Why protesting injustice is as American as apple pie

We are a nation formed under the ideal of equal justice under the law. Our founders penned the three words that frame our governance: “We the people.” They spoke of God-given “inalienable rights,” but trafficked up to three million Africans into slavery and committed genocide against Native Americans on their own land. America’s founding is a paradox.

But we must never forget our origins. We are a nation born out of bravery, battle, victory, slavery, and sacrifice. And injustice. Our nation’s leaders still struggle to see the value in all humanity. We witness the abuse and murder of protesters, whom I like to call Angelic Dissenters, on the news and find ourselves compelled to assent to censorship and silence in the face of capitalistic exploitation. But this is not how the story has to end.

We are a nation built on protest.

Protesters of our past are spoken of as heroes while protesters of today are vilified, pepper-sprayed, and shot. I have witnessed firsthand how elected officials attempt to crush and dismantle peaceful dissent in our society. Many of these same officials, and those who support them, will celebrate our country’s flag and eat hot dogs on the Fourth of July, then ignore the truth of what truly makes America great: her people and their right to stand up to injustice.

Our right to protest is sacred. Before the First Amendment was written, Americans understood that tyranny can only be overthrown by people who use their bodies to resist.

After a mass shooting in my home state of Tennessee in 2023, 7,000 protestors came to the Tennessee State Capitol to demand action. The majority were students under the age of 18 who begged, shouted, cried, and sang about our need for gun safety. Many of my fellow legislators mocked, laughed at, and ignored them as they strolled into the House chamber.

But the lifted voices ringing throughout the People’s House emboldened me and two of my colleagues when the Speaker of the House refused to hear them. We went to the well of the House floor, halted the business as usual proceedings, and demanded they listen. Ultimately, this peaceful protest led to the expulsion of the two youngest Black lawmakers in the state — but it also prompted our Republican governor to sign an executive order that strengthened background checks and breathed new life into the national discussion about gun violence in America.

There is a lesson in this for all of us: We must exercise our power both inside the institution and outside of it. You do not need a title to make a difference. You only need to be willing to show up, stand up, and speak up. Courage and change emerge in ways we do not expect or anticipate. This resistance always comes at a cost that is always worth it.

Protesting for justice is refusing to abandon our ideals; it’s refusing to hand over our future to the wealthy and powerful. Our actions push the status quo. They shift the conversations in policy and politics, and challenge the capitulation of democratic institutions upon which we depend. Protest is not about a president, an administration, or any singular action. It is about forcing our country to live up to our creed as a “government of the people, by the people, for the people.” To turn our back on these ideals is to abandon our nation’s soul.

During the Civil War, when my enslaved ancestors fought for the Union against white supremacy, they not only helped to unite a country, they helped to move America closer to her ideals. When our forerunners of the Civil Rights Movement marched across the Edmund Pettus Bridge in Selma, Alabama, and were bludgeoned, it forced our nation to reckon with its separate and unequal democracy. When millions of people across the world marched in protest after the modern-day lynchings of Breonna Taylor, George Floyd, and so many others, they forced us to confront the reality that we are not who we professed ourselves to be. The responsibility to close that breach falls on all of us, and we must be persistent in that pursuit.

Every time we push back against injustice, a harsh backlash follows. Retribution in the South. Red Summer. Lynchings. Assassinations. Mass incarceration. The rise of white Christian nationalism. Attacks on diversity, equity, and inclusion. The firing of qualified four-star generals. Blaming Black women. Villainizing immigrants. These are all symptoms of the proliferation of vitriol and hate in our body politic.

We must answer this simple question: Will we let it stop us?

For 250 years, Angelic Dissenters have fought the status quo and have endured the construction, destruction, and reconstruction of this democratic republic. We will have 250 more and better years if we recognize that the people who carry the fundamental promise of our nation in their hearts are why we have made it as far as we have.