By Javar Juarez | Op-Ed
Columbia, S.C. - Last night at the Hampton Preston Mansion Atrium, the Richland County Democratic Party hosted a fundraiser, “Chucks and Pearls,” under the leadership of Valerie Moore. The event was intended to energize the community, but it only revealed the deep fractures within the party and stirred emotions I couldn’t contain—anger, fear, and ultimately, heartbreak.
It was not lost on me that I stood on grounds steeped in both profound historical significance and deep pain for the Black community—the former mansion of Wade Hampton I, once among the wealthiest planters in the South and its largest enslaver.
The party I once believed in has diminished into a pale shadow of itself, failing to resonate with the heart of its base—Black voters. This decline, sadly, aligns with what we were warned about when Valerie Moore stepped into leadership in 2023. She took the reins from Attorney Deyaska Spencer-Sweatman, a leader who, despite opposition from her executive board, fought hard for what mattered. Spencer’s final words at the historic Reid Chapel AME meeting echoed sharply last night. Standing before Valerie Moore, she expressed doubt about Moore’s ability to lead, urging that her skills were more suited to the state party than the county. Her concerns fell on deaf ears as Moore retained the very same executive board that Spencer called ineffective—a clique known more for consolidating power than building bridges.
That same insular leadership was glaringly present last night, and their cold detachment mirrored the chilly October air. I had arrived at the event in high spirits, wearing my blue LA fitted cap, jersey, and Jordans, expecting a celebration that reflected the community I’ve worked tirelessly to empower. I had spent my day phone banking for crucial swing states and preparing South Carolina voters to rally behind Vice President Kamala Harris’s presidential campaign. But when I entered the venue, it became clear that the evening was anything but a celebration.
The vibe was lifeless, the food uninspired, and the room felt as distant as the party’s leadership has become. No warmth. No music that spoke to our soul. No soul food—a small but telling detail. A friend from church whispered beside me, “Not a piece of chicken in sight,” and it stung. This was not our party. It was a garden of privilege—cold, old, and disconnected.
Yet what hit hardest was not the bland charcuterie or the aloof atmosphere. It was the blatant dishonesty that unfolded before my eyes. Representative Beth Bernstein, dressed defiantly in bright red among a sea of blue, took the stage to deliver a speech filled with empty words about supporting education. But those of us in the trenches knew better. We knew that she had played a leading role in attacking Richland One School District, weaponizing false narratives with the help of Heather Bauer. Their so-called investigations—driven by misinformation and emboldened by partisan support—undermined the very Black educators and children they claimed to protect.
As Bernstein spoke, my rage boiled over. I stood abruptly, locking eyes with her, forcing her to pause mid-sentence. “Why are you looking at me like that?” she asked, visibly thrown. I could have called out her lies then and there, but I didn’t need to. She knew. Everyone in that room knew. The silence in the air was thicker than any charcuterie spread, and the weight of her deceit hung over us all.
When Richland One School Board Commissioner Angela Clyburn got up to speak (not pictured), her words were sobering. She cautioned against giving in to misinformation, yet there sat Bernstein—an emblem of the betrayal we’ve endured. Tears welled in my eyes, not just from sorrow but from rage. Rage at the audacity of Democrats like Bernstein and Bauer, who count on low Black voter turnout to retain their seats. Rage at the indifference of a party that has drifted so far from the community it claims to serve.
This is not just about one failed event or two misguided politicians. It’s about a deeper rot—a Democratic establishment that no longer reflects the people it represents. In a statehouse where our numbers are too small to matter to Republicans, the least we can do is ensure that the Democrats we elect fight for us. But instead, we are left with leaders who betray us for political gain, who weaponize false investigations to dismantle Black progress, and who cloak their intentions in lies.
As I sat there, tears streaming down my face, I felt the weight of the moment. I saw clearly what I had known all along: the greatest threat to our community doesn’t always come from the other side of the aisle. Sometimes, it’s the ones dressed in blue—or red in Bernstein’s case—who pose the real danger. Democrats like her and Bauer have become obstacles to progress, relying on complacency and division to maintain power.
Last night was not just a failed fundraiser. It was a reckoning. It was a stark reminder that the struggle for Black empowerment must continue, not just against obvious adversaries but against those within our own ranks who wear our colors but betray our cause. The enemy isn’t just across the aisle—it’s within, and it’s time we recognize it for what it is.
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