The Gravity of the Hour: Notes on the National Requiem
Written By Earl Cotten, for The Earl Angle Newsletter
I.
On the morning of July 17, a woman leaned on her cane beneath it, her eyes tracing the lines of the portrait. Mellie Adams, 67, had seen Lewis walk these streets when the struggle was flesh, not memory. "A walking piece of history," she said to no one in particular. Around her, strangers pressed close—students with binders, mothers with strollers, retirees clutching water bottles. Five years to the day after Lewis’s death, they had come not to mourn but to arm themselves with his words: "Good Trouble Lives On" . This was the incantation, the spell against forgetting. Across 1,600 sites in all fifty states, from the barricades of Manhattan to the highway overpasses of Silver Spring, Maryland, the chant would rise like liturgy. The past was not even past; it was a blueprint .
II.
The phrase "good trouble" belongs to Lewis, of course. In 1965, it meant walking toward Alabama state troopers on the Edmund Pettus Bridge, knowing the batons would fall. It was a calculus of sacrifice: a fractured skull traded for the Voting Rights Act. By 2025, the term has shed its skin. Now it appears as umbrellas scrawled with "Protect Democracy" outside D.C. Metro stations—"shields against the elements," explained one holder, her voice flat with practiced defiance . It festoons ICE barricades in Lower Manhattan, where photos of Andry José Hernández Romero (a Venezuelan asylum seeker vanished into an El Salvador prison) hang beside wilting flowers . Yale historian David Blight sees in this a modern fragmentation of resistance. "It’s bewildering," he admits. "Every day they target something new"—Medicaid stripped from 17 million, DEI programs dismantled, due process abandoned in midnight deportations . Where the 1960s marched under a single banner, 2025’s dissent is a hydra. "Good trouble" is whatever force you can muster: a voter registration drive in Chicago, a food bank in Kenai, Alaska, a teach-in on the SAVE Act’s surgical targeting of Black and Indigenous voters .
III.
Policy is the language of consequence. The protesters knew this in their bones. Consider the trifecta igniting the streets:
The "One Big, Beautiful Bill" — Trump’s $930 billion excision of Medicaid and SNAP, unraveling the social contract stitch by stitch .
Immigration theaters — Asylum seekers rerouted to nations like Eswatini and South Sudan, where danger wears a state seal .
Voting rights attrition — The John Lewis Voting Rights Advancement Act (VRAA), reintroduced with fanfare in March 2025, now languishes in Senate purgatory while states erect barriers Lewis once bled to dismantle .
Mary Frances Berry, former U.S. Civil Rights Commission chair, distilled it acidly: "We’re backsliding. We’re not in good trouble. We’re in bad trouble" . The Voting Rights Act, eviscerated by Shelby County v. Holder in 2013, birthed a decade of voter ID laws and gerrymandered districts. The VRAA would restore federal "preclearance"—forcing states with histories of discrimination (Alabama, Georgia, Texas) to seek approval for voting changes . Yet without passage, Lewis’s bridge remains half-crossed.
IV.
Faith communities have always understood ritual. In Atlanta’s Big Bethel AME Church, Reverend Jonathan Jay Augustine framed resistance as sacrament: "Things [Lewis] gave his life for are being eroded" . United Methodists issued a national call to host voting-rights vigils, invoking John Wesley’s edict—"Do no harm. Do good"—as theological justification for challenging voter ID laws . Church basements became sign factories; pulpits doubled as rally stages. Selma’s 60th anniversary was not mere history but a living parable: What good is a bridge if the road beyond is blocked? .
V.
Lewis knew the ballot was the skeleton key. Without it, marginalized communities float in the ether—visible but powerless. The Shelby County decision in 2013 hollowed the Voting Rights Act, neutering its requirement for federal oversight. States like North Carolina pounced, crafting voter ID laws with what the Fourth Circuit Court called "surgical precision" against Black voters . The VRAA’s modernized formula would cover states with 15+ voting violations in 25 years (Alabama, Louisiana, Mississippi) and expand protections against polling place closures or multilingual ballot reductions . But as the bill stalls, groups like the Andrew Goodman Foundation train students to fight campus polling closures. "Their work honors Lewis’s sacrifice," says activist Kaylee Valencia . The bitter irony: those who once needed federal protection to vote now must protest to regain it.
