There is trouble in the land, and this week’s celebrations of the 4th of July stir layers of mixed feelings for many Americans, those who yearn to be Americans, and those around the world who are very concerned about what’s happening in America. Independence Day is intended to celebrate the signing of the Declaration of Independence by 56 delegates to the Second Continental Congress. They were rebels, refusing to pay obeisance and taxes to the king of England and to Parliament, a government where they did not have representation. They declared themselves to be an independent, self-governing country where “all men are created equal.” 

Clearly, the ideals expressed in that document were not reflected in 1776 realities, where the “all” did not include Blacks, women, or anyone who did not own property, and rights for all those groups were a long time in coming.

It took a civil war to emancipate those in slavery. During Reconstruction after the war (1865-1877), radical Republicans in Congress (who today would be the progressive wing of the Democratic Party) enacted the first national civil rights in the country’s history. They passed a series of laws and the 13th, 14th, and 15th Constitutional Amendments granting Black Americans citizenship by birthright, abolishing slavery; protecting their right to vote, hold office and serve on juries; and prohibiting discrimination in housing, public places, and on public transit. With the protection of the federal government, Black Americans were able to own land, start businesses, build schools and colleges, and work middle-class jobs in the federal government. In 1870, Hiram Revels became the first Black person elected to the U.S. Senate, representing Mississippi. In 1873, Henry Hayne became the first Black man to attend the University of South Carolina, making it the only integrated public university in the South, both amazing events in states with Black majorities in the population who were enslaved less than a decade earlier. Hope for the future must have been filling many hearts.

It’s hard to imagine how quickly racial progress can disappear, but it happened then and is happening again today. The 1876 election was hotly contested: Republican Rutherford B. Hayes had lost the popular vote, and needed all the electoral votes from three states still not counted in January 1877.  The Democratic opponent, Samuel Tilden, needed only one. “Peace at any price” was the clamor from the business community. Hayes secured Southern Democratic support by agreeing to withdraw federal troops and thus the enforcement of the laws that shielded Blacks from the violence of former enslavers and protected their ability to vote. It was the last military obstacle to the reestablishment of white supremacy according to “A People’s History of the United States,” by Howard Zin. The government of the United States was behaving almost exactly as Karl Marx described a capitalist state: pretending neutrality to maintain order, but serving the interests of the rich. Consequently, states passed segregation laws removing the rights of African Americans to serve on juries, ride on integrated train cars, and shop in integrated stores. States created a racial apartheid, restricting voting by guaranteeing the right to vote only to men whose grandfathers had cast a ballot before 1867. It’s not hard to imagine how painful those reversals would have been to Southern Blacks when it had seemed that there was finally progress after the brutality of slavery.

Another 90 years of repression and struggle brought America to March 7, 1965, when 600 marchers in Selma, Ala. were peacefully protesting the murder of Jimmie Lee Jackson, a 26-year-old protestor trying to protect his mother from blow, who was killed by an Alabama state trooper. On a day that came to be known as Bloody Sunday, as portrayed in Ava Duvernay’s film, “Selma,” the protestors were brutally attacked by state troopers for crossing the Edmund Pettus Bridge, and John Lewis and others were beaten so badly, they were hospitalized. The brutality caught on film shocked the nation and galvanized the fight against racial injustice, which mobilized Congress to pass the Voting Rights Act, signed into law on Aug. 6, 1965 by President Johnson.

John Lewis is well-known for his lifelong work in the American civil rights movement and his commitment to nonviolent civil disobedience. At the age of 23, he was the youngest speaker in 1963 at the March on Washington for Jobs and Freedom, where he delivered a powerful speech advocating for civil rights. He was a founding member and later chairman of SNCC (Student Nonviolent Coordinating Committee), an organization dedicated to organizing and empowering young people in the fight for civil rights. I was attending college at the University of Colorado when SNCC recruiters came on campus to convince students to join the movement and participate in sit-ins, freedom rides, and marches. I was very moved by their stories and wanted to join the fight to challenge racial segregation and discrimination. My impassioned pleas to leave college and head south were not met with enthusiasm by my parents. Concerned for my safety, they opposed my going, and I missed out on the opportunity to meet Lewis and other powerful activists. 

In spite of the violence he endured, Lewis’s commitment to nonviolence and love was unswerving. He said, “For all of us who were involved in nonviolent direct action, protest is an act of love, not one of anger. We always had the idea that good would overcome evil. We wanted to appeal to the better angels of all humanity…to awaken that divine spark that resides in all of us with the power to build and not tear down, to reconcile and not divide, to love and not hate.” His life work was an ongoing invitation to others to build a better, just world that values the dignity and the worth of every human being. Lewis urged people to “Get in good trouble, necessary trouble, and redeem the soul of America.”

In 2020, Rashawn Ray of the Brookings Institute capsulized the lessons John Lewis taught us: 

1. Vote always. “The vote is precious. It is the most powerful non-violent tool we have in a democracy.”

2. You’re never too young to make a difference; age is just a number.

As a young man, Lewis held a vision for a more transformative society. Older people are often socialized to the status quo in society and cannot fully envision a radically different world, and Lewis said young people have to push to create the change they want.

3. Speak truth to power 

“Speak up, speak out, get in the way,” said Lewis. “My grandfather taught us we have to be willing to speak up about injustice, always, no matter the costs. He said my silence is my acceptance.” 

4. Become a racial equity broker.

Lewis is the personification of transitioning from a political activist to a politician. He realized that to make transformative change, he needed to not just advocate but alter, deconstruct, and restructure the laws, policies, procedures, and rules that inhibit racial equity. He served in Congress for 33 years, earning the reputation as the “conscience of Congress.”

5. Never give up.

In 1986, one of Lewis’ first bills was the creation of a national museum to chronicle the history, culture, and successes of Black Americans. Thirty years later, the National Museum of African American History and Culture opened. Lewis taught us persistence.

On July 17, rallies and demonstrations all over the nation will honor and celebrate John Lewis’ work and speak out against the Trump administration’s brazen rollback of our civil rights. “Good Trouble Lives On” events in our area are scheduled in Ely from 5 to 7 p.m. at Whiteside Park; from 3 to 5 p.m. in Virginia at U.S. 53 & South 12th Avenue; and in many more locations throughout Minnesota. You can also make good trouble by speaking out against illegal and unconstitutional actions; call your elected officials to ask for support on important issues; take an online training session to deepen your understanding of issues you care about; stand up to racism and injustice; and do acts of loving kindness to help a neighbor, a friend, or a stranger.