Protests in America: Our Right, Our Voice — Why Speaking Out Still Matters

Protests in America: Our Right, Our Voice

I decided to write this post because I’ve been noticing demonstrations happening all around the country lately. Just today, a friend of mine mentioned that she and her husband were attending a protest, which made me think even more about this topic. She’s the same friend who sometimes gives Josh and me rides to church when we can’t get a bus, so we talk often. When I called her this morning, she didn’t answer at first—and later explained it was because they were at a demonstration.

I’ve been thinking about protests and demonstrations quite a bit over the last few days, and her story gave me the little push I needed to finally sit down and write about it.

I get really concerned when people start criticizing protesters or act like people shouldn’t speak out. What’s happening right now in California—with the National Guard being called in to oversee demonstrations—is just one recent example that’s been on my mind. I’ll talk more about specific situations like that in later sections. For now, I just want to say this: Most protests in America are not violent.

Of course, in a country as large and diverse as ours, there will always be a few people who act inappropriately. Those individuals should be held accountable under the law. But protesting itself is not only legal—it’s vital. We need to be careful about painting all demonstrations as chaotic or dangerous, because the moment we do that, we put our democracy at risk.

I’ll be honest: I think Donald Trump is dangerous, and I worry about how he responds to protest and dissent. From what I’ve seen and read, he hasn’t always shown much respect for the right to protest—but that’s my opinion, and I’ll stand by it. (If you want to read more about his stance, there are plenty of articles on how his administration handled protest movements, especially during the 2020 Black Lives Matter demonstrations and related events.)

That being said, this isn’t about one political party or one set of beliefs. Everyone has a right to protest—no matter what side they’re on, and even if I don’t agree with them. That’s the whole point of democracy: everyone gets a voice. I’m worried about leaders who try to silence protest, because that’s not what this country should stand for.

I’ll admit, I voted for Trump the first time, mostly because I wasn’t a fan of Hillary Clinton. But I couldn’t support him after his first term, and the main reason was because I found his approach to dissent and protest—among other things—troubling and, honestly, dangerous.

Still, this post isn’t about who I voted for or which party is “right.” The most important thing is protecting the right to protest for everyone. No matter what you believe, your voice matters. That’s why I’m writing this—and why I hope we can all remember what’s really at stake when we talk about demonstrations in America.

Why Protest Matters

Imagine living in a country where you’re not allowed to protest—where the simple act of gathering with others and speaking your mind could get you arrested, or worse. That sounds like an authoritarian regime, not a democracy. In places like Russia or China, protests are often met with immediate crackdowns, arrests, and harsh penalties. That’s not the United States I want to live in.

We’re currently in the second term of President Donald Trump—yes, this is his second presidency (he first served from 2017 to 2021, and now again beginning in January 2025). But lately, I’ve been alarmed by how some politicians and leaders—including Trump—speak about protests as though they’re inherently violent or dangerous. During his first term, he frequently referred to protesters—especially those at Black Lives Matter demonstrations—as “thugs” and threatened harsh crackdowns. One infamous tweet during the summer 2020 protests said, “when the looting starts, the shooting starts,” which Twitter flagged as “glorifying violence”—read more about the reaction to that tweet.

Most recently, in California, thousands gathered to protest immigration raids—especially those led by ICE and federal authorities. These demonstrations have largely remained peaceful, even though the presence of 4,000 National Guard troops and 700 Marines was called in by Trump without state consent. Arrests were made—hundreds, mostly for minor charges like failure to disperse or curfew violations—but many more people stayed peaceful throughout. Fact-checking and details about the LA protests here.

What’s more, research from 2020 shows that about 94–96% of Black Lives Matter protests were peaceful and nondestructive, according to the Armed Conflict Location & Event Data Project (ACLED) and other studies. In California, while there were isolated instances of vandalism or unrest, the overwhelming majority of those in the streets were there to raise their voices—not engage in violence.