Organizers embraced a menu of dissent: fearful of arrest? Run a food drive. Can’t march? Join a virtual teach-in. Accessibility was key—"good trouble" must be democratized to survive .
Their stakes were not abstract—healthcare, deportation, a grandchild’s breath in a smog-choked August. This was survival, polished to a tactic.
Lewis’s final New York Times op-ed hangs over it all: "Democracy is not a state. It is an act" . The July 17th marches were not a crescendo but a downbeat—a prelude to the next necessary trouble.
"History is not the past. It is the present." — James Baldwin
The banners will fray. The umbrellas will fade. But in Atlanta, a mural watches Auburn Avenue, waiting to see if the future Mellie Adams glimpsed will hold its ground.
2025 Protests Honor John Lewis's Legacy
Written by Katherine Mayfield For The Earl angle Newsletter
Key Takeaways
Nationwide protests honored John Lewis on the 5th anniversary of his death, mobilizing tens of thousands across all 50 states .
Demonstrators targeted Trump administration policies on immigration, healthcare cuts, and voting rights under the banner of "Good Trouble" .
The Voting Rights Advancement Act faces urgent calls for passage, restoring protections gutted after the Shelby County decision .
Faith groups and young activists drove participation, linking civil rights history to current threats against marginalized communities .
Creative tactics—like umbrella shields and pop-culture protest signs—highlighted nonviolent resistance traditions .
Atlanta’s Auburn Avenue Echoes With Chants of "Hero!"
Peering up at the six-story mural of John Lewis, Mellie Adams steadied herself with her cane. Around her, a hundred others gathered near Ebenezer Baptist Church—a place Lewis and Martin Luther King Jr. once called spiritual home. "He was a walking piece of history," Adams murmured. At 67, she couldn’t march far, but she nodded at the diverse crowd: "The future’s right here" . Five years after Lewis’s death, this July 17th wasn’t about mourning. It was raw, determined action. Organizers timed it deliberately: the exact anniversary of his passing. And across 1,600 sites, from tiny Twin Falls, Idaho, to bustling D.C. streets, people carried his defiant phrase like a shield: "Good Trouble Lives On" .
What "Good Trouble" Means in 2025 Isn’t What You Think
See, back in 1965, "good trouble" meant facing down police batons on the Edmund Pettus Bridge. Bloody Sunday left Lewis with a fractured skull, but it galvanized the Voting Rights Act. Fast-forward to now: the term’s evolved. It’s umbrellas scrawled with "Protect Democracy" held outside D.C. Metro stations. It’s ICE barricades in Manhattan layered with flowers and asylum seekers’ photos . Yale historian David Blight nailed it: today’s threats feel scattered. Unlike Vietnam-era single-issue marches, protesters now battle simultaneous fires—voter suppression, deportation raids, Medicaid cuts, DEI rollbacks. "It’s bewildering," Blight admitted. "Every day they target something new" . So "good trouble" became a mosaic of resistance: voter registrations at rallies, food drives beside bullhorns, teach-ins explaining the SAVE Act’s impact on Black and Indigenous voters .
The Policies Fueling America’s Summer of Discontent
Okay, let’s get specific. Why did retirees like Lisa Whitley haul "Not Done Fighting" signs to D.C.’s Franklin Park? Three words: the "Beautiful Bill." Trump’s sweeping legislation slashed $930 billion from Medicaid and food stamps (SNAP)—potentially stripping 17 million of health coverage . Then came ICE. Sara Gasero’s New York protest sign featured Andry José Hernández Romero, a Venezuelan asylum seeker shipped to an El Salvador prison. "Civil privileges, not rights," she argued, citing family separations and due process bypasses . And voting? Mary Frances Berry (ex-U.S. Civil Rights Commission chair) put it bluntly: "We’re backsliding." The John Lewis Voting Rights Advancement Act? Stalled. Police reform after George Floyd? Dead in the Senate . This trifecta—safety nets, immigration, ballot access—ignited the streets.
Table: Key Policies Targeted by "Good Trouble" Protests
How Faith Communities Are Keeping Lewis’s Torch Lit
Did ya know Lewis was a devout believer? United Methodists sure do. Their national call urged congregations to host voting-rights vigils, invoking Wesley’s edict: "Do no harm. Do good." For them, resisting voter ID laws is faith in action—"an expression of Christian witness" . At Atlanta’s Big Bethel AME, Reverend Jonathan Jay Augustine tied Lewis’s fight directly to Trump’s policies: "Things he gave his life for are being eroded." Even protest logistics reflected this: church basements became sign-making hubs, sermons doubled as rally speeches, and Selma’s 60th anniversary wasn’t just history—it was a biblical-scale parable about perseverance .
