Why Some Black Folks Are Sitting This One Out—and That’s Okay
The “Hands Off!” protests scheduled for April 5. Organized by progressive groups and aimed at challenging the policies of Trump and Elon Musk, this national day of action is expected to draw thousands across the country. The issues at the heart of these protests are very serious—cuts to Medicaid, threats to Social Security, Veterans, Jobs, and attacks on democracy itself.
But I’ve been watching something else unfold—something quieter, but just as powerful. Across Black social media, there’s been a different kind of organizing happening. A movement of people saying: Not this time. We’re sitting this one out.
Now, if you’re not part of those conversations or seen these social media posts, it might be easy to dismiss that decision as apathy. But it’s not apathy. It’s strategy. It’s protection. It’s a response born from history and lived experience.
Many Black folks are opting out of April 5 because we’ve seen this play out before. We’ve shown up in droves for causes, and we've taken risks in the streets for doing so. And in today’s climate, where threats of violence are real and the memory of disproportionate police response is fresh, some are asking a very reasonable question: Is it safe for me to be there?
We've marched, we've organized, we've shut down streets. From Selma to Ferguson to 2020, our bodies have always been on the frontlines—often without protection, often without recognition. And too often, once the dust settled, we were left out of the story entirely.
Some are saying no.
And here’s the deeper truth: Many Black folks are tired. Tired of marching for justice only to see the same systems stay intact. Tired of fighting battles that don’t center our needs. And many of us are still angry, that in the 2024 election, 57 percent of white people voted to elect President Donald Trump a second time. Now, it seems some of them are having buyers remorse and are preparing to get in formation to let him know how they feel about him. Angry that once again, we're expected to risk our bodies while others organize rallies that may not fully account for our safety or our history. That anger is righteous. That exhaustion is earned.
In fact, I want to affirm that all forms of protest matter. Whether you’re marching, organizing, creating, educating, resting, voting, or buying from Black owned business, if you are working toward justice, you are doing sacred work.
Black TikTokers and other social media influencers played a key role in shaping this narrative. They creatively used humor and popular trends to advise against participating in the April 5th demonstrations. Some made hilarious videos with captions. The message is funny on the surface, but serious at its core. Some believe Trump could use this mass gathering as a reason to invoke martial law. And based on things he’s said in recent interviews, that fear isn’t unfounded.
In the viral videos flooding Black TikTok, folks are channeling something deeper—a kind of ancestral knowing that says, “protect yourself first.” That wisdom doesn’t always show up with a megaphone in the streets. Sometimes it’s a reminder from generations past that says, “Preserve your body, your spirit, and your energy. There’s more than one way to fight.”
In Jewish tradition, we say pikuach nