Cycles of Resistance

In 2020, the world was put in crisis. Not just this country—but the world as a whole. A plague descended, taking lives indiscriminately, forcing us to pause, to sit still, to confront what had always been there but was easier to ignore. Covid-19 was more than a health scare; it was a reckoning. It exposed the fragility of our systems—healthcare, economy, governance—forcing society to confront inequities that had long been ignored. It laid bare the failures of leadership, the disregard for marginalized communities, and the stark contrast between those who could afford safety and those who bore the brunt of the crisis. In that stillness, in the mandatory pause, we saw racial injustice laid bare—George Floyd gasping for breath under the knee of a police officer, Breonna Taylor shot and killed by police in her own home, Ahmaud Arbery hunted and murdered while jogging. Their names became rallying cries, their stories undeniable proof of a system designed to devalue Black lives.

For once, the world had no choice but to watch.

Everyone was home, glued to screens, forced to see what Black people have endured for generations. The brutality was live-streamed, the outrage amplified, and the resistance undeniable. Social media was both a battlefield and a big screen, cutting through the misinformation, and the comfort of ignorance. It changed the game. In real-time, we saw how collective action shakes the foundation of injustice. We saw how standing together sparks something greater than any one of us alone. In response, companies across the country pledged to amplify Black voices and support other racially marginalized communities, as well as LGBTQIA+ individuals, people with disabilities, and women. Many retailers committed to the Fifteen Percent Pledge, dedicating 15% of their shelf space to Black-owned businesses.

And yet, here we are. Trump is back. Billionaires have bought a government, consolidating their wealth and influence to ensure that the progress of 2020 was nothing more than a fleeting moment (Federal Election Commission, n.d.). The backlash was inevitable; those in power saw the potential of a truly awakened society and swiftly moved to silence it. The very frameworks of justice—racial equity, gender equity, immigration, LGBTQIA+ rights, disability rights—are under siege (Time Magazine). The sincerity and longevity of these commitments are in question now that several major companies, such as Walmart, Amazon, Facebook, and Target, have reduced or eliminated their diversity, equity, and inclusion (DEI) initiatives. The rollbacks highlight the challenges in maintaining genuine, long-term support for marginalized communities within corporate structures (PopSugar). What does that tell us? That 2020 wasn't just an awakening; it was a warning.

I believe God gave us those years between 2020 and now as preparation--time to sharpen our understanding, recognize the patterns of history, and learn to move with strategy rather than reaction. When Trump was first elected in 2016, we spent four years in collective shock—witnessing blatant racism, sexism, xenophobia, and homophobia without even the pretense of subtlety. By 2020, we resisted. We organized. We spoke out. We stopped him from a second term.

But tyranny doesn't take losses lightly. Power protects itself. And now, with a government in the pockets of billionaires, white supremacy is actively dismantling the very progress that made the 1% uneasy. They seek to return America to a place where Black people, women, queer folks, disabled folks, immigrants, and all marginalized communities are stripped of rights and pushed back into the margins of society. In 2016, there was no vision or strategy beyond chaos. They weaponized nostalgia for an America that never truly existed for those of us on the fringes. In response to our resistance, they created a playbook—Project 2025.

Understand something: this is not new. Every moment of Black progress, of marginalized communities inching toward liberation, is met with strategic, well-funded pushback. From COINTELPRO's disruption of civil rights leaders to Reagan's assault on social programs, these tactics are familiar. But now, the stakes are even higher. Now, we are witnessing its insidious impact unfold in real-time. The influx of executive orders issued to systematically dismantle DEI programs across federal agencies and strip away initiatives to foster inclusivity and equity. Affinity groups are now banned during work hours, erasing crucial spaces for marginalized employees to connect and advocate for themselves. Policies enforcing gendered bathroom restrictions are reinstated, targeting the rights of LGBTQIA+ individuals under the guise of 'traditional values.'

The purge extends beyond policy. Government officials who stood as safeguards against corruption and overreach are systematically being removed. Eighteen inspectors general—tasked with ensuring accountability within federal agencies—were fired, an action widely condemned as an illegal power grab that threatens the foundations of democracy. Even more alarming, aides connected to Elon Musk have taken control of the U.S. Office of Personnel Management, locking career civil servants out of critical computer systems containing sensitive data. It is a strategic takeover effectively stripping experienced government employees of their ability to perform their duties, consolidating power in the hands of those who seek to reshape the federal government into a tool of authoritarian rule.

