vox--2020-07-18--Politicians and activists praise Rep. John Lewis’s legacy of “good trouble”

Tributes are pouring in from political leaders and activists following the news late Friday night that Rep. John Lewis , the Georgia congressman and civil rights leader , has died .
In tweets and public statements , Democratic and Republican lawmakers , as well as current and former colleagues in the civil rights movement , praised Lewis ’ s decades of activism — a lifelong project he often described as “ good trouble.
” The son of sharecroppers , Lewis was only 23 years old when he spoke at the March on Washington in 1963 .
He was among the @ @ @ @ @ @ @ civil rights movement , a group led by Dr. Martin Luther King , Jr. that planned the march , and was its last surviving member .
He was among the protesters beaten by law enforcement during a 1965 march across the Edmund Pettus Bridge in Selma , Alabama , an incident that helped spur federal civil rights legislation , particularly the Voting Rights Act , passed later that year .
Described as “ the conscience of Congress , ” Lewis was elected to the body in 1986 as a Democrat in Atlanta .
@ @ @ @ @ @ @ he opposed the Iraq War , protested for the rights of refugees and immigrants , and advocated for gun reform measures .
Recently , he argued for President Donald Trump ’ s impeachment from the floor of the House of Representatives , and took part in anti-racism protests .
In December , Lewis announced he had stage 4 pancreatic cancer .
In a statement at the time , he said he would continue working for his district , writing , “ We still have many bridges to cross.
” As news of his @ @ @ @ @ @ @ Saturday , leaders across the political spectrum referred to that legacy of fighting as they offered their condolences in public statements and on social media .
House Speaker Nancy Pelosi issued a statement that said Lewis ’ s colleagues in Congress were “ heartbroken.
” “ May his memory be an inspiration that moves us all to , in the face of injustice , make ‘ good trouble , necessary trouble , ’ ” she said .
Former President Barack Obama , who honored Lewis with the Presidential Medal of Freedom in 2011 @ @ @ @ @ @ @ to nonviolence in a statement published Saturday .
Lewis “ loved this country so much that he risked his life and his blood so that it might live up to its promise , ” Obama wrote .
“ And through the decades , he not only gave all of himself to the cause of freedom and justice , but inspired generations that followed to try to live up to his example.
” In a statement , Joe Biden , the presumptive Democratic presidential nominee , called Lewis “ truly a one-of-a-kind , a @ @ @ @ @ @ @ point us and which direction to march.
” Sen. Bernie Sanders ( I-VT ) praised Lewis ’ s lifelong commitment to collective activism , writing the lawmaker ’ s “ courage helped transform this country.
” Keisha Lance Bottoms , the mayor of Atlanta , ordered the flags of City Hall to be flown half-mast in Lewis ’ s honor , calling him “ the most brave of giants ” in a tweet .
Flags will similarly be lowered at the US Capitol in Lewis ’ s honor , and at the White @ @ @ @ @ @ @ yet issued a statement about Lewis on Saturday morning , but in a proclamation , Trump stated that the act was “ a mark of respect for the memory and longstanding public service ” of Lewis .
The proclamation means that all flags at public buildings , military posts , naval stations and vessels , and at all United States embassies , consulates , and facilities abroad , will remain at half-mast throughout Saturday .
Although Lewis was a lifelong Democrat , many Republicans , including some with whom Lewis had sparred in @ @ @ @ @ @ @ ’ s work as an activist — also shared their thoughts .
Former President George W. Bush , whose first inauguration Lewis skipped , and who later joined Lewis on the Edmund Pettus Bridge for the 50th anniversary of Bloody Sunday , said he was mourning Lewis ’ s death .
“ As a young man marching for equality in Selma , Alabama , John answered brutal violence with courageous hope , ” Bush said in a statement .
“ And throughout his career as a civil rights leader and public servant , @ @ @ @ @ @ @ more perfect union .
America can best honor John ’ s memory by continuing his journey toward liberty and justice for all.
” Senate Majority Leader Mitch McConnell ( R-KY ) issued a statement about Lewis ’ s death that called him “ a pioneering civil rights leader who put his life on the line to fight racism , promote equal rights , and bring our nation into greater alignment with its founding principles.
” Critics responded to McConnell ’ s statement by noting that one of the causes for which Lewis shed @ @ @ @ @ @ @ has been defanged , and that McConnell has so far declined to back legislation meant to restore key portions of it .
Sen. Tim Scott , the Senate ’ s only African American Republican , said Lewis had welcomed him to Congress with “ open arms ” after his 2011 election .
“ He was a giant among men ; his life and legacy will continue to serve as an example for the generations to come , ” Scott tweeted .
“ I am encouraged by his courage , determination , and perseverance @ @ @ @ @ @ @ to emulate — especially in the wake of current events.
” The tributes reflected the trajectory of Lewis ’ s career , from Alabama-born activist to Georgia politician .
Fellow Georgia lawmakers speaking in Lewis ’ s honor included Sens .
David Perdue and Kelly Loeffler , both Republicans , and Stacey Abrams , a Democrat .
Former President Jimmy Carter also had praise for Lewis .
“ He made an indelible mark on history through his quest to make our nation more just , ” Carter , who appointed Lewis the associate @ @ @ @ @ @ @ agency , in 1977 , wrote .
“ Everything he did , he did in a spirit of love .
All Americans , regardless of race or religion , owe John Lewis a debt of gratitude.
” “ My friend , role model , and activist extraordinaire has passed , ” Rev .
Al Sharpton wrote .
“ Congressman John Lewis taught us how to be an activist .
He changed the world without hate , rancor or arrogance .
A rare and great man.
” And Rev .
Jesse Jackson , Sr. @ @ @ @ @ @ @ Testament prophet.
” Dr. King ’ s children , Bernice King and Martin Luther King III , also praised their father ’ s colleague .
“ Farewell , sir .
You did , indeed , fight the good fight and get into a lot of good trouble .
You served God and humanity well , ” wrote Bernice King , while her brother called Lewis “ an American treasure.
” Funeral information for Lewis has not yet been shared , and public tributes of the kind that celebrated the life of fellow activist @ @ @ @ @ @ @ in October are unlikely during the coronavirus pandemic .
Notably absent among the immediate outpouring of tributes was a statement from President Trump , who frequently ridiculed Lewis .
Lewis skipped Trump ’ s 2017 inauguration , saying he considered the election to be illegitimate , and Trump has attacked Lewis in tweets , calling him “ all talk , talk , talk - no action.
” Although Trump himself did not release a statement Saturday morning , his press secretary Kayleigh McEnany tweeted a tribute , writing that “ We hold his @ @ @ @ @ @ @ remember Rep. John Lewis ’ incredible contributions to our country.
” Every day at Vox , we aim to answer your most important questions and provide you , and our audience around the world , with information that has the power to save lives .
Our mission has never been more vital than it is in this moment : to empower you through understanding .
Vox ’ s work is reaching more people than ever , but our distinctive brand of explanatory journalism takes resources — particularly during a pandemic and an economic @ @ @ @ @ @ @ constitute a donation , but it will enable our staff to continue to offer free articles , videos , and podcasts at the quality and volume that this moment requires .
Please consider making a contribution to Vox today .

Tributes are pouring in from political leaders and activists following the news late Friday night that Rep. John Lewis, the Georgia congressman and civil rights leader, has died.
In tweets and public statements, Democratic and Republican lawmakers, as well as current and former colleagues in the civil rights movement, praised Lewis’s decades of activism — a lifelong project he often described as “good trouble.”
The son of sharecroppers, Lewis was only 23 years old when he spoke at the March on Washington in 1963. He was among the “Big Six” of the 1960s civil rights movement, a group led by Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr. that planned the march, and was its last surviving member.
He was among the protesters beaten by law enforcement during a 1965 march across the Edmund Pettus Bridge in Selma, Alabama, an incident that helped spur federal civil rights legislation, particularly the Voting Rights Act, passed later that year.
Described as “the conscience of Congress,” Lewis was elected to the body in 1986 as a Democrat in Atlanta. Over the course of his career, he opposed the Iraq War, protested for the rights of refugees and immigrants, and advocated for gun reform measures. Recently, he argued for President Donald Trump’s impeachment from the floor of the House of Representatives, and took part in anti-racism protests.
In December, Lewis announced he had stage 4 pancreatic cancer. In a statement at the time, he said he would continue working for his district, writing, “We still have many bridges to cross.”
As news of his death spread on Friday night and into Saturday, leaders across the political spectrum referred to that legacy of fighting as they offered their condolences in public statements and on social media.
House Speaker Nancy Pelosi issued a statement that said Lewis’s colleagues in Congress were “heartbroken.”
“May his memory be an inspiration that moves us all to, in the face of injustice, make ‘good trouble, necessary trouble,’” she said.
Former President Barack Obama, who honored Lewis with the Presidential Medal of Freedom in 2011, praised the congressman’s commitment to nonviolence in a statement published Saturday.
Lewis “loved this country so much that he risked his life and his blood so that it might live up to its promise,” Obama wrote. “And through the decades, he not only gave all of himself to the cause of freedom and justice, but inspired generations that followed to try to live up to his example.”
In a statement, Joe Biden, the presumptive Democratic presidential nominee, called Lewis “truly a one-of-a-kind, a moral compass who always knew where to point us and which direction to march.”
We are made in the image of God, and then there is John Lewis. He was truly one-of-a-kind, a moral compass who always knew where to point us and which direction to march. To John’s family, friends, staff, and constituents, Jill and I send you our love and prayers. — Joe Biden (@JoeBiden) July 18, 2020
Sen. Bernie Sanders (I-VT) praised Lewis’s lifelong commitment to collective activism, writing the lawmaker’s “courage helped transform this country.”