The Unfinished Battle: Why Voting Rights Are Ground Zero
Here’s the thing—Lewis knew voting was the master key. Without it, marginalized communities lose leverage. But the 2013 Shelby County v. Holder decision gutted the Voting Rights Act’s enforcement power. Fast forward: 2024 saw the most restrictive voting laws passed in a decade . Enter the John Lewis Voting Rights Advancement Act (VRAA). Reintroduced in March 2025, it aims to restore "preclearance"—requiring states with discrimination histories to federally approve voting changes . Groups like the Andrew Goodman Foundation train students to combat strict ID rules and campus polling closures. As young activist Kaylee Valencia notes, "Their work honors Lewis’s sacrifice" . Yet without Senate action, the VRAA remains symbolic—a ghost of what Lewis bled for in Selma.
Your Protest Playbook: From Umbrellas to Beyoncé Lyrics
Wanna know how Silver Spring, Maryland, protesters got highway drivers to honk? They stood on overpasses with "RESIST" signs. Simple, right? Tactics varied wildly:
Symbols: D.C. protesters wielded umbrellas as "shields against the elements" (and metaphorically, oppression) .
Art: Los Angeles vigils displayed portraits of police brutality/deportation victims .
Pop Culture: Signs riffed on Beyoncé ("Get the fck out my house [White House]"), Hamilton ("Immigrants: We get the job done!"), and Matilda ("Sometimes you gotta be naughty") .
Organizers emphasized local* action too. Couldn’t march? Join virtual teach-ins. Fearful of arrests? Run a food drive. The goal: make "good trouble" accessible, creative, and relentlessly visible .
Voices From the Streets: "Why I Showed Up"
Robin Payes (Rockville grandma) didn’t mince words: "Men controlling women’s bodies terrifies me." Her sign? "People Have the Power." Nearby, Marie Lurch listed concerns: "Rule of law. Immigrants. NPR." Everything felt at risk . In Minneapolis, lawyer Nekima Levy Armstrong yelled: "Stand up! Get in the way!"—urging Target boycotts over donations to election objectors . And retired fed Doug Blackburn captured the mood: "If we all give up? We’re lost." Personal stakes threaded the marches: healthcare loss, deportation fears, grandchildren’s futures. This wasn’t abstract activism. It was survival .
What Happens After the Placards Come Down?
Protests fade. Policy is forever. So organizers pivoted fast to next steps:
Pressure Congress: The VRAA needs Senate votes. Faith networks flooded reps with calls via the "Protect the Sacred Right to Vote" alert .
Voter Drives: Registering marginalized groups at rallies—because 2026 midterms loom .
Legal Action: Lawsuits like Mahmoud Khalil’s $20M wrongful detention claim against Trump test judicial boundaries .
Lewis’s final Times op-ed framed it perfectly: "Democracy isn’t a state. It’s an act." For every retiree, student, or pastor who marched July 17th, the "act" meant showing up again. And again. Until "good trouble" becomes good policy .
FAQs About the 2025 "Good Trouble" Protests
Q: How many people participated nationwide?
Estimates suggest "tens of thousands" across 1,500+ sites. While smaller than June’s "No Kings" rallies (which drew millions), it spanned all 50 states—including rural areas like Victor, Idaho .
Q: What’s the connection between John Lewis and voting rights today?
Lewis’s life work centered on ballot access. The Voting Rights Advancement Act (bearing his name) would restore key protections stripped in 2013. Protesters demanded its passage as a tribute .
Q: Were the protests affiliated with a particular party?
Nope. Organized by 60+ groups including nonpartisan orgs like the League of Women Voters, Transformative Justice Coalition, and Black Voters Matter. Focus was policy—not party politics .
Q: Did protesters face counter-demonstrations or arrests?
Sources mention no major clashes. Events emphasized nonviolence, per Lewis’s philosophy. Some ICE sites had barricades, but interactions remained peaceful .
Q: How can I support the "Good Trouble" movement now?
Contact senators about the John Lewis Voting Rights Advancement Act .
Volunteer with voter registration groups like The Andrew Goodman Foundation .
Track future actions via GoodTroubleLivesOn.org .
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