise, but only if we stand together. Our party’s greatest strength has always been our ability to unite. Some see that as a weakness, but it’s time we flex that strength. 

Let’s commit to each other, to electing Vice President Harris and defeating Donald Trump who uses my identity as a Palestinian as a slur. Let’s fight for the policies long overdue—from restoring access to abortions to ensuring a living wage, to demanding an end to reckless war and a ceasefire in Gaza. To those who doubt us, to the cynics and the naysayers, I say, yes, we can—yes, we can be a Democratic Party that prioritizes funding our schools and hospitals, not for endless wars. That fights for an America that belongs to all of us—Black, brown, and white, Jews and Palestinians, all of us, like my grandfather taught me, together.