John Lewis inspired millions to fight for justice. His courage helped transform this country. He won’t ever be forgotten by those who believe America can change when the people stand together and demand it. Our thoughts are with his loved ones. — Bernie Sanders (@SenSanders) July 18, 2020
Keisha Lance Bottoms, the mayor of Atlanta, ordered the flags of City Hall to be flown half-mast in Lewis’s honor, calling him “the most brave of giants” in a tweet.
The most humble of heroes, the most brave of giants. @repjohnlewis loved unconditionally and called upon us all to be a better version of ourselves. He was my Congressman and my best example of true servant leadership. I am grateful for his life and the joy of having known him. pic.twitter.com/HC23WElOtV — Keisha Lance Bottoms (@KeishaBottoms) July 18, 2020
Flags will similarly be lowered at the US Capitol in Lewis’s honor, and at the White House.
President Donald Trump had not yet issued a statement about Lewis on Saturday morning, but in a proclamation, Trump stated that the act was “a mark of respect for the memory and longstanding public service” of Lewis.
The proclamation means that all flags at public buildings, military posts, naval stations and vessels, and at all United States embassies, consulates, and facilities abroad, will remain at half-mast throughout Saturday.
Although Lewis was a lifelong Democrat, many Republicans, including some with whom Lewis had sparred in Congress — some who had opposed Lewis’s work as an activist — also shared their thoughts.
Former President George W. Bush, whose first inauguration Lewis skipped, and who later joined Lewis on the Edmund Pettus Bridge for the 50th anniversary of Bloody Sunday, said he was mourning Lewis’s death.
“As a young man marching for equality in Selma, Alabama, John answered brutal violence with courageous hope,” Bush said in a statement. “And throughout his career as a civil rights leader and public servant, he worked to make our country a more perfect union. America can best honor John’s memory by continuing his journey toward liberty and justice for all.”
Senate Majority Leader Mitch McConnell (R-KY) issued a statement about Lewis’s death that called him “a pioneering civil rights leader who put his life on the line to fight racism, promote equal rights, and bring our nation into greater alignment with its founding principles.”
My statement on the passing of Congressman John Lewis: pic.twitter.com/sFuU8cqPc8 — Leader McConnell (@senatemajldr) July 18, 2020
Critics responded to McConnell’s statement by noting that one of the causes for which Lewis shed blood, the Voting Rights Act, has been defanged, and that McConnell has so far declined to back legislation meant to restore key portions of it.
Sen. Mitt Romney (R-UT) called Lewis a man of “unwavering principle, unassailable character, penetrating purpose, and heartfelt compassion.”
With the passing of John Lewis, America has lost not only a man of history, but a man for our season; O how we need such men of unwavering principle, unassailable character, penetrating purpose, and heartfelt compassion. — Mitt Romney (@MittRomney) July 18, 2020
Sen. Tim Scott, the Senate’s only African American Republican, said Lewis had welcomed him to Congress with “open arms” after his 2011 election.
“He was a giant among men; his life and legacy will continue to serve as an example for the generations to come,” Scott tweeted. “I am encouraged by his courage, determination, and perseverance, characteristics that we can all try to emulate — especially in the wake of current events.”
I am deeply saddened by the passing of my good friend, @repjohnlewis. I’m grateful for his encouragement during my tenure in Congress. He welcomed me with open arms when I came to the House in 2011. — Tim Scott (@SenatorTimScott) July 18, 2020
I am encouraged by his courage, determination, and perseverance, characteristics that we can all try to emulate – especially in the wake of current events. My prayers are with the Lewis family during this time. — Tim Scott (@SenatorTimScott) July 18, 2020
The tributes reflected the trajectory of Lewis’s career, from Alabama-born activist to Georgia politician.
Fellow Georgia lawmakers speaking in Lewis’s honor included Sens. David Perdue and Kelly Loeffler, both Republicans, and Stacey Abrams, a Democrat. Former President Jimmy Carter also had praise for Lewis.
“He made an indelible mark on history through his quest to make our nation more just,” Carter, who appointed Lewis the associate director of ACTION, a federal volunteer agency, in 1977, wrote. “Everything he did, he did in a spirit of love. All Americans, regardless of race or religion, owe John Lewis a debt of gratitude.”
Other civil rights leaders praised a friend and comrade.
“My friend, role model, and activist extraordinaire has passed,” Rev. Al Sharpton wrote. “Congressman John Lewis taught us how to be an activist. He changed the world without hate, rancor or arrogance. A rare and great man.”
My friend, role model, and activist extraordinaire has passed. Congressman John Lewis taught us how to be an activist. He changed the world without hate, rancor or arrogance. A rare and great man. Rest in Power and may God finally give you peace. #RIPJohnLewis pic.twitter.com/uQY48LoFzx — Reverend Al Sharpton (@TheRevAl) July 18, 2020
And Rev. Jesse Jackson, Sr., said Lewis “personifies a New Testament prophet.”
Sharing my reflections on the passing of @repjohnlewis. Rest in heavenly peace. #GoodTrouble. pic.twitter.com/jcA6OPm7Eh — Rev Jesse Jackson Sr (@RevJJackson) July 18, 2020
Dr. King’s children, Bernice King and Martin Luther King III, also praised their father’s colleague.
“Farewell, sir. You did, indeed, fight the good fight and get into a lot of good trouble. You served God and humanity well,” wrote Bernice King, while her brother called Lewis “an American treasure.”
John Lewis was an American treasure.
He gave a voice to the voiceless, and he reminded each of us that the most powerful nonviolent tool is the vote.
Our hearts feel empty without our friend, but we find comfort knowing that he is free at last. — Martin Luther King III (@OfficialMLK3) July 18, 2020
Funeral information for Lewis has not yet been shared, and public tributes of the kind that celebrated the life of fellow activist and Congressman Elijah Cummings after his death in October are unlikely during the coronavirus pandemic.
Notably absent among the immediate outpouring of tributes was a statement from President Trump, who frequently ridiculed Lewis. Lewis skipped Trump’s 2017 inauguration, saying he considered the election to be illegitimate, and Trump has attacked Lewis in tweets, calling him “all talk, talk, talk - no action.”
Although Trump himself did not release a statement Saturday morning, his press secretary Kayleigh McEnany tweeted a tribute, writing that “We hold his family in our prayers, as we remember Rep. John Lewis’ incredible contributions to our country.”


vox--2020-07-18--John Lewis’s graphic memoir trilogy, March, tells the story of a lifetime of results and actions

In 2017 , over the Martin Luther King Jr. holiday weekend , President-elect Donald Trump started a Twitter war with civil rights hero and Congress member John Lewis .
“ All talk , talk , talk - no action or results , ” Trump wrote of Lewis , after Lewis said that he did not consider Trump to be a legitimate president .
“ Sad !
” But Lewis achieved monumental results over his career , both in government and as a civil rights protester .
To prove it , you don ’ t have to look any further than @ @ @ @ @ @ @ of graphic memoirs written by Lewis and his staffer Andrew Aydin , illustrated by the award-winning graphic artist Nate Powell .
Books one and two were released in 2013 and 2015 , and the third volume came out this August .
March chronicles Lewis ’ s long history in the civil rights movement , detailing how he became one of its so-called Big Six leaders .
But it starts early .
In book one , set in the 1950s , we meet young Lewis , the son of share-croppers , dreaming of preaching @ @ @ @ @ @ @ and practicing baptisms on his parents ’ chickens .
Lewis went to college in Nashville , where he began to attend Jim Lawson ’ s workshops on nonviolent protest .
In March , the workshops look harrowing : Participants alternate screaming racial slurs and threats at one another , their shadowy faces dominating the panels of each page as spittle flies from their mouths .
“ We tried to dehumanize each other , ” says the caption .
“ We needed to see how each of us would react under stress.
” But @ @ @ @ @ @ @ Participants studied a comic book called Martin Luther King and the Montgomery Story , which outlines King ’ s strategy of nonviolent action as a tool for desegregation .
It was his experience with this comic , Lewis says , that led him to agree to write his own story as a graphic novel when Aydin approached him with the idea — and he hopes that March , like The Montgomery Story , will teach a new generation about the power of nonviolent protest .
On every page of every volume , March @ @ @ @ @ @ @ violence and oppression .
It is unflinching in its depiction of the rage and brutality of the racist opposition Lewis encounters ; the second volume features a particularly memorable scene where a little blond boy grins and curls his fingers like claws while an adult voice booms from above , “ That ’ s my boy .
Git him !
Them eyes — git them eyes !
” Over the course of his career , Lewis has been beaten bloody , hospitalized , and arrested multiple times , culminating in 1965 ’ s @ @ @ @ @ @ @ to lead protesters across the Edmund Pettus Bridge in a march from Selma to Montgomery , only to be viciously attacked by state troopers and police officers .
Through it all , Lewis remained stoic and unresponsive , refusing to react to violence with violence .
This summer ’ s gun control sit-in on the floor of the House recalls a much earlier part of Lewis ’ s career : the sit-ins in Nashville that form the climax of March ’ s first volume .
In 1960 , Lewis ’ s Nashville Student @ @ @ @ @ @ @ a series of “ test sit-ins ” — asking segregated lunch counters for service , then politely leaving once it was established that the lunch counter would not fulfill that request — when the famous Greensboro Woolworth ’ s sit-in took place .
Four black students sat down at a Woolworth ’ s in North Carolina and refused to get up until they were served .
The sit-in made national headlines .
Lewis decided his group had done enough testing .
A week after the Greensboro sit-ins began , the Nashville Student Movement @ @ @ @ @ @ @ does beget violence , ” declares one of March ’ s captions , as a group of young white men attempt to physically wrest Lewis and his fellow demonstrators off their stools , “ but the opposite is just as true .
