“The Short Answer is, I’m a Troublemaker. There’s a Lot of Good Trouble That Can Be Created”: Interview with Pennsylvania State Rep Chris Rabb
Transcript from an interview with Pennsylvania State Representative Chris Rabb (D-200). Edited for clarity:
Ben: Joining me now is Representative Chris Rabb. He’s a father, educator, author, and social justice activist. He’s also a state representative in Pennsylvania for the 200th district, which is in Northwest Philly. Representative Rabb, how are you? Thank you so much for joining me.
Rep. Rabb: I’m well. Thanks for having me on the show.
Ben: The pleasure is mine. I learned about you through the interview that you did with our colleague Nomiki Konst. You talked about reparations and the work and activism you do there as a representative in Philadelphia and Pennsylvania. Why don’t you introduce yourself to the audience so that they can become familiar with who you are and what you’re fighting for.
Rep. Rabb: Sure. Thank you. So, I represent roughly 65,000 souls in Northwest Philly. I’m part of the largest full-time state legislature in the country. There are 203 state representatives in the house and 50 in the Senate. It’s currently controlled by the tea party in both chambers and has been for some time. I was elected to office in 2016, the same day as what’s his name. So, I joined the smallest house democratic caucus in 60 years. I was deeply demoralized the night I won because I knew what I was walking into, and it was brutal. Despite that fact, over my first two terms in office, I was able to pass four bills into law that I’m very proud of. I still can’t figure out how I was able to do it, but I know I didn’t do it alone.
Ben: To that point, you are extremely busy. I was looking at some of the committees that you’re a part of; agriculture, rural affairs, finance, secretary of commerce, judiciary, policy committee, legislative black caucus, county delegation. You are out here all over the place doing this work. To dig in a little bit about you, what drove you to this versus any other field where you could have taken your expertise?
Rep. Rabb: Well, I guess the short answer is, I’m a troublemaker. There’s a lot of good trouble that can be created in state legislatures and elective office up and down, and I was moved by the moment. I kind of remember the whispers of my ancestors. I come from a long line of troublemakers, abolitionists, civil rights, activists, educators, jurists, and artists. I’m continuing and inspired by the legacy within and beyond my family and the black folk who have led movements for generations. It called me to action in a way that I did not foresee.
I did not hope to be an elective office. It was not a plan. It was not even an interest. One of the reasons is that I’ve worked in politics. I worked in the US Senate for the first black woman senator, Sen. Carol Moseley Braun of Illinois, in my early twenties. And I said, “This place is a swamp.” Does that sound familiar? I said, “This is an awful place.” I don’t know how people can be in elective office. I did see the benefit of government and good legislation and powerful advocates, so I wasn’t anti-government or anti-public service. I just didn’t anticipate being the one in elective office. I thought I could be behind the scenes. But now it seems that this is exactly where I’m supposed to be, because when you’re in the belly of the beast, it takes a certain type of person to be able to handle that without strangling somebody. And I haven’t strangled anyone yet, so that’s, you know, it must be something right. Not everyone can operate in the belly of the beast.
I think if I were in a blue state with an overwhelming Democratic majority it’d be really challenging for me because the “D” behind my name doesn’t really mean much to me. It doesn’t signify as much as my progressive values. And being a black person who has benefited from those progressive actions that have actually helped an entire nation is something that I’m more committed to than a political party. And so, for that reason, being in the belly of beast matters, because when you’re deep in the bowels of a monster, you’ve got to thrash around and be loud and be creative to get out of it. But if you’re a complacent soul, whether you’re a Democrat or Republican, then you’re going to dissolve in that belly, and that’s not going to happen to me.
Ben: Wow. I see. On your mantle back there, it looks like it says ‘Invisible Capital’. That is your 2011 book, with the subtitle, “How unseen forces shape entrepreneurial opportunity.” And I want to start here in this deeper conversation, because in the very first chapter it’s almost prophetic, right? You speak about Donald Trump, and I want to read this a little portion. You said,
“Take Donald Trump, perhaps one of the best-known businessmen in modern times. In Trump 101, The Donald, as he is popularly known, tells readers that they can succeed if they tough it out, listen to your gut, and take chances. What he doesn’t tell them is that they will have a better chance to succeed in the real estate business, if real estate is the family business.”
One of the reasons I want to bring that up is obviously Donald Trump since then, became the president of the United States. And he became president partly because of the fallacy of bootstrapping that we have in this country, which tells everyone that if they just work a little bit harder, they can get to the top. People admire people at the top, even though they didn’t have to work as hard to get there. Would you expound on that in the context of your book?
