Activism as a Posture: Understanding Protests in a Larger Context
Maybe you’ve seen this sign pop up at a protest or on the news:
"I can't believe we still have to protest this shit."
Originating at pro-choice protests, it’s now a mainstay at most anti-Trump events in one version or another. And every time I see it, I feel it in my chest: the weariness; the exhaustion; the frustration; the overwhelming disbelief that we’re in the moment we’re in.
And yet, while so relatable and understandable, this sign also exposes an optimistic naiveté many of us have with activism in general: that when we protest something and win, it just goes away and we can move on.
(As a former history teacher, I admit this is how far too many textbooks treat past movements for social change – as if to say “we did it!” so this page in our shared history can be turned.)
But our history is far more complex.
While individual protests erupt in response to particular events, they are rarely about overcoming a one-time problem. When we protest President Trump or his policies, we are pushing back on historical forces that have shaped the United States into being. Forces such as white supremacy, patriarchy, and violence that are older than any of us and will outlast each of us.
As Resmaa Menakem writes, “America’s cultural DNA is in trauma, and unless we face it directly, it will keep showing up in new forms.”
That means when we protest, we are joining an ongoing process that spans generations: to build on the work of our ancestors, to attempt to face our cultural trauma more honestly, and to pass the hopefully-diminished work along to our descendants.
Activism is then not about winning one-time debates or challenges; it’s not about seeing a problem and fixing a problem.
It is a posture of promise we hold as we move through the world, knowing we can make change with who we are and the active presence we embody.
Which brings me to today…
In seventeen days, we will have another massive, nationwide protest. It will be the second major “No Kings” protest and one more of the thousands organized since the beginning of Trump’s second term.
(If you haven’t participated in one, I invite you to start on the 18th. You can find details below.)
But even if you can’t make it that day – because of kids, jobs, health, or sheer exhaustion – your presence is still vital to this moment. Find a way to take action – to hold that posture of promise – that fits who you are.
Last week, one of my favorite people and beloved Elders in my life emailed me this:
“Here at my retirement home, every Friday for the last 5 or 6 months a largish group of us either stand on our corner holding a variety of signs and calling out and waving, or walk around the block with signs. It feels like we are at least doing something.”
This is the invitation of our shared moment: to find ways to show up with postures of promise – as activists and as protesters – in the unique and creative ways we can. (Identify your “safe-enough” actions with this exercise.)