Calling in the National Guard can actually worsen tensions. Heavy military or police presence can intimidate peaceful demonstrators, increase fear, and even lead to more confrontations. It would be far better—both for public safety and democratic health—if officials trusted people to protest peacefully, instead of escalating the situation.

I’ve been involved in protests myself—most notably against the Iraq War (formally called the Iraq War or Operation Iraqi Freedom) in the early 2000s. As a blind person, it’s not easy to protest—you have to plan ahead, find accessible routes, and connect with organizers you trust. Josh and I want to do it more in the future, but we know it’ll require preparation and help from people who know the routes and logistics. We can’t just show up; it takes teamwork. That said, I believe it’s worth it.

I don’t protest because it’s fun. Being in a crowd, marching with signs, shouting chants—it can feel uncomfortable. But I do it because it matters. It’s how we tell our elected officials: “This is what we believe. This is what we want.” Throughout history—Civil Rights, Women’s March, March for Our Lives—peaceful demonstrations have changed minds and policies. That’s what makes a democracy strong.

The bottom line? Protest is not a threat—it’s a sign of a functioning democracy. When leaders start talking about it like it’s a danger, that’s when we need to open our eyes and hold them accountable.

A Closer Look at the Recent California Protests

When I first started hearing about the latest protests in California, I wondered: why was the National Guard being called out? Isn’t that reserved for real emergencies—when there’s actual danger to public safety? Historically, the U.S. has deployed the National Guard in moments of severe unrest—like during the civil rights era or to curb violent riots. That’s why it caught my attention this time.

But the reality on the ground was very different from the headlines. These protests—sparked by immigration raids and federal crackdowns—have been overwhelmingly peaceful. The majority of demonstrators in cities like Los Angeles, San Francisco, and Oakland marched with signs and chants, without resorting to violence or property damage.

Still, political leaders offered very different interpretations. President Trump called the demonstrations “dangerous” and declared, “We’re not going to allow riots in our cities.” Meanwhile, California’s Governor Gavin Newsom challenged that view harshly, saying the deployment was “purposefully inflammatory” and warning that Trump “is pulling a military dragnet across Los Angeles.” He stood by peaceful protest as a right and said, “We have a right to peaceful protest in California, and we are committed to protecting that right.” Read Governor Newsom’s official statement on protest rights.

Hearing these sharp contrasts in tone made me wonder: what’s actually happening? According to data from the Armed Conflict Location & Event Data Project (ACLED) and multiple news outlets, roughly 94–96% of Black Lives Matter and immigrant rights protests in the U.S. during recent years were peaceful. In California this year, although over 4,000 National Guard members and hundreds of federal agents were mobilized, most arrests were for minor infractions—like curfew violations or blocking traffic—not violent actions.

Unfortunately, it’s the rare moments of unrest that dominate headlines, overshadowing the peaceful majority. Even legal experts and court rulings have noted that most demonstrators were exercising their rights, not staging a rebellion. In fact, a federal judge in San Francisco called the deployment “unlawful” and emphasized that the protests “fall far short of ‘rebellion.'” Read the FactCheck.org analysis and federal judge’s statement here.

Deploying troops and law enforcement in full gear can do more harm than good—it can intimidate peaceful demonstrators, heighten tensions, and discourage people from speaking out. So I have to ask: are we responding to genuine disorder, or treating protest like a crime?

Most protests—even when they’re large and passionate—are not the violent events they’re often portrayed to be. The majority of people in the streets are standing up for their rights. And if we lose sight of that, we risk giving up not just protest, but a vital piece of what makes America a democracy.

The Power of Peaceful Protest

One story that’s stayed with me is about the passage of the Americans with Disabilities Act (ADA) in 1990—a law that fundamentally reshaped our country. In Washington, D.C., over 1,000 activists gathered on March 12, coordinated by the advocacy group ADAPT (Americans Disabled for Accessible Public Transit). They marched from the White House to the Capitol to demand civil rights protections for people with disabilities.