Fury spends itself pretty quickly when there ’ s no fury facing it .
The beating subsided.
” Over the course of the Nashville Student Movement ’ s sit-ins as portrayed in March , Lewis and his fellow protestors were beaten , drenched with condiments , sprayed with fire hoses , @ @ @ @ @ @ @ were arrested multiple times .
The NAACP disavowed them as a group of young radicals .
But they persevered , and they succeeded .
Segregation became illegal .
In 1964 , the Civil Rights Act was passed .
If Trump wants to see someone with action and results , he doesn ’ t have to look any closer than John Lewis .
Every day at Vox , we aim to answer your most important questions and provide you , and our audience around the world , with information that has the power to @ @ @ @ @ @ @ been more vital than it is in this moment : to empower you through understanding .
Vox ’ s work is reaching more people than ever , but our distinctive brand of explanatory journalism takes resources — particularly during a pandemic and an economic downturn .
Your financial contribution will not constitute a donation , but it will enable our staff to continue to offer free articles , videos , and podcasts at the quality and volume that this moment requires .
Please consider making a contribution to Vox today .

In 2017, over the Martin Luther King Jr. holiday weekend, President-elect Donald Trump started a Twitter war with civil rights hero and Congress member John Lewis. “All talk, talk, talk - no action or results,” Trump wrote of Lewis, after Lewis said that he did not consider Trump to be a legitimate president. “Sad!”
But Lewis achieved monumental results over his career, both in government and as a civil rights protester. To prove it, you don’t have to look any further than his books.
March is a series of graphic memoirs written by Lewis and his staffer Andrew Aydin, illustrated by the award-winning graphic artist Nate Powell. Books one and two were released in 2013 and 2015, and the third volume came out this August.
March chronicles Lewis’s long history in the civil rights movement, detailing how he became one of its so-called Big Six leaders. But it starts early. In book one, set in the 1950s, we meet young Lewis, the son of share-croppers, dreaming of preaching the social gospel like Martin Luther King and practicing baptisms on his parents’ chickens.
Lewis went to college in Nashville, where he began to attend Jim Lawson’s workshops on nonviolent protest. In March, the workshops look harrowing: Participants alternate screaming racial slurs and threats at one another, their shadowy faces dominating the panels of each page as spittle flies from their mouths. “We tried to dehumanize each other,” says the caption. “We needed to see how each of us would react under stress.”
But the workshops also used gentler tactics. Participants studied a comic book called Martin Luther King and the Montgomery Story, which outlines King’s strategy of nonviolent action as a tool for desegregation. It was his experience with this comic, Lewis says, that led him to agree to write his own story as a graphic novel when Aydin approached him with the idea — and he hopes that March, like The Montgomery Story, will teach a new generation about the power of nonviolent protest.
On every page of every volume, March insists on nonviolence in the face of violence and oppression. It is unflinching in its depiction of the rage and brutality of the racist opposition Lewis encounters; the second volume features a particularly memorable scene where a little blond boy grins and curls his fingers like claws while an adult voice booms from above, “That’s my boy. Git him! Them eyes — git them eyes!”
Over the course of his career, Lewis has been beaten bloody, hospitalized, and arrested multiple times, culminating in 1965’s infamous Bloody Sunday, when Lewis attempted to lead protesters across the Edmund Pettus Bridge in a march from Selma to Montgomery, only to be viciously attacked by state troopers and police officers. Through it all, Lewis remained stoic and unresponsive, refusing to react to violence with violence.
This summer’s gun control sit-in on the floor of the House recalls a much earlier part of Lewis’s career: the sit-ins in Nashville that form the climax of March’s first volume.
In 1960, Lewis’s Nashville Student Movement was in the process of executing a series of “test sit-ins” — asking segregated lunch counters for service, then politely leaving once it was established that the lunch counter would not fulfill that request — when the famous Greensboro Woolworth’s sit-in took place. Four black students sat down at a Woolworth’s in North Carolina and refused to get up until they were served. The sit-in made national headlines.
Lewis decided his group had done enough testing. A week after the Greensboro sit-ins began, the Nashville Student Movement started holding their own.
Nashville’s white community did not respond peacefully.
“Violence does beget violence,” declares one of March’s captions, as a group of young white men attempt to physically wrest Lewis and his fellow demonstrators off their stools, “but the opposite is just as true. Fury spends itself pretty quickly when there’s no fury facing it. The beating subsided.”
Over the course of the Nashville Student Movement’s sit-ins as portrayed in March, Lewis and his fellow protestors were beaten, drenched with condiments, sprayed with fire hoses, and even gassed with insecticides. They were arrested multiple times. The NAACP disavowed them as a group of young radicals.
But they persevered, and they succeeded. Segregation became illegal. In 1964, the Civil Rights Act was passed.
If Trump wants to see someone with action and results, he doesn’t have to look any closer than John Lewis.


vox--2020-07-18--Rep. John Lewis, civil rights leader and moral center of Congress, has died at 80

Rep. John Lewis of Georgia , the civil rights leader who served in the House of Representatives for over 30 years and was called “ the conscience of the Congress , ” died Friday at the age of 80 .
The lawmaker — who began his struggle for civil rights at 18 during a lunch counter sit-in in Nashville , Tennessee — announced he had stage 4 pancreatic cancer in December 2019 .
At the time , he promised not to let the diagnosis stop him , saying , “ I have been in some kind of fight — for @ @ @ @ @ @ @ — for nearly my entire life .
I have never faced a fight quite like the one I have now.
” And he did not stop , from making impassioned arguments for President Donald Trump ’ s impeachment from the floor of the House of Representatives , to taking part in the anti-racism and anti-police brutality protests that have swept the world , visiting Washington , DC ’ s Black Lives Matter Plaza , and encouraging protesters around the world “ to stand up , to speak up , to speak out , @ @ @ @ @ @ @ ‘ good trouble.
’ ” Lewis dedicated his life to improving America through “ good trouble ” Born into a system of strict segregation to sharecroppers near Troy , Alabama , in 1940 , Lewis was taught by his parents to avoid interactions with the police , and , as he told the Southern Oral History Program , “ you just don ’ t play around or mess with the law.
” And Lewis ’ s family would often tell him there was nothing to be done about the racial injustice that permeated @ @ @ @ @ @ @ youth — that it was just something he had to live with .
As Lewis said at the groundbreaking ceremony for Washington , DC ’ s Martin Luther King Jr. memorial , “ I would ask my mother , my father , my grandparents and great-grandparents , “ Why segregation ?
Why racial discrimination ?
” And they would say , “ That ’ s the way it is .
Don ’ t get in trouble .
Don ’ t get in the way.
” But Lewis came to believe getting into trouble @ @ @ @ @ @ @ — messing with “ the law ” was a powerful means of effecting change .
While a student at Nashville ’ s American Baptist Theological Seminary in the late 1950s , Lewis began to learn about nonviolent organizing .
And in November 1959 , he took part in his first sit-in , an attempt to force Nashville lunch counters to integrate .
Those Nashville sit-ins continued in 1960 , and intensified following the Greensboro sit-ins in February 1960 ; Lewis described being beaten as he and his fellow students sat quietly , and @ @ @ @ @ @ @ family .
It was not his last arrest — he and his fellow activists were ultimately successful in desegregating Nashville ’ s lunch counters — and Lewis moved on to other battles throughout the United States , doing work that led to more than 40 arrests .
The arrests did not stop him , nor did being beaten bloody , burnt , and left with broken bones .
Instead , Lewis was everywhere he was needed , volunteering to be one of the original Freedom Riders , the activists who staged mobile protests @ @ @ @ @ @ @ risking his life to use bathrooms and parks and lunch counters reserved for whites ; and traveling across the South to register Black voters .
During the 1960s , Lewis helped create , then lead the Student Nonviolent Coordinating Committee ( SNCC ) , and was one of the organizers of the March on Washington for Jobs and Freedom in 1963 .
There , he delivered a fiery address , telling the nation , “ We shall splinter the segregated South into a thousand pieces and put them together in the image of @ @ @ @ @ @ @ : ‘ Wake up , America .
Wake up !
’ For we can not stop , and we will not and can not be patient.
” Lewis was convinced to tone down the address , removing pointed criticism of the Kennedy administration ’ s civil rights failings and a promise that Black Americans would “ march through the South , through the heart of Dixie , the way Sherman did.
” Though those words were removed , Lewis made good on that promise — perhaps nowhere more so than in Selma , @ @ @ @ @ @ @ of protesters across the Edmund Pettus Bridge in 1965 .
The protesters had assembled for a march to Montgomery , Alabama , to demand voting rights .
They were stopped at the bridge by about 150 members of law enforcement , who ordered them to end their efforts .
The protesters did not .
One minute after the order was issued , Lewis and the other demonstrators were attacked — with tear gas , whips , clubs , and barbed wire .
More than 50 people were injured .
Lewis suffered a fractured @ @ @ @ @ @ @ tried to gather his bearings and struggle to his feet .
He testified about the day — now known as Bloody Sunday — one week later .
Images of the beatings , including a photograph of Lewis being hit on the head by an officer , were seen around the world ; video of it was broadcast on television .
And public pressure created by the brutality led to the federal government enacting the Voting Rights Act , a measure that empowered Black voters , and helped bring Lewis into government .
After @ @ @ @ @ @ @ Carmichael — who advocated for a more confrontational approach to civil rights organizing — Lewis focused on executing the text of the Voting Rights Act , working to register minorities to vote before being called upon by former President Jimmy Carter to lead a federal volunteer agency , ACTION .
It was these roles that led him into politics , beginning with the city council in Atlanta , and then onward to the US House of Representatives , where he dedicated himself to bringing “ good trouble ” to Washington .
Lewis was @ @ @ @ @ @ @ as the moral center of Congress .
In recent years , he was seen as an elder statesman who tried to hold his colleagues accountable on issues like gun violence ( for instance , he led a congressional sit-in calling for gun reform in 2016 ) and even impeachment .
He told lawmakers in a rousing speech last fall that although he had been slow to back an impeachment inquiry , the time had come to launch one , arguing , “ to delay or to do otherwise would betray the foundation of @ @ @ @ @ @ @ praised this activism as a testament to his character ; House Speaker Nancy Pelosi wrote on Saturday that the lawmaker was “ a titan of the civil rights movement whose goodness , faith and bravery transformed our nation.
” And former President Barack Obama described Lewis as a man who made an “ enormous impact on the history of this country , ” and who served “ as a beacon in that long journey towards a more perfect union.
” “ I first met John when I was in law school , and @ @ @ @ @ @ @ one of my heroes , ” Obama wrote .
“ Years later , when I was elected a U.S .
Senator , I told him that I stood on his shoulders .
When I was elected President of the United States , I hugged him on the inauguration stand before I was sworn in and told him I was only there because of the sacrifices he made.
” Lewis continued making those sacrifices until his death , working to connect the activism of his youth to the issues of the present .
He @ @ @ @ @ @ @ , using those occasions to remind his fellow lawmakers — and Americans in general — that the struggle for voting rights is not over .
In fact , with the Supreme Court ’ s partial negation of the Voting Rights Act and measures like the court ’ s recent ruling allowing for poll taxes in Florida , the testimony Lewis gave in 1971 before the House Judiciary Committee about Black voters remains germane .
“ We can not allow ourselves to be duped into believing that , in these so-called new and changing @ @ @ @ @ @ @ no longer needed , ” Lewis said then .
“ The figures of unregistered black voters indicate there is still a need for active enforcement of the Voting Rights Act — active enforcement which we have not seen in some time.
” Even in his final days , Lewis did not give up his advocacy .
He spent his last weeks visiting the site of anti-racism protests in Washington , DC , and connecting to a new generation of activists .
“ It was very moving , very moving to see hundreds of @ @ @ @ @ @ @ and around the world take to the streets — to speak up , to speak out , to get into what I call ‘ good trouble , ’ ” Lewis told Gayle King on CBS This Morning in June .
“ There will be no turning back.
” Every day at Vox , we aim to answer your most important questions and provide you , and our audience around the world , with information that has the power to save lives .
Our mission has never been more vital than it is in @ @ @ @ @ @ @ understanding .
Vox ’ s work is reaching more people than ever , but our distinctive brand of explanatory journalism takes resources — particularly during a pandemic and an economic downturn .
Your financial contribution will not constitute a donation , but it will enable our staff to continue to offer free articles , videos , and podcasts at the quality and volume that this moment requires .
Please consider making a contribution to Vox today .

Rep. John Lewis of Georgia, the civil rights leader who served in the House of Representatives for over 30 years and was called “the conscience of the Congress,” died Friday at the age of 80.
The lawmaker — who began his struggle for civil rights at 18 during a lunch counter sit-in in Nashville, Tennessee — announced he had stage 4 pancreatic cancer in December 2019.
At the time, he promised not to let the diagnosis stop him, saying, “I have been in some kind of fight — for freedom, equality, basic human rights — for nearly my entire life. I have never faced a fight quite like the one I have now.”
And he did not stop, from making impassioned arguments for President Donald Trump’s impeachment from the floor of the House of Representatives, to taking part in the anti-racism and anti-police brutality protests that have swept the world, visiting Washington, DC’s Black Lives Matter Plaza, and encouraging protesters around the world “to stand up, to speak up, to speak out, to do what I call getting in ‘good trouble.’”
Lewis dedicated his life to improving America through “good trouble”
Getting into good trouble defined Lewis’s life.
Born into a system of strict segregation to sharecroppers near Troy, Alabama, in 1940, Lewis was taught by his parents to avoid interactions with the police, and, as he told the Southern Oral History Program, “you just don’t play around or mess with the law.”
And Lewis’s family would often tell him there was nothing to be done about the racial injustice that permeated every facet of American life in his youth — that it was just something he had to live with.
As Lewis said at the groundbreaking ceremony for Washington, DC’s Martin Luther King Jr. memorial, “I would ask my mother, my father, my grandparents and great-grandparents, “Why segregation? Why racial discrimination?” And they would say, “That’s the way it is. Don’t get in trouble. Don’t get in the way.”
Related John Lewis and the beginning of an era
But Lewis came to believe getting into trouble wasn’t necessarily a bad thing — messing with “the law” was a powerful means of effecting change.
While a student at Nashville’s American Baptist Theological Seminary in the late 1950s, Lewis began to learn about nonviolent organizing. And in November 1959, he took part in his first sit-in, an attempt to force Nashville lunch counters to integrate.
Those Nashville sit-ins continued in 1960, and intensified following the Greensboro sit-ins in February 1960; Lewis described being beaten as he and his fellow students sat quietly, and he was eventually arrested, angering his family.
It was not his last arrest — he and his fellow activists were ultimately successful in desegregating Nashville’s lunch counters — and Lewis moved on to other battles throughout the United States, doing work that led to more than 40 arrests.
The arrests did not stop him, nor did being beaten bloody, burnt, and left with broken bones. Instead, Lewis was everywhere he was needed, volunteering to be one of the original Freedom Riders, the activists who staged mobile protests on segregated buses across interstate lines; risking his life to use bathrooms and parks and lunch counters reserved for whites; and traveling across the South to register Black voters.
During the 1960s, Lewis helped create, then lead the Student Nonviolent Coordinating Committee (SNCC), and was one of the organizers of the March on Washington for Jobs and Freedom in 1963.
There, he delivered a fiery address, telling the nation, “We shall splinter the segregated South into a thousand pieces and put them together in the image of God and democracy. We must say: ‘Wake up, America. Wake up!’ For we cannot stop, and we will not and cannot be patient.”
Lewis was convinced to tone down the address, removing pointed criticism of the Kennedy administration’s civil rights failings and a promise that Black Americans would “march through the South, through the heart of Dixie, the way Sherman did.”
Though those words were removed, Lewis made good on that promise — perhaps nowhere more so than in Selma, Alabama, when he led a group of protesters across the Edmund Pettus Bridge in 1965. The protesters had assembled for a march to Montgomery, Alabama, to demand voting rights. They were stopped at the bridge by about 150 members of law enforcement, who ordered them to end their efforts.
The protesters did not. One minute after the order was issued, Lewis and the other demonstrators were attacked — with tear gas, whips, clubs, and barbed wire.
More than 50 people were injured. Lewis suffered a fractured skull, and was beaten as he tried to gather his bearings and struggle to his feet.
He testified about the day — now known as Bloody Sunday — one week later. Images of the beatings, including a photograph of Lewis being hit on the head by an officer, were seen around the world; video of it was broadcast on television. And public pressure created by the brutality led to the federal government enacting the Voting Rights Act, a measure that empowered Black voters, and helped bring Lewis into government.
After he was replaced at SNCC by Stokely Carmichael — who advocated for a more confrontational approach to civil rights organizing — Lewis focused on executing the text of the Voting Rights Act, working to register minorities to vote before being called upon by former President Jimmy Carter to lead a federal volunteer agency, ACTION.
It was these roles that led him into politics, beginning with the city council in Atlanta, and then onward to the US House of Representatives, where he dedicated himself to bringing “good trouble” to Washington.
Lewis was the conscience of Congress
Lewis was regarded as the moral center of Congress.
In recent years, he was seen as an elder statesman who tried to hold his colleagues accountable on issues like gun violence (for instance, he led a congressional sit-in calling for gun reform in 2016) and even impeachment. He told lawmakers in a rousing speech last fall that although he had been slow to back an impeachment inquiry, the time had come to launch one, arguing, “to delay or to do otherwise would betray the foundation of our democracy.”
Lewis’s colleagues praised this activism as a testament to his character; House Speaker Nancy Pelosi wrote on Saturday that the lawmaker was “a titan of the civil rights movement whose goodness, faith and bravery transformed our nation.”
And former President Barack Obama described Lewis as a man who made an “enormous impact on the history of this country,” and who served “as a beacon in that long journey towards a more perfect union.”
“I first met John when I was in law school, and I told him then that he was one of my heroes,” Obama wrote. “Years later, when I was elected a U.S. Senator, I told him that I stood on his shoulders. When I was elected President of the United States, I hugged him on the inauguration stand before I was sworn in and told him I was only there because of the sacrifices he made.”
Lewis continued making those sacrifices until his death, working to connect the activism of his youth to the issues of the present. He has led yearly commemorations of Bloody Sunday, using those occasions to remind his fellow lawmakers — and Americans in general — that the struggle for voting rights is not over. In fact, with the Supreme Court’s partial negation of the Voting Rights Act and measures like the court’s recent ruling allowing for poll taxes in Florida, the testimony Lewis gave in 1971 before the House Judiciary Committee about Black voters remains germane.
“We cannot allow ourselves to be duped into believing that, in these so-called new and changing times, the Voting Rights Act is no longer needed,” Lewis said then. “The figures of unregistered black voters indicate there is still a need for active enforcement of the Voting Rights Act — active enforcement which we have not seen in some time.”
Even in his final days, Lewis did not give up his advocacy. He spent his last weeks visiting the site of anti-racism protests in Washington, DC, and connecting to a new generation of activists.
“Freedom is the continuous action we all must take, and each generation must do its part to create an even more fair, more just society.” Congressman John Lewis
I have been moved by his words & actions, and I’m humbled that he visited #BlackLivesMatter Plaza. The work goes on... pic.twitter.com/x7i53UuQIz — Muriel Bowser (@MurielBowser) June 7, 2020
“It was very moving, very moving to see hundreds of thousands of people from all over America and around the world take to the streets — to speak up, to speak out, to get into what I call ‘good trouble,’” Lewis told Gayle King on CBS This Morning in June. “There will be no turning back.”


vox--2020-07-19--I am Native American and a former football player. Our history is much darker than racist mascots.

I come from Chatsiks-si-Chatsiks and Chahta communities in Oklahoma .
I also was a safety for the Pomona-Pitzer college football team in California .
This juxtaposition is not rare .
There is a long history of entanglement , violence , and complicated feelings between Indigenous peoples and American football .
On Monday , I celebrated as Washington , DC ’ s NFL team announced their plan to change its name and mascot from a racist caricature that has been deeply offensive to me and Indigenous communities across the country .
Then , on Thursday , 15 female employees of the @ @ @ @ @ @ @ harassment in a Washington Post report .
The team , and the NFL at large , is corroded from the inside .
While the retirement of the Washington name culminates decades of activism from Indigenous peoples across the country , it is also hard knowing that this change — primarily motivated by the loss of financial sponsorships like FedEx — has taken so long to secure .
It also reflects the most-highlighted role that Indigenous peoples have played in America ’ s favorite sport — as mascots , rather than actual people .
@ @ @ @ @ @ @ All Americans makes the argument that America ’ s fascination with its own brand of football began at roughly the same time as the closing of the Western frontier .
The question of conquest had largely been settled , so what would satiate this desire for Manifest Destiny and the glory it brought upper-class young men , often in America ’ s oldest and most prestigious universities ?
A game that is also violent , made up by schoolboys , seemed as good a plan as any .
“ It was as though @ @ @ @ @ @ @ to do with itself once the wilderness was subdued , had hit on football as an answer , ” says Jenkins .
At the same time , the losers of the Indian Wars , my ancestors , found themselves becoming acquainted with a new form of American retribution — the educational system .
The National Native American Boarding School Healing Coalition estimates that between 1869 and the late 1960s , hundreds of thousands of Indian children were taken out of their communities , away from their families and placed in residential schools run @ @ @ @ @ @ @ While these schools were tasked with the care of Indigenous youth , the coalition notes these institutions were sites of significant physical , sexual , cultural , and spiritual abuse .
The violence of war against Indigenous peoples had not gone away .
It had been institutionalized .
Yet , like generations of ancestors before them , those Indian children would resist — in the classroom , in their communities , and for some of them , they would resist on the football field .
Those boarding school teams , in particular the @ @ @ @ @ @ @ are the stuff of legend .
In the early 1900s , teams from Carlisle — with players ranging in age from 12 to 25 , according to Jenkins — would go on to defeat nearly every major American power in the game , including Harvard , Penn , and Minnesota .
The 1912 team would defeat Army , replaying the conflicts of a generation before .
Famously , before the game , Carlisle ’ s coach , Glenn “ Pop ” Warner , inspired the team by telling them to “ go read @ @ @ @ @ @ @ story .
I like the idea that a group of boys took a game not made for them and seized its consciousness from nowhere .
I like the idea that in doing so they grabbed a small temporal sense of agency as nearly everything else was grabbed from them .
I like the feeling of carrying that tradition — the grandson of a former cornerback and a boarding school survivor .
In my own playing career , my father recounted this history to me often , reminding me that football , deep in @ @ @ @ @ @ @ .
An Indigenous game .
I have no doubt that this was primarily meant to inspire me before playing .
But I also think it was a small way of trying to preserve a history knowable to him .
A series of recollections that would help him walk easier in a sport , and a society , often indifferent or worse to our existence .
This makes my appreciation of the game complex .
I love football .
It has given me an outlet of agency .
It has made me feel supported @ @ @ @ @ @ @ dislocates Indigenous peoples .
It connects me to my family and our ancestral home in a unique way .
Football has made an indelible mark on my life .
In my own playing career , my father recounted this history to me often , reminding me that football , deep in its American core , was our game .
An Indigenous game .
But as my body tells me after years of the game , football , in its basest form , is ordered violence .
“ Of the games I know , @ @ @ @ @ @ @ over the border and becoming war pure and simple , ” says Mark Edmundson , author of Why Football Matters .
It makes sense then that survivors of boarding schools took so easily to the game .
To find a space in which that violence could become triumph must have been a salve in hell .
But finding a respite in this way is also not the same as healing this history .
The outcomes of Native youth tell us as much .
A 2014 White House Report on Native Youth notes that @ @ @ @ @ @ @ three times the national average .
The only comparable demographic in this regard are Iraq War veterans .
The story of Carlisle tells a more appropriate picture of the involvement of Indigenous peoples in American football .
Often painted as lifeless and dull caricatures , we have been objects of fervor , desire , or guilt .
But rarely are we allowed to be characters of our own humanity .
If this was the case , perhaps the real Indigenous peoples who helped shape the game would be more well-known than a racist @ @ @ @ @ @ @ would be more appreciated than they are .
I ’ m thankful today that the name has changed .
For a franchise in America ’ s most popular sport to recognize its harm and course correct is valuable .
But this was not done out of an elevation of moral or ethical conduct .
There has been no acknowledgement that the origins of the game itself are a part of football ’ s racist involvement in Indigenous history .
At some point , the financial cost of maintaining the name outweighed keeping it @ @ @ @ @ @ @ worth noting that the team ’ s financial consideration has only come about because of the protests against police violence on Black Americans .
But if there is a football season this fall , there will still be racist mascots in the game .
There will still be worrying rates of chronic injuries to a largely Black player base .
There will be no guarantee that the stardom afforded those Black players will protect them from brutality off the field .
I believe that we , as a football collective , and as @ @ @ @ @ @ @ wonder if we are transforming and healing .
Football has been a notable part of my life and the lives of my family .
But I can not pretend that it does not bring out some of our worst communal instincts .
So I have to ask , when the games are played and we turn off our televisions and collectively look at our reflections on the screen , do we like what we see ?
Rory Taylor is a Ckiri/Chahta journalist covering Indigenous politics , policy , and culture .
He currently @ @ @ @ @ @ @ Orākei in Tāmaki Makaurau , where he is pursuing a master ’ s degree in Indigenous studies at Te Whare Wānanga o Tāmaki Makaurau .
Every day at Vox , we aim to answer your most important questions and provide you , and our audience around the world , with information that has the power to save lives .
Our mission has never been more vital than it is in this moment : to empower you through understanding .
Vox ’ s work is reaching more people than ever , but our distinctive @ @ @ @ @ @ @ particularly during a pandemic and an economic downturn .
Your financial contribution will not constitute a donation , but it will enable our staff to continue to offer free articles , videos , and podcasts at the quality and volume that this moment requires .
Please consider making a contribution to Vox today .

I come from Chatsiks-si-Chatsiks and Chahta communities in Oklahoma. I also was a safety for the Pomona-Pitzer college football team in California. This juxtaposition is not rare. There is a long history of entanglement, violence, and complicated feelings between Indigenous peoples and American football.
On Monday, I celebrated as Washington, DC’s NFL team announced its plan to change its name and mascot from a racist caricature that has been deeply offensive to me and Indigenous communities across the country. Then, on Thursday, 15 female employees of the team came forward with accusations of sexual harassment in a Washington Post report. The team, and the NFL at large, is corroded from the inside.
While the retirement of the Washington name culminates decades of activism from Indigenous peoples across the country, it is also hard knowing that this change — primarily motivated by the loss of financial sponsorships like FedEx — has taken so long to secure. It also reflects the most-highlighted role that Indigenous peoples have played in America’s favorite sport — as mascots rather than actual people.
Sally Jenkins’s book The Real All Americans makes the argument that America’s fascination with its own brand of football began at roughly the same time as the closing of the Western frontier. The question of conquest had largely been settled, so what would satiate this desire for Manifest Destiny and the glory it brought upper-class young men, often in America’s oldest and most prestigious universities? A game that is also violent, made up by schoolboys, seemed as good a plan as any. “It was as though America, at a loss for what to do with itself once the wilderness was subdued, had hit on football as an answer,” says Jenkins.
At the same time, the losers of the Indian Wars, my ancestors, found themselves becoming acquainted with a new form of American retribution: the educational system. The National Native American Boarding School Healing Coalition estimates that between 1869 and the late 1960s, hundreds of thousands of Indian children were taken out of their communities, away from their families, and placed in residential schools run by the federal government and churches. While these schools were tasked with the care of Indigenous youth, the coalition notes these institutions were sites of significant physical, sexual, cultural, and spiritual abuse. The violence of war against Indigenous peoples had not gone away. It had been institutionalized.
Yet, like generations of ancestors before them, those Indian children would resist — in the classroom, in their communities, and, for some of them, they would resist on the football field. Those boarding school teams, in particular the Carlisle Industrial Indian School in Pennsylvania, are the stuff of legend. In the early 1900s, teams from Carlisle — with players ranging in age from 12 to 25, according to Jenkins — would go on to defeat nearly every major American power in the game, including Harvard, Penn, and Minnesota. The 1912 team would defeat Army, replaying the conflicts of a generation before. Famously, before the game, Carlisle’s coach, Glenn “Pop” Warner, inspired the team by telling them to “go read their history books.”
I like this story. I like the idea that a group of boys took a game not made for them and seized its consciousness from nowhere. I like the idea that in doing so they grabbed a small temporal sense of agency as nearly everything else was grabbed from them. I like the feeling of carrying that tradition as the grandson of a former cornerback and a boarding school survivor.
In my own playing career, my father often recounted this history to me, reminding me that football, deep in its American core, was our game. An Indigenous game. I have no doubt that this was primarily meant to inspire me before playing. But I also think it was a small way of trying to preserve a history knowable to him, a series of recollections that would help him walk easier in a sport, and a society, often indifferent to our existence — or worse.
This makes my appreciation of the game complex. I love football. It has given me an outlet of agency. It has made me feel supported and secure in a world that readily dislocates Indigenous peoples. It connects me to my family and our ancestral home in a unique way. Football has made an indelible mark on my life.
In my own playing career, my father often recounted this history to me, reminding me that football, deep in its American core, was our game. An Indigenous game.
But as my body tells me after years of the game, football, in its basest form, is ordered violence. “Of the games I know, football comes closest to war without falling over the border and becoming war pure and simple,” says Mark Edmundson, author of Why Football Matters. It makes sense, then, that survivors of boarding schools took so easily to the game. To find a space in which that violence could become triumph must have been a salve in hell.
But finding a respite in this way is also not the same as healing this history. The outcomes of Native youth tell us as much. A 2014 White House Report on Native Youth notes that Native children have suicide and PTSD rates three times the national average. The only comparable demographic in this regard are Iraq War veterans.
The story of Carlisle tells a more appropriate picture of the involvement of Indigenous peoples in American football. Often painted as lifeless and dull caricatures, we have been objects of fervor, desire, or guilt. But rarely are we allowed to be characters of our own humanity. If this was the case, perhaps the real Indigenous peoples who helped shape the game would be more well-known than a racist mascot. Perhaps our very real conflicts would be more appreciated than they are.
I’m thankful today that the name has changed. For a franchise in America’s most popular sport to recognize its harm and perform a course correction is valuable. But this was not done out of an elevation of moral or ethical conduct. There has been no acknowledgement that the origins of the game itself are a part of football’s racist involvement in Indigenous history. At some point, the financial cost of maintaining the name outweighed keeping it. So it changed.
It is worth noting that the team’s financial consideration has only come about because of the protests against police violence on Black Americans. But if there is a football season this fall, there will still be racist mascots in the game. There will still be worrying rates of chronic injuries to a largely Black player base. There will be no guarantee that the stardom afforded those Black players will protect them from brutality off the field. I believe that we, as a football collective and as a nation, are reforming. I wonder if we are transforming and healing.
Football has been a notable part of my life and the lives of my family members. But I cannot pretend that it does not bring out some of our worst communal instincts. So I have to ask, after the games are played and we turn off our televisions and collectively look at our reflections on the screen, do we like what we see?
Rory Taylor is a Ckiri/Chahta journalist covering Indigenous politics, policy, and culture. He currently lives on the territory of Ngāti Whātua Orākei in Tāmaki Makaurau, where he is pursuing a master’s degree in Indigenous studies at Te Whare Wānanga o Tāmaki Makaurau.


vox--2020-07-19--5 activists on how they’re carrying Rep. John Lewis’s legacy forward

Rep. John Lewis , a Georgia congressman and icon of the civil rights movement , died Friday at the age of 80 .
Throughout his decades-long career , Lewis was known for his activism — from his roots as a Freedom Rider and firebrand organizer of the March on Washington , to the many times he was arrested , some as a member of the US House of Representatives .
In his time as a lawmaker , he became an advocate for LGBTQ rights , expanded freedoms for immigrants and refugees , and supported gun reform measures .
He continued @ @ @ @ @ @ @ just a month before he died of pancreatic cancer , he visited Washington , DC ’ s Black Lives Matter Plaza , one of many places reflecting the current wave of anti-racism protests sweeping the world .
He was known for encouraging people to become activists themselves , saying they should not hesitate to get in “ good trouble.
” And he inspired many to do just that .
Here , five activists reflect on what Lewis ’ s legacy meant to them , and how it may be carried forward .
Their @ @ @ @ @ @ @ , are below .
Tanya Washington , professor of law at Georgia State University and former director of the John Lewis Fellowship Program At 21 , he was one of the first Freedom Riders ; at 23 , he was the chairperson of SNCC , and helped organize the March on Washington , and at 25 , he was at the Selma protests .
I think it ’ s empowering for young people to recognize that their energy , their perspective is necessary .
It ’ s young people who moved the needle @ @ @ @ @ @ @ were college students , high school students .
Some were even younger than that — the kids who integrated schools after Brown v. Board were little school kids .
I think younger activists will draw from his legacy a sense of power and responsibility : Their contribution can begin right now .
Everyone quotes him saying , “ Get in good trouble.
” I think what that really has meant to me is to not be afraid to make decisions that are unpopular .
What other people might call trouble , through a @ @ @ @ @ @ @ It ’ s inspired me to take risks when I ’ m guided by my moral compass .
I definitely see [ his influence ] when I look at the Black Lives Matter movement , and I see the young people in the streets , risking their lives and their health to enforce democracy , to make sure that we have justice as part of our criminal legal system , and that we eradicate racism .
I see the same spirit that motivated John Lewis as a young person to get involved .
@ @ @ @ @ @ @ college to sign up to be a Freedom Rider , which is not going to end well , just in terms of the risk to life and limb that it entails .
But it was something he was willing to die for .
And I ’ m seeing that same commitment made by young people who have been protesting in opposition to the issues , racism , and xenophobia that are all too prevalent in society today .
I see that same spirit of youth activism , and that dedication and commitment .
@ @ @ @ @ @ @ loved about John Lewis is that he understood that equality is not divisible .
He wasn ’ t just fighting for equality and just for Black people , but for everyone .
Unless everyone can enjoy equality , equality doesn ’ t exist .
… I hope we will continue to see people working across intersectionality .
It ’ s not just Black people , it ’ s trans Black women , it ’ s poor Indigenous men , it ’ s people from the LGBTQ community .
All across the spectrum , @ @ @ @ @ @ @ , none of us are treated equally .
When he talked about the “ beloved community , ” he meant everybody .
He lived a life that set the example for how human beings can have an impact .
From very humble beginnings , he became an American hero .
I am so honored and humbled to have had a chance to work with him and to be inspired by his legacy .
And I ’ ll miss him .
Janai Nelson , associate director-counsel of the NAACP Legal Defense and Educational Fund @ @ @ @ @ @ @ underscored for me the power and the strength that it takes to do civil rights [ work ] , and really crystallized the role of Black people in shaping this nation on an ongoing basis , and forcing this country to live up to its ideals and to deliver on its promises .
It is truly by force that it happens — it ’ s by the force of will and stamina and strategy , on the part of people who have largely been nonviolent .
There ’ s a strength and power @ @ @ @ @ @ @ and he embodied that completely .
He was the epitome of that strength and power that could move mountains and destroy systems and force political hands , just through his tenacity and resolve and strategy .
And brilliance — he was absolutely brilliant .
When I look at the faces of protesters on the street today , I see John Lewis .
I see the Freedom Riders .
… When I see young people going up against police , in military gear , who will wantonly attack them , even though they are @ @ @ @ @ @ @ of assembly and freedom of speech , I see the bravery of people like John Lewis all over again .
He set an example of what it means to speak truth to power , to look evil in the face and not blink .
One [ way to carry forward his legacy ] is to continue the unfinished business of building this democracy by securing and protecting the right to vote on an equal basis for all people , and that requires the passage of the Voting Rights Advancement Act , which would @ @ @ @ @ @ @ life on the line for ( the Voting Rights Act of 1965 ) , and protect the right to vote during a period of history when it is under severe and pernicious attack .
And the other policy area is the protection of protesters : Ensuring that the methodology that he used to great success is one that continues to be among the tools and the arsenal of people who want transformative change .
If we can not protect protesters — if we allow law enforcement and white supremacists to attack and interfere @ @ @ @ @ @ @ ’ t learned anything from the history of people like John Lewis .
It ’ s just remarkable to me how loving and upbeat and kind he remained , even toward his worst enemies .
… Every American owes a debt to John Lewis for his sacrifice and his lifetime of service .
He never seemed embittered by the fact that , even at 80 , he still had to struggle for the rights that he fought for 55 years ago .
He didn ’ t throw up his hands .
He just @ @ @ @ @ @ @ , and stood right there with them and helped to lead it .
To face those struggles , to still be so generous of spirit and optimistic , it ’ s remarkable , and it ’ s the true marker of a whole person , of someone who is so self-possessed and is too strong to have their character marred by the external frailties of this country .
In 2013 , I graduated high school , and shortly afterward , [ worked as ] an affiliate leader [ with ] United We Dream @ @ @ @ @ @ @ for pushing the comprehensive immigration reform bill .
We did a whole bunch of actions , but near the fall , as we ’ re wanting to escalate , members of Congress were demonstrating outside the Capitol , and Rep. John Lewis was arrested .
A couple weeks before that , I had gone down to DC , and we were strategizing how people were going to push [ for the bill ] .
I went to talk to the Congressional Black Caucus , and was able to catch Rep. Lewis as he @ @ @ @ @ @ @ walker !
He was running late to a vote .
I was explaining the bill , and asked , “ Can we count on you ?
” He said , “ You can count on me , ” and gave the thumbs up .
I was young in 2013 — I was 18 years old — and this was somebody who was in our history and AP Gov classes , with the PBS Eyes on the Prize series .
This is how the younger millennials understood him .
It wasn ’ t ’ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ , and I was watching that ... from afar , [ where I ] got this sense of , ‘ This is his life ’ s work , in some ways : getting arrested for racial justice.
’ He ’ s been doing this since he was my age ; he joined SNCC when he was young .
After news came down that he had passed , one of the things I was thinking about , and I ’ ve been thinking about the past few years — my family has been here @ @ @ @ @ @ @ ve been undocumented for 17 — is what kind of country my parents thought they were immigrating to .
