The Civil Rights Movement: A Radical History, Not a Polite Myth
Susan and I were in Durham yesterday and ran into some folks protesting as part of the "No Kings" demonstration. The protest, held on June 14, Flag Day, the Army’s 250th birthday, and Donald Trump's birthday, was part of a nationwide action opposing authoritarianism and the rise of unchecked presidential power. The protesters that I saw were overwhelmingly white. One sign held by a woman caught my eye—it read something like "peace protest, not riots." That sign stayed with me because it reflects a widespread and dangerous misunderstanding of what it means to protest in this country. Many white Americans today still don’t grasp—or conveniently forget—a crucial truth about the Civil Rights Movement: it was deeply unpopular, intensely disruptive, messy, and confrontational, like many of the Black Lives Matter protests.
When contemporary protests against policies—whether concerning immigration raids, police violence, or voter suppression—are dismissed as “too angry,” “divisive,” or “going too far,” critics often invoke a sanitized, whitewashed version of the Civil Rights Movement. Yet, in the 1960s, figures like Martin Luther King Jr. were widely condemned. He was labeled a communist, an agitator, and a threat to American stability. Historical data underscores this unpopularity: a 1966 Gallup poll showed that 63% of Americans had an unfavorable opinion of Martin Luther King Jr. (see Pew Research Center’s analysis). Most white Americans, in particular, disapproved of both King and the movement itself during its active phase.
What’s often overlooked is that the Civil Rights Movement was never polite. It was not widely accepted. It was, by design, disruptive. Nonviolence was never about avoiding conflict; it was a strategic tool meant to expose the inherent violence of the state. Leaders like King and groups like the Student Nonviolent Coordinating Committee (SNCC) understood that moral arguments alone would not suffice. They deliberately walked into danger, anticipating that white officials—police, sheriffs, and state troopers—would respond with brutality. And they ensured the world was watching.
Consider the stark realities: in Birmingham, Alabama, police unleashed firehoses and police dogs on Black children participating in demonstrations. In Selma, Alabama, peaceful marchers were brutally beaten with clubs on the Edmund Pettus Bridge on "Bloody Sunday." These were not unforeseen accidents; they were anticipated reactions, meticulously documented to reveal the moral bankruptcy of segregation and systemic racism.
When Black and brown communities protested during the first Trump administration—chanting "Black Lives Matter," standing against ICE raids, and resisting an increasingly authoritarian state—they were directly continuing this powerful legacy. The discomfort many white Americans expressed in 2020 eerily mirrored the sentiments of their predecessors in the 1960s. The critical difference is that history eventually vindicated those earlier protests. The pressing question remains: will the white folks leading many of today’s protests recognize that being uncomfortable is necessary for change—or will they continue to cling to sanitized myths and prioritize their comfort over real transformation? Many are rightly worried about the harm being done by the government, but nothing will change as long as they insist on staying comfortable while others suffer.
And comfort, especially for the privileged, often disguises itself as action. Gathering in large numbers to hold signs—even with hundreds or thousands of others—does not, on its own, dismantle oppressive systems. Symbolic action without sustained confrontation often serves to soothe the privileged without genuinely shifting power dynamics. Real, transformative change demands sustained pressure, strategic disruption, and an unwavering willingness to directly challenge injustice. This can look like blocking streets, packing city council meetings, organizing strikes, or refusing to comply with unjust policies—actions that challenge power, not just gesture at it.
Another example was ACT UP during the AIDS crisis. ACT UP shut down Wall Street and blocked access to government facilities to force the country to confront its deadly indifference. Their actions were confrontational by necessity—and effective because they made ignoring the crisis impossible.
Many fail to grasp this crucial connection: the Civil Rights Movement was far from a peaceful postcard moment. It was a radical, demanding struggle for justice that was largely reviled in its own time and is only embraced and revered in retrospect. It is precisely this challenging, confrontational spirit that fueled every movement for justice. And it’s what we must continue to build today.
What Can You Do?
If you're wondering what to do next—start with this: move beyond the sign.
Educate yourself and others about the real history of protest and resistance in this country.
Join or support local organizing efforts—especially those led by Black, brown, and marginalized communities.
Show up when it matters: at protests, city council meetings, school board votes, and courtrooms.
Disrupt comfort—especially in predominantly white spaces where injustice is too often politely ignored.
Put your body, time, and money on the line—not just for symbolic gestures, but to shift power and protect lives.
Listen more than you speak. Follow the lead of those most impacted.
And most importantly: keep showing up even when the cameras are off, and it’s no longer trending.
This work isn’t about being seen doing the right thing. It’s about doing the right thing, even when it comes at a cost.
I am a 71 year old white Jewish female who read your post from beginning to end. I remember the Civil Rights Movement, Vietnam war protests, & more recent efforts for under-served & under-protected people. We marched in San Diego yesterday and my sign said Human Rights For All. Is it enough? Of course not. If Lu less than a drop in the bucket of outrage at the inhumane actions by the current administration. Yet, I am glad that our marches here were peaceful because it left less for the administration to weaponize about this opposition. I will reread your suggested actions and determine which I can add in to support our need to restore balance. Thank you for always being a voice of righteousness.
I am an almost 86 year old ex Catholic. Congregationalist, white, NYC public schooled educated female who remembers vividly the civil rights protests of the 50s and 60s. As a newly minted RN and wife we lived briefly in Maryland in 1960 and there were “Whites only “ drinking fountains and bathrooms and worse, separate hospital wards not airconditioned, behind the main air conditioned hospital. You could see Delaware across the river - a different world. I was stunned as this was not protested or condemned. It just was ! I am thrilled at how far we have come but it was not pretty getting here.