Then came a moment that stopped the nation in its tracks. Over 60 people—some in wheelchairs, others using crutches—abandoned their mobility devices and began to crawl up the Capitol’s 83 stone steps. Among them was eight-year-old Jennifer Keelan‑Chaffins, who pulled herself up one step at a time, saying, “I’ll take all night if I have to.” The crawl took nearly an hour, but the impact was immediate: legislators watching that day couldn’t ignore the visceral demonstration of how inaccessible public buildings truly were for millions of Americans. Read more about Jennifer’s Capitol Crawl here.

That single act helped shift the political conversation. Some senators who had opposed the ADA began to reconsider, or even support, the bill. On July 26, 1990, President George H. W. Bush signed the ADA into law, guaranteeing rights to millions of people with disabilities. Jennifer’s words still ring true: “…if somebody my age didn’t do it, then nobody from my generation would be represented.” Learn more about Ability360 and ongoing disability advocacy. That moment reminds me why peaceful protest matters so much—and how far one determined act can reach.

Of course, the ADA was not the only civil rights victory won through protest. The road to equality in America has always been a long one, paved by the courage of those willing to stand up and march, even in the face of violence. The Civil Rights Movement of the 1950s and 60s is full of examples—think of the Montgomery Bus Boycott, the sit-ins at lunch counters, or the march across the Edmund Pettus Bridge in Selma, Alabama. Many who participated faced threats, brutality, and even jail time, yet their commitment to nonviolence changed the nation forever.

The echoes of those protests reach me in very real ways, even now. For example, just the other day when I went to have my blood drawn at the Copper Ridge Center in Traverse City, I was able to ride the elevator independently—simply by pressing the button marked “1” in Braille to get to the clinic. The fact that I could do that by myself is a direct result of the ADA and the long struggle for disability rights. The same goes for accessible buses, ramps, and curb cuts—things many people might take for granted, but that make a world of difference for so many of us.

These stories—whether it’s Jennifer crawling up the Capitol steps or the marchers in Selma—remind me that protest isn’t just noise. It’s ordinary people standing up together, sometimes against impossible odds, and refusing to be ignored. That’s why I care so deeply about protecting the right to protest. When authorities threaten it or dismiss it as dangerous, they risk silencing the very voices that can bring about positive change.

Why This Matters—For All of Us

There’s something that always sticks with me when I think about protest and democracy. Maybe you love Donald Trump and support his policies, or maybe you’re someone who doesn’t have strong political opinions at all—you just want to live your life and not worry about what’s happening in Washington. Sometimes, it can feel like protests and politics don’t really touch us. For a while, maybe they don’t.

But the truth is, the issues that matter most to us—whatever they are—only get attention when people are willing to stand up and make their voices heard. For me, that might be disability rights or racial justice. For someone else, it might be fighting for the unborn, defending religious freedom, or protecting the environment. We all have different causes that speak to us, and that’s a good thing. Our democracy depends on people bringing different perspectives to the table.

I always think of a quote often attributed to the German pastor Martin Niemöller. He lived through a time when speaking up could be dangerous, but staying silent was even worse. He wrote:

First they came for the Socialists, and I did not speak out—
because I was not a Socialist.
Then they came for the Trade Unionists, and I did not speak out—
because I was not a Trade Unionist.
Then they came for the Jews, and I did not speak out—
because I was not a Jew.
Then they came for me—and there was no one left to speak for me.

—Pastor Martin Niemöller

That’s why I care so much about the right to protest—even when the protests are for things I might not personally agree with. If we start letting the government silence some voices, sooner or later, we might find our own causes—or even our own lives—on the line. A government that can crack down on protest because it’s inconvenient or unpopular is a government that can crack down on anyone.

So whether you’re marching for disability rights, racial justice, environmental protection, gun rights, religious freedom, reproductive rights, or something else entirely—your voice matters. If we lose the right to protest, we all lose. Let’s not let that happen.

Thank you for reading. I truly believe this is important for all of our lives. The right to protest is what keeps our democracy healthy and responsive. Without it, our lives—and our country—would be very different.