They were probably trying to come to a country where everyone was guaranteed a dignified life .
Jobs and justice .
That ’ s a country that John Lewis probably did not see when he was young ... but it ’ s one that he got to see the beginnings of by the time I met him , in 2013 , in the House , pushing for and alongside the new currents of movements @ @ @ @ @ @ @ ’ d be training for civil disobedience .
Part of that would include reading about SNCC , what did they do , what kind of actions did they use , how were they able to push things forward and build a movement that a lot of people could see themselves in .
You run into a lot of John Lewis ’ s work , and how he ran SNCC at the time , and that ’ s still common .
There ’ s still people from SNCC that advise young organizers now .
@ @ @ @ @ @ @ as not starting something new , but in a lineage and a tradition of young people in general , and young Black and brown organizers , protesting and pushing to make sure that we grow up in the kind of country that John Lewis , C.T .
Vivian , and the rest were shaping .
He deeply believed in democracy .
There were American founders who believed in creating this new nation , and they had some ideas , and explored a philosophy with democracy , but their actions show that they didn @ @ @ @ @ @ @ American democracy .
They were the founders of the country , but not of democracy .
They didn ’ t have the foresight to see John Lewis as a member of Congress , or to even see him as human enough to be able to vote .
John Lewis is one of the forefathers in this country of true democracy , who really internalized and believed in the expansion of the vote , not just for Black people but for all citizens .
He believed in equality for all people .
The forefathers @ @ @ @ @ @ @ believed that .
I think he had an acute awareness of the work of young people , and of when young people are [ being ] marginalized in the movement .
He provided a lot of grace and space for young people , which is why one of the last things he did was go out to [ Washington , DC ’ s ] Black Lives Matter Plaza .
That was a message of , ‘ I ’ m in solidarity with you.
’ He was able to bridge this political world and @ @ @ @ @ @ @ evolution of how movements take place .
The last time I saw him was this year in the Selma-Montgomery march [ at the Edmund Pettus Bridge ] .
I didn ’ t think he was going to come this year , because of his cancer .
… As we get to the top of the bridge , I ’ m standing there , the crowd stops .
… He walks up to the crowd , like Moses parting the sea .
I ’ m directly in front of him .
I knew that @ @ @ @ @ @ @ ’ t know how I knew , but I knew .
As an activist , the weeks prior to that had been really tough .
… I was really feeling overwhelmed .
I ’ m looking at this man who is literally battling cancer , to actually have the courage , to actually get the strength , and you could tell he was weak .
He speaks to us , and it was just what I needed to feel affirmed .
Even in that moment , I knew that I couldn ’ t @ @ @ @ @ @ @ s a song , “ Sweet Honey in the Rock : ” “ We who believe in freedom can not rest until it comes.
” Here ’ s this 80-year-old man who is in Congress , who could literally just go sit at home and do what he wants and just be loved .
He knew the importance of that moment , but he also knew the importance of that work .
I felt that I , along with millions of others , were knighted .
I felt affirmed and knighted in that @ @ @ @ @ @ @ .
I think it is not good enough to go back to the place from which we came .
We are in a relay .
We ’ ve got to take it forward .
There ’ s a fragility [ to ] American democracy .
… When you ever have your citizens in a place where they can fully participate , fully engage , that ’ s where you build patriotism .
You don ’ t build patriotism by forcing people to acknowledge a flag that has been a symbol of hatred and @ @ @ @ @ @ @ the space for American citizens to engage , to be affirmed , and demonstrate their God-given agency .
Raquel Willis , director of communications of Ms. Foundation for Women ; founder of Black Trans Circles I met the congressman in 2016 .
He met with a group of organizers in Atlanta who were part of the Black Lives Matter movement .
It was a powerful experience .
He talked about his experiences and really gave us encouragement around the activism and the organizing work that we were already doing .
His lifelong commitment @ @ @ @ @ @ @ think particularly at the beginning of his organizing career .
It ’ s important to understand that , no matter what age you are , you can get into the fight , and this is really , like it was for him , a lifelong commitment .
So , we can ’ t expect there to be quick , flash-in-the-pan fixes for these systems of oppression .
We have to be invested in the future .
The movement that is happening now is just the continuation of Black liberation work that has happened @ @ @ @ @ @ @ this idea that these movements are completely separate , but really , a lot of what has fueled [ activists today ] has come from the movements before .
There ’ s a direct line to the civil rights movement from where we are now in the movement for Black lives .
Particularly in this election year , I think his work around strengthening folks ’ access to electoral power is important , but I also think that sometimes what ’ s more important is the organizing that happens on the ground amongst @ @ @ @ @ @ @ , beyond voting .
There ’ s so many different ways that people can transform society , and I think we often only , or mostly , focus on electoral power .
When it comes to organizing , you can organize around so many different things , that what ’ s important is stretching the muscle .
I think of organizing as a creative endeavor , so we have to be thinking about ways that we can expand access in whatever instances or spaces that we ’ re in .
I think it @ @ @ @ @ @ @ that we hold the honor that we have for them , but that we hold the hard critiques that we may have about their decisions or some of their rhetoric while they were here .
We do a disservice in trying to paint anyone as perfect .
I think we can hold complicated feelings about figures without throwing out their legacy .
We should certainly be grateful for the strides that a figure like the congressman made , and we can also think about the ways that we can hold those critiques , @ @ @ @ @ @ @ to grow in our own work and be better figures for generations to come .
I think a lot of what we can learn from any figure ’ s life is there ’ s so much more work to do , and there ’ s so many more ways to open doors for generations to come .
I hope that folks will continue to be invested in the organizers who are doing work on the ground today .
We have a society that loves to look at our history of organizing with rose-colored @ @ @ @ @ @ @ civil rights movement ” now , but at the time [ those activists ] were very maligned , and there wasn ’ t a genuine support for the work that they were doing , and that still continues today .
I think we have to be reflective on the ways that we may critique current movements without really engaging with what they ’ re saying or what they ’ re fighting for .
Every day at Vox , we aim to answer your most important questions and provide you , and our audience @ @ @ @ @ @ @ has the power to save lives .
Our mission has never been more vital than it is in this moment : to empower you through understanding .
Vox ’ s work is reaching more people than ever , but our distinctive brand of explanatory journalism takes resources — particularly during a pandemic and an economic downturn .
Your financial contribution will not constitute a donation , but it will enable our staff to continue to offer free articles , videos , and podcasts at the quality and volume that this moment requires .
@ @ @ @ @ @ @ today .

Rep. John Lewis, a Georgia Congress member and icon of the civil rights movement, died Friday at the age of 80.
Throughout his decades-long career, Lewis was known for his activism — from his roots as a Freedom Rider and firebrand organizer of the March on Washington, to the many times he was arrested, some as a member of the US House of Representatives. In his time as a lawmaker, he became an advocate for LGBTQ rights, expanded freedoms for immigrants and refugees, and supported gun reform measures. He continued this work in his final weeks — just a month before he died of pancreatic cancer, he visited Washington, DC’s Black Lives Matter Plaza, one of many places reflecting the current wave of anti-racism protests sweeping the world.
He was known for encouraging people to become activists themselves, saying they should not hesitate to get in “good trouble.” And he inspired many to do just that.
Here, five activists reflect on what Lewis’s legacy meant to them, and how it may be carried forward. Their responses, edited for clarity and length, are below.
Tanya Washington, professor of law at Georgia State University and former director of the John Lewis Fellowship Program
At 21, he was one of the first Freedom Riders; at 23, he was the chairperson of SNCC, and helped organize the March on Washington, and at 25, he was at the Selma protests. I think it’s empowering for young people to recognize that their energy, their perspective is necessary. It’s young people who moved the needle in the civil rights movement. They were college students, high school students. Some were even younger than that — the kids who integrated schools after Brown v. Board were little school kids. I think younger activists will draw from his legacy a sense of power and responsibility: Their contribution can begin right now.
Everyone quotes him saying, “Get in good trouble.” I think what that really has meant to me is to not be afraid to make decisions that are unpopular. What other people might call trouble, through a historical lens will be called progress. It’s inspired me to take risks when I’m guided by my moral compass.
I definitely see [his influence] when I look at the Black Lives Matter movement, and I see the young people in the streets, risking their lives and their health to enforce democracy, to make sure that we have justice as part of our criminal legal system, and that we eradicate racism. I see the same spirit that motivated John Lewis as a young person to get involved. He decides while he’s in college to sign up to be a Freedom Rider, which is not going to end well, just in terms of the risk to life and limb that it entails. But it was something he was willing to die for. And I’m seeing that same commitment made by young people who have been protesting in opposition to the issues, racism, and xenophobia that are all too prevalent in society today. I see that same spirit of youth activism, and that dedication and commitment.
One of the things that I really loved about John Lewis is that he understood that equality is not divisible. He wasn’t just fighting for equality and just for Black people, but for everyone. Unless everyone can enjoy equality, equality doesn’t exist. … I hope we will continue to see people working across intersectionality. It’s not just Black people, it’s trans Black women, it’s poor Indigenous men, it’s people from the LGBTQ community. All across the spectrum, until all of us are treated equally, none of us are treated equally. When he talked about the “beloved community,” he meant everybody.
He lived a life that set the example for how human beings can have an impact. From very humble beginnings, he became an American hero. I am so honored and humbled to have had a chance to work with him and to be inspired by his legacy. And I’ll miss him.
Janai Nelson, associate director-counsel of the NAACP Legal Defense and Educational Fund (LDF)
[Lewis] really underscored for me the power and the strength that it takes to do civil rights [work], and really crystallized the role of Black people in shaping this nation on an ongoing basis, and forcing this country to live up to its ideals and to deliver on its promises. It is truly by force that it happens — it’s by the force of will and stamina and strategy, on the part of people who have largely been nonviolent.
There’s a strength and power in that that is just immeasurable, and he embodied that completely. He was the epitome of that strength and power that could move mountains and destroy systems and force political hands, just through his tenacity and resolve and strategy. And brilliance — he was absolutely brilliant.
When I look at the faces of protesters on the street today, I see John Lewis. I see the Freedom Riders. … When I see young people going up against police, in military gear, who will wantonly attack them, even though they are only exercising their constitutional right of freedom of assembly and freedom of speech, I see the bravery of people like John Lewis all over again. He set an example of what it means to speak truth to power, to look evil in the face and not blink.
One [way to carry forward his legacy] is to continue the unfinished business of building this democracy by securing and protecting the right to vote on an equal basis for all people, and that requires the passage of the Voting Rights Advancement Act, which would restore the legislation that he put his life on the line for (the Voting Rights Act of 1965), and protect the right to vote during a period of history when it is under severe and pernicious attack.
And the other policy area is the protection of protesters: Ensuring that the methodology that he used to great success is one that continues to be among the tools and the arsenal of people who want transformative change. If we cannot protect protesters — if we allow law enforcement and white supremacists to attack and interfere with peaceful protest — then we haven’t learned anything from the history of people like John Lewis.
It’s just remarkable to me how loving and upbeat and kind he remained, even toward his worst enemies. … Every American owes a debt to John Lewis for his sacrifice and his lifetime of service. He never seemed embittered by the fact that, even at 80, he still had to struggle for the rights that he fought for 55 years ago. He didn’t throw up his hands. He just encouraged others to keep up the fight, and stood right there with them and helped to lead it.
To face those struggles, to still be so generous of spirit and optimistic, it’s remarkable, and it’s the true marker of a whole person, of someone who is so self-possessed and is too strong to have their character marred by the external frailties of this country.
Kamau Chege, manager of the Washington Census Alliance
In 2013, I graduated high school and shortly afterward [worked as] an affiliate leader [with] United We Dream. That summer was the big summer for pushing the comprehensive immigration reform bill. We did a whole bunch of actions, but near the fall, as we’re wanting to escalate, members of Congress were demonstrating outside the Capitol, and Rep. John Lewis was arrested.
A couple weeks before that, I had gone down to DC, and we were strategizing how people were going to push [for the bill]. I went to talk to the Congressional Black Caucus and was able to catch Rep. Lewis as he was walking. He was a fast walker! He was running late to a vote. I was explaining the bill, and asked, “Can we count on you?” He said, “You can count on me,” and gave the thumbs-up.
I was young in 2013 — I was 18 years old — and this was somebody who was in our history and AP Gov classes, with the PBS Eyes on the Prize series. This is how the younger millennials understood him.
It wasn’t till the action where he was arrested, and I was watching that ... from afar, [where I] got this sense of, “This is his life’s work, in some ways: getting arrested for racial justice.” He’s been doing this since he was my age; he joined SNCC when he was young.
I'm not the first to make this observation, but it's remarkable that for decades we had a sitting member of congress from the civil rights movement who regularly encouraged the public to break laws for the cause of racial justice.
10 days ago today: https://t.co/C5yT9pdH9O
RIP. https://t.co/nKCjq1kKhg — ☂Kamau (@Kamaumaumau) July 18, 2020
After news came down that he had passed, one of the things I was thinking about, and I’ve been thinking about the past few years — my family has been here for 20 years, and we’ve been undocumented for 17 — is what kind of country my parents thought they were immigrating to.
They were probably trying to come to a country where everyone was guaranteed a dignified life. Jobs and justice. That’s a country that John Lewis probably did not see when he was young ... but it’s one that he got to see the beginnings of by the time I met him, in 2013, in the House, pushing for and alongside the new currents of movements.
[In 2013,] we’d be training for civil disobedience. Part of that would include reading about SNCC, what did they do, what kind of actions did they use, how were they able to push things forward and build a movement that a lot of people could see themselves in.
You run into a lot of John Lewis’s work, and how he ran SNCC at the time, and that’s still common. There’s still people from SNCC that advise young organizers now. And that meant that we saw ourselves as not starting something new, but in a lineage and a tradition of young people in general, and young Black and brown organizers, protesting and pushing to make sure that we grow up in the kind of country that John Lewis, C.T. Vivian, and the rest were shaping.
LaTosha Brown, co-founder of Black Voters Matter Fund
He deeply believed in democracy. There were American founders who believed in creating this new nation, and they had some ideas, and explored a philosophy with democracy, but their actions show that they didn’t believe in the fullness of American democracy. They were the founders of the country, but not of democracy. They didn’t have the foresight to see John Lewis as a member of Congress, or to even see him as human enough to be able to vote.
John Lewis is one of the forefathers in this country of true democracy, who really internalized and believed in the expansion of the vote, not just for Black people but for all citizens. He believed in equality for all people. The forefathers didn’t believe that. He believed that.
I think he had an acute awareness of the work of young people, and of when young people are [being] marginalized in the movement. He provided a lot of grace and space for young people, which is why one of the last things he did was go out to [Washington, DC’s] Black Lives Matter Plaza. That was a message of “I’m in solidarity with you.” He was able to bridge this political world and this activist world, and understand the evolution of how movements take place.
The last time I saw him was this year in the Selma-Montgomery march [at the Edmund Pettus Bridge]. I didn’t think he was going to come this year, because of his cancer. … As we get to the top of the bridge, I’m standing there, the crowd stops. … He walks up to the crowd, like Moses parting the sea. I’m directly in front of him. I knew that was his last speech. I don’t know how I knew, but I knew.
“We were beaten, we were tear gassed. I thought I was going to die on this bridge. But somehow and someway, God Almighty helped me here.”
This would be the last time John Lewis would visit the Edmund Pettus Bridge, 55 years after Bloody Sunday pic.twitter.com/BXqHyO0CQl — philip lewis (@Phil_Lewis_) July 18, 2020
As an activist, the weeks prior to that had been really tough. … I was really feeling overwhelmed. I’m looking at this man who is literally battling cancer, to actually have the courage, to actually get the strength, and you could tell he was weak. He speaks to us, and it was just what I needed to feel affirmed. Even in that moment, I knew that I couldn’t ever stop this work. There’s a song, “Sweet Honey in the Rock”: “We who believe in freedom cannot rest until it comes.”
Here’s this 80-year-old man who is in Congress, who could literally just go sit at home and do what he wants and just be loved. He knew the importance of that moment, but he also knew the importance of that work. I felt that I, along with millions of others, were knighted. I felt affirmed and knighted in that moment, that our work was necessary.
I think it is not good enough to go back to the place from which we came. We are in a relay. We’ve got to take it forward. There’s a fragility [to] American democracy. … When you ever have your citizens in a place where they can fully participate, fully engage, that’s where you build patriotism. You don’t build patriotism by forcing people to acknowledge a flag that has been a symbol of hatred and racism. You build patriotism by creating the space for American citizens to engage, to be affirmed, and demonstrate their God-given agency.
Raquel Willis, director of communications of Ms. Foundation for Women; founder of Black Trans Circles
I met the congressman in 2016. He met with a group of organizers in Atlanta who were part of the Black Lives Matter movement. It was a powerful experience. He talked about his experiences and really gave us encouragement around the activism and the organizing work that we were already doing.
His lifelong commitment to liberation work is inspiring, I think particularly at the beginning of his organizing career. It’s important to understand that, no matter what age you are, you can get into the fight, and this is really, like it was for him, a lifelong commitment. So we can’t expect there to be quick, flash-in-the-pan fixes for these systems of oppression. We have to be invested in the future.
Congressman John Lewis will forever be an example of a lifelong commitment to liberation.
I will never forget the time he took to share his insights and encouragement with Atlanta #BlackLivesMatter organizers in 2016.
His contributions are simply innumerable. #RIP, Sir. pic.twitter.com/7R7mXSGgtb — Raquel Willis (@RaquelWillis_) July 18, 2020
The movement that is happening now is just the continuation of Black liberation work that has happened for centuries. We like to have this idea that these movements are completely separate, but really, a lot of what has fueled [activists today] has come from the movements before. There’s a direct line to the civil rights movement from where we are now in the movement for Black lives.
Particularly in this election year, I think his work around strengthening folks’ access to electoral power is important, but I also think that sometimes what’s more important is the organizing that happens on the ground amongst the people, just getting people involved, beyond voting. There’s so many different ways that people can transform society, and I think we often only, or mostly, focus on electoral power.
When it comes to organizing, you can organize around so many different things that what’s important is stretching the muscle. I think of organizing as a creative endeavor, so we have to be thinking about ways that we can expand access in whatever instances or spaces that we’re in.
I think it’s important when any figure dies that we hold the honor that we have for them, but that we hold the hard critiques that we may have about their decisions or some of their rhetoric while they were here. We do a disservice in trying to paint anyone as perfect. I think we can hold complicated feelings about figures without throwing out their legacy.
We should certainly be grateful for the strides that a figure like the congressman made, and we can also think about the ways that we can hold those critiques, honor those critiques, and make a commitment to grow in our own work and be better figures for generations to come. I think a lot of what we can learn from any figure’s life is there’s so much more work to do, and there’s so many more ways to open doors for generations to come.
I hope that folks will continue to be invested in the organizers who are doing work on the ground today. We have a society that loves to look at our history of organizing with rose-colored glasses. Folks talk about the “civil rights movement” now, but at the time [those activists] were very maligned, and there wasn’t a genuine support for the work that they were doing, and that still continues today. I think we have to be reflective on the ways that we may critique current movements without really engaging with what they’re saying or what they’re fighting for.