The Washington Post ran two editorials in September 2025 urging Delegate Eleanor Holmes Norton (D-D.C.), who is 88 years old and in her 18th term as the District of Columbia’s delegate to Congress, to retire. Her mentee and former campaign manager Donna Brazile issued a clarion call for her “second mother” to retire. Two days later the Post’s editorial board echoed Brazile’s statements and added that District residents were frustrated and worried about her ability to stand up to President Trump’s federalization of the city.
Holmes Norton’s situation is hardly unique. In recent years, questions about aging leaders have dominated American politics. During Barack Obama’s presidency, progressive activists urged Supreme Court Justice Ruth Bader Ginsburg – already the Court’s oldest member by 2010 – to step down so a younger liberal judge could take her place. She refused, serving until her death in 2020 at age 87. Senator Dianne Feinstein (D-Calif.) also resisted calls to resign, remaining in office while facing numerous health problems until her death at 90. In the 2024 presidential race, Joe Biden’s age overshadowed nearly every other issue, raising doubts about whether he could serve a second term at 82. These examples all reflect a growing national anxiety: How long should political leaders stay in office, and who gets to decide when their time is up?
Black lawmakers worked hard to get into office
For Black lawmakers, the debate over age and retirement is paramount. In recent years, several prominent members of the Congressional Black Caucus (CBC) have died in office after long tenures, including civil rights icon John Lewis (D-Ga.) at 80 and Alcee Hastings (D-Fla.) at 84, both from pancreatic cancer. And as Black politics scholars, we readily noticed a pattern. Black members of Congress often remain in office well past the traditional retirement age, serving in roles they fought hard to attain in a system that long excluded Black representation. Their persistence underscores both the hard-won achievement of seniority and the challenges of generational turnover in Black political leadership.
Our analysis shows that this isn’t just anecdotal. Using data on every member of the U.S. House of Representatives from the 91st to the 117th Congress (1969 to 2023), we find that CBC members tend to enter Congress later – and stay longer than their colleagues. We intentionally begin with the 91st Congress, the first to include more than a handful of Black members. And 1969 was the year the Democratic Select Committee was formed – a precursor to the founding of the Congressional Black Caucus in the 92nd Congress. Starting here situates our analysis in the modern era of Black congressional representation.
Here’s what we found
Figure 1 shows the average age of CBC and non-CBC members at the start of each Congress since 1969. During the early years, CBC members were generally younger than their colleagues. However, from the 1990s onward, the average age of CBC members gradually increased, reaching over 64 years by the 115th Congress (2017–2019). While non-CBC members of Congress have also aged, the difference between the groups has widened, revealing how CBC members tend to remain in office longer and accumulate more seniority than their peers. Notably, both CBC men and women are consistently older than their non-CBC colleagues, indicating no gender difference. This is a caucus-wide trend.
These age patterns reflect when and how long Black lawmakers serve. On average, CBC members enter Congress slightly later in life than their colleagues but remain in office far longer – nearly four years longer, on average. The combination of later entry and extended tenure helps explain why the caucus has grown grayer over time.
Figure 2 shows how these patterns translate into career length. Both CBC and non-CBC members have seen longer tenures over time, but the gap between them has steadily widened. Since the 2000s, CBC members have served an average of nearly seven terms – roughly four years longer than their peers. This growing divide highlights how deeply entrenched seniority has become within the caucus. Over time, the caucus has transformed from one of the youngest groups in Congress during the 1970s – a cohort of young political trailblazers – to one of the oldest today. This reflects how Black lawmakers, once shut out of power, have become some of the most senior and influential figures in Congress.This is a clear sign of their resilience, but also reveals how little turnover there is within Black political representation.
The age paradox within the CBC
Seniority has long been both a source of pride and a bottleneck in Congress. Nowhere is that tension clearer than within the CBC. The caucus’s longevity has led to tangible gains: Veteran members like Maxine Waters (D-Calif.), Bennie Thompson (D-Miss.), and Gregory Meeks (D-N.Y.), all over the age of 70, have chaired some of the most powerful committees in Washington. These are milestones that would have been unthinkable a generation ago.
Seniority equals influence – the ability to sway policy, mentor newcomers, and shape the institution itself. But it also has a cost. The same political power structure that once excluded Black lawmakers now rewards those who stay longest. This leaves fewer opportunities for younger voices to rise and redefine what progress looks like within Black political representation.
In the 119th Congress, 106 members of the House of Representatives are aged 70 or older. From presidential campaigns to congressional and even local races, older candidates for public office increasingly face an added challenge: ageism. But for CBC members, ageism may be something that they are willing to take on. They have longer political careers and seek to hold on to their seats, in comparison with their counterparts. Perhaps younger CBC members may not remain in office for as long as their predecessors. Or maybe the CBC members who currently hold leadership positions in the Democratic Party will seek to leverage seniority in the same way that Del. Holmes Norton and others have.
The late Eddie Bernice Johnson (D-Texas) offered a glimpse of what generational transition might look like within the CBC. Before retiring from Congress in 2022, the longtime Texas representative handpicked and endorsed her successor, Jasmine Crockett (D-TX). Crockett was just 42 years old, and Johnson’s support helped ensure that the 30th District’s representation remained both Black and Democratic. Less than a year later, Johnson passed away at age 81 from an infection that her family claims was caused by medical negligence. It was a rare example of intentional succession in an institution that often treats retirement as a political defeat.
The CBC’s history shows that seniority has become a hard-won tool for political power. Achieving seniority in Congress helped transform Black lawmakers from outsiders to committee chairs. But the next chapter of Black political representation may depend on how willingly aging leaders now share that power with the next generation. Will today’s trailblazers and giants recognize that their legacy is also defined by their readiness to step out of the spotlight? And as voters, we should ask not only who has earned their place, but also who is preparing to replace their leadership and vision in the years ahead.
Nadia E. Brown is a professor of government and director of Women’s and Gender Studies at Georgetown University. She is the author of Sisters in the Statehouse: Black Women and Legislative Decision Making (Oxford University Press, 2014) and co-author with Danielle Lemi of Sister Style: The Politics of Appearance for Black Women Political Elites (Oxford University Press, 2021).
Michael G. Strawbridge is an assistant professor of political science at Washington University in St. Louis.