Rep. Rabb: Yeah, sure. It’s funny, because the expression, “pick yourself up by my own bootstraps” is associated with the author, Horatio Alger, who popularized these novels about little street urchins who make it to multimillionaire status, but he was a second-generation Harvard graduate. So, if he had boots, they were Ferragamos. And when you look at Donald Trump, he says he did it, but he had millions of dollars of support from his father with those bootstraps. He was not a self-made man. He was a self-made brand. The one thing that he did really well was to create a brand. It’s based entirely on fiction, but he’s really good at spinning fiction to make a compelling racist, populist storyline that has gotten millions and millions of white-folk and some beleaguered, self-hating Negroes to join on his bandwagon.
It is that notion of rugged individualism, the shiny side of capitalism, that lets Americans believe, “Okay, I’m working class, my parents were poor, their parents were poor, but I’m going to be rich. And I don’t want to be taxed like the rich people are, because I don’t want the government to take my money.” Even though most rich people have been facilitated by taxpayer money, right? Some of the largest corporations came into being through government grants. For the poor, who are “undeserving,” we call these grants welfare or handouts. And yet, whether it’s FedEx or Microsoft or the internet itself, they were funded by taxpayer money. They like to bemoan government intervention, but they would not be here without it.
And let’s also note that when we talk about government, we have to talk about civil servant jobs and how the middle-class was expanded through government jobs, federal and down, starting in the sixties. When Nixon was afraid that the most radical among us was going to burn down the country. They said, “We need to give them a piece of the pie so that they don’t feel that we are the enemy.” And it created all these jobs, which also led to affirmative action for everyone else who ain’t black. White women have benefited the most from the things that started with black protests in the streets.
And the things I’m most proud of from my last term in 2019 and 2020 were based on the activism of young people, black folk, and other folk, who demanded justice. And that inspired a few black legislators to take down the house — to literally shut it down and demand legislative action on police accountability. We got two bills that were enacted into law within 36 days of shutting down the house. The reason that’s important is that it was coming through the judiciary committee that had 840 bills go through in four years, not a single one of which dealt with police accountability. So, these are really the first police accountability bills that have been enacted into law in Pennsylvania history.
Ben: In your interview with Nomiki, you spoke about the importance of language. You explained that you don’t use the word slave to, but instead, you use slave laborers. Give me the context for that, because I think that might be a good foray into the rest of the conversation.
Rep. Rabb: Language is power, right? Words matter, right? Listen, if some white dude rolled up on you and called you boy, I imagine you’re gonna have a problem with that, right?
Ben: Just slightly, yeah.
Rep. Rabb: Yeah, you might, right? Now, if it was your buddy who you grew up with, who was black, he said, “Oh, that’s my boy, Ben. That’s my boy.” That’s a different context of the same word, right?
Ben: Mmhm.
Rep. Rabb: But then we have words that go deeper, that dehumanize like n*gger. When you say n*gger, and it’s a white person, you got a battle on your hands. That is a dehumanizing word. The word itself doesn’t mean anything. It’s how it’s conveyed. In what context, we know we’re not going to tolerate that, right? You got the hard er pronunciation versus the a between black folk, right? We got these nuances.
But here’s the thing about the word slave. I’m a family historian and genealogist. I take this very seriously. I descend from 16 great, great grandparents, all of whom were born into a society before the 13th amendment was ratified. They all died free. Many of them were enslaved by enslavers. It was a condition thrust upon them and state governments and the federal government were complicit. They were people, they weren’t slaves. They were enslaved. It was an atrocity thrust upon them and their ancestors. We do not want to further dehumanize our ancestors who had the inspiration — who were of the abolitionist movement, formally or informally. Any enslaved person who wanted to be free was an abolitionist by my standard.
Why are we going to dishonor them and call them anything but the amazing human beings that they were, who chose to survive? Because not everyone chose to survive, right? People jumped off those ships in the middle passage. They said, “I’m not doing it.” And I’m not judging those people who made that choice. All of us descend from people who chose to survive, and I’m not going to dishonor them by calling them slaves. We need to place the blame at the foot of the enslavers. And that’s what they were. They weren’t slave masters, they were enslavers.
Ben: I think those distinctions are so critical, especially when I feel like, in 2020, we’re fighting, in addition to COVID 19, a pandemic of misinformation and absence of truth. We’re fighting the language used to gaslight, not only from Donald Trump (I think that’s the most obvious), but even down to these arguments between progressives and centrists in our own party about sloganeering, about Defund the Police or language around abolishing the police. It seems to be an all-out war on language and truth. I know that’s kind of broad because if we dug into the gaslighting coming from Donald Trump alone, we could probably have volumes about how language is used to gaslight the populace. But if you could just drill down a little bit in terms of reparations, defunding the police, white supremacy and how language impacts all of that, and even how it impacts your work.
Rep. Rabb: Oh, wow. I mean, language is everything. For a legislator, the difference between may and shall is huge. They seem just like formalistic terms, but may means you have the option, and shall means you must. So, just changing one little word could change the whole trajectory of a bill. I introduced a bill that’s been enacted into law that would create a confidential police misconduct database. Right before it was voted out of committee unanimously, some folks snuck in some language that created a loophole that the Fraternity of Police probably inspired. Now, I gotta figure out how to close that loophole, and it was just seemingly subtle language that changed it all.
Now, when you talk about things that have a big impact, like Defund the Police, the challenge is that it’s a great rallying cry for people who are the most abused and angriest, right? Because there’s legitimacy. The police get too much money, and too much of the work they do they have no business doing. They shouldn’t be traffic enforcement. They shouldn’t be dealing with domestic violence, immigration, or mental health. They’re not prepared for that. And most cops didn’t sign up to do that work. So why give them the money to do the work in a way that other professionals could do much better? So, defund makes sense in a very narrowly constructed way and to various populations, but defund doesn’t work. For me, in my role as a legislator, for one reason, it shuts people down. So, it makes it harder for me to get things done that people want. And you’re not talking about what you want, you’re just talking about what you don’t want. You don’t want cops to have more money than they deserve, or whatever.
But the real issue for me is, there’s a belief — perhaps an implicit belief — that cops are supposed to keep us safe, but I’ve never felt that way. As a black man growing up in Chicago, living in Philly, being a father of two black boys who are now teenagers, that’s not how I think. I think I want to avoid cops as much as possible, and I have no criminal record. I’m not doing anything wrong. Except I happened to be inhabiting a body that is criminalized in this society, as facilitated by both Republicans and Democrats. That is a bipartisan issue — white folk have used their political power to criminalize black bodies in one way or the other. So, I’ll say this: I’m interested in us having a conversation around community safety — meaning that whoever you are and whatever community you affiliate with, whether you’re black, queer, transgender, immigrant, returning citizen — do you feel as safe being a part of that community as a white, Anglo-Saxon, Protestant, middle-aged, middle-class, straight white guy? If the answer is no, we have work to do. And that’s not really something that police were created to do.
The institution of the police goes back 320 years in Pennsylvania, to 1700 when the Night Watch was started. Then, over a hundred years later, we had a Day Watch where they conscripted poor white people to surveil black folk, enslaved black folk, and “free” black folk in Pennsylvania. Then, in 1855, they created the first police department in Philadelphia. And at no point between 1700 and today, has there ever been any mandate for transparency, accountability, or inclusion in a predominantly white police force. It’s never happened. So, all the people who were pushing back on Defund the Police or community policing or whatever reforms people are talking about — my question to them is, when was the golden era of policing when black people felt safe? And the answer, honestly, is: Never! Because it wasn’t created for us, it was created to surveil us. And that means that we have to have a conversation about how we look beyond policing and not seeing policing and the carceral state as a way to address seemingly intractable issues.
So, it’s not about Defund the Police from my perspective, it’s about finding the resources to promote community safety. If that involves some portion of how we define police today, so be it. But if it requires social workers or other professionals, then we need to have that conversation. So, we have to change our pivot point about what is it that we actually envisioned for our community. And the thing about it is, too many white folk individuate the problem. They say, “Well, you know, I’m okay with it,” or “I’m against it,” but how do you feel as an aggrieved member of a community that has been historically marginalized? And what does success look like? And that’s why language matters. So, I’m not hating on Defund. I think it has more value from a mobilizing perspective, on a grassroots level. I’m okay with that. But, you know, in the halls of power, that framework has no value. I’m not saying don’t do it. I’m not using that term, but I’m not hating on the folks who embrace it, because I know where they’re coming from, and they have valid points.
Ben: I wish I could go into that particular topic with you more, but I know we’re pressed up against the time. So, I gotta have you back to talk more about defunding the police, cause I’m fascinated by that framing. I want to pivot to two last things before you go. One is the reparations bill that you’re pushing in Pennsylvania, but I also want to couch it in the context of your progressiveness and where it came from. What’s the root? If we start with your progressiveness first, I think we’ll lead seamlessly into the work that you’re doing in terms of reparation. So, how, black man, are you so progressive in these streets?
Rep. Rabb: Well, I’m a lifelong learner, and the more I learn, the more I can’t help but be more progressive, right? I mean, sometimes it goes the other way around I’ve heard, but that has not been my experience. When you humble yourself to accept the fact that there’s so much you don’t know, that gives you the license to hear what other people are saying. It’s like, oh, I never thought of it that way. And that’s how you grow. That’s how you mature. And that’s how you get smarter. I’d like to think I’m not just getting older, I’m getting wiser. And that requires you to listen to people outside your bubble, outside your comfort zone.
And so, with reparations, I’m reminded of something that my great, great, great grandfather, Reverend Amos Noë Freeman did 165 years ago. He left his daughters at home in Brooklyn, and he helped another black girl escape from slavery. She came down from Washington DC, through Philly, stayed at William still’s home, (who was in the movie, Harriet), taken by a white abolitionist from Philly through Camden to Brooklyn, and then from Brooklyn to Manhattan, to Rochester, to Canada. He safely transferred this little girl, disguised as a boy, named Anna Maria Weems, to her aunt and uncle who escaped four years prior. So, he left his own little girls to help the parents of another little girl, who he’d never met before, to help them find freedom in a country that was not their own.
He did that 165 Thanksgivings ago, and that inspires me. He left his comfort zone. He did something for the greater good of his people. He wasn’t just speechifying. He put his life on the line and worked with strangers who had the same values. That is progressive. He didn’t call himself a progressive. He was a radical Presbyterian minister who was an orphan, and he led with his values. I have many stories like that in my family and beyond, and that’s what inspires me. That’s what progressivism is. You have to walk the talk.
Ben: Yeah, and I think that is so critical, right? So, there’s a long legacy, a lineage of progressive action, not just the word progressivism, but progressive action that is even in your own bloodline.
Rep. Rabb: Talk is cheap. Look, it’s real easy to get on Twitter and blow people out, you know?
Ben: It is.
Rep. Rabb: And you know about that. But when you get in a room with somebody, they get real quiet, like, where’s your Twitter courage, right? It requires the most courage when you have something on the line. I’ve seen a lot of online progressives who get real quiet when they have to speak truth to power in the room, with the actual people who they would otherwise be hiding behind a laptop from. The proof is in the pudding. What are you prepared to do? Are you prepared to be the only person in the house of representatives who will stand up and speak against injustice when everyone is remaining silent? Are you prepared to do that? That’s the courage of your convictions around progressive values. And to me, progressive means progress. It’s about moving forward. It doesn’t mean about moving left or right, because those are artificial terms, but we can objectively say that this is moving our society forward for all marginalized communities.
Ben: I think that’s absolutely brilliant. We’ll have you back to discuss reparations by itself in great detail, but I wanted to at least let the audience get to know who you are this time. With the few moments that we have left, please tell us about the reparations package that you have moving through the legislature there in Pennsylvania.
Rep. Rabb: I appreciate the opportunity to speak on it. I’ll be brief. This is what I want people to understand if this is the only thing they hear from me on this issue: reparations is not something just for black folk, it’s not something that has to be associated with slavery, it doesn’t have to be a check, and it also doesn’t have to be a one-time thing. If you understand those things, you can open your mind to the possibilities of what reparations could look like for those folks who have been victimized by systemic racism that is inclusive of but not exclusive to slavery. My forthcoming bill focuses on systemic racism in the state of Pennsylvania as facilitated by the state government. That is the legislature, the judiciary, and the executive branches — how they either did things that were overtly pro-white supremacist or anti-black, and things that they were complicit in over the centuries since 1776 by remaining silent or taking no action.
That’s one thing, and two is that reparations is not just a check, because if you are acknowledging that it is systemic racism, that means we have to have systemic solutions. Cutting a check to an individual black person is not a systemic response. So, what are the collective benefits for black folk? And what is the entity that determines how the reparations are funded and where the money goes? And who should get more attention than others? If you’re a black person who doesn’t identify as black, do you get individual benefits? I don’t think you should. If you’re ashamed of being black, I don’t want to cut you a check, right?
And here’s the other thing, what about how long your family has been in the state? I’ve been in Pennsylvania for 18 years, but I have friends whose people have been here for 180 years, that have been black for multiple generations in this Commonwealth that has had explicitly racist bills enacted into law for generations, the harm to them is much greater than the harm to me because I’ve only been here a short amount of time. So, for any individual benefits being accrued, I shouldn’t get as much as the person who’s been here since their people were enslaved in Pennsylvania. That is just fair, right? So, we have to have a conversation about what that would look like.
And the last thing I want to say is this. I descend from a number of enslaved ancestors across this country. Mississippi, Georgia, South Carolina, Alabama, Kentucky, Maryland, and New York. Slavery was a state law. It was not federal law. It was a state law. So, if it’s a state law, that means state legislatures are on the hook. That doesn’t mean that Congress shouldn’t provide reparations on a federal level. It also means that corporations need to provide reparations, universities, foundations, religious orders, whether it’s the Jesuits or the Episcopalian church or whomever, they got to pay up too. My bill will focus exclusively on the state’s complicity in systemic racism against black folk who lived in the Commonwealth of Pennsylvania from 1776 to the present.
Ben: Wow. Representative Rabb from Pennsylvania’s 200th district. We will bring you back soon to discuss reparations specifically at length. Thank you so much for joining us.
Rep. Rabb: My pleasure.
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