They are following the playbook to the letter, and its consequences are dire. It's not just political maneuvering—this is an orchestrated dismantling of the very structures meant to protect democracy and ensure equal rights for all. This moment is a test—not just of our policies but of our will, of our ability to recognize history repeating itself before it is too late. It is a test of whether we have learned from Reconstruction's backlash, Jim Crow's resurgence, and the systemic purge of Black Wall Street.

We have seen this before. History repeats, but resistance evolves.

The Igbo Landing of 1803—a moment of defiant refusal where enslaved Igbo people chose death over bondage—reminds us that resistance is not always in the form of marches or megaphones. It is also in the refusal to comply, in the unwavering belief that liberation is non-negotiable. Audre Lorde taught us that our silence will not protect us. James Baldwin told us that to be Black in America is to live in a constant state of rage. Kimberlé Crenshaw gave us the language to understand how oppression is layered and interconnected. bell hooks reminded us that love itself is a form of resistance.

So, how will we rise to the occasion? How will we resist?

Make no mistake—Trump's return signals the unraveling of democracy as we know it. This is not alarmist; it is reality. If we do not resist, we will be beholden to a dictator. The think is resistance doesn't need to look like the movements of our ancestors. We do not have to march into the ocean, nor do we have to take to the streets in the same way. But we must act.

We must resist by using our voices—both the loud and the quiet.—by operationalizing DEI in ways that make it undeniable; by continuing to build and protect spaces where we can exist fully and authentically; by standing firm against the erasure of our histories, our contributions, our humanity. Live in the truth that we all belong and deserve to exist as our whole authentic selves. Everyone deserves life and freedom. It is not one person's right to inflict hatred onto others. We must resist by forging community and care in the wake of the chaos. We must speak life into each other, not tear each other down.

We must resist the oppression olympics that pit marginalized communities against one another. We must refuse the manufactured divisions designed to weaken our collective power. We must recognize that billionaires have not only bought political seats; they have bought the narratives that keep us distracted, fighting one another instead of the actual forces of oppression.

And above all, we must resist through love and kindness—love as defiance and kindness as a strategy.

Love is more than a feeling—it is the courage to act, to protect, to build. It is the radical belief that we belong, that our futures are worth fighting for, and that community will always be stronger than oppression. Love is the foundation of community.

It is not our job to match their hate with hate. It is our job to build something stronger, something undeniable, something they cannot erase.

We are standing at the crossroads of history, and we have a choice: succumb to fear or stand in the fullness of our power. I know what I choose.

What about you?

References

1. American Civil Liberties Union (ACLU). (2024). Project 2025 explained. Retrieved from https://www.aclu.org/project-2025-explained

2. American Civil Liberties Union (ACLU). (2024). More about FBI spying. Retrieved from https://www.aclu.org/documents/more-about-fbi-spying

3. Alexander, M. (2010). The new Jim Crow: Mass incarceration in the age of colorblindness. The New Press. Retrieved from https://newjimcrow.com/about

4. Baldwin, J. (1998). The fire next time. Vintage International.

5. BlackPast. (2021). Igbo Landing Mass Suicide (1803). Retrieved from https://www.blackpast.org/african-american-history/events-african-american-history/igbo-landing-mass-suicide-1803/

6. Crenshaw, K. (1991). Mapping the margins: Intersectionality, identity politics, and violence against women of color. Stanford Law Review, 43(6), 1241-1299.

7. Federal Election Commission. (n.d.). Donald J. Trump for President Inc. https://www.fec.gov/data/candidate/P80001571/

8. Fifteen Percent Pledge. (n.d.). About the Fifteen Percent Pledge. Retrieved from https://15percentpledge.org/

9. hooks, b. (2000). All about love: New visions. William Morrow.

10. Learning for Justice. (2024). Reconstruction 101: Progress and backlash [Podcast episode]. Teaching Hard History: Jim Crow Era. Retrieved from https://www.learningforjustice.org/podcasts/teaching-hard-history/jim-crow-era/reconstruction-101-progress-and-backlash

11. Lorde, A. (1988). A burst of light: Essays. Firebrand Books.

12. National Archives Foundation. (2021). Black Wall Street: 100 years since the Tulsa Race Massacre. Retrieved from https://archivesfoundation.org/documents/black-wall-street-100-years-since-the-tulsa-race-massacre/

13.   PopSugar. (2024). The impact of rolling back DEI in corporate America. Retrieved from https://www.popsugar.com/beauty/diversity-inclusion-beauty-important-49424628

14. Time Magazine. (2024). Companies are quietly rolling back their DEI efforts. Retrieved from https://time.com/7209960/companies-rolling-back-dei/

15. Wired. (2025). US government websites are disappearing in real time. Retrieved from https://www.wired.com/story/us-government-websites-are-disappearing-in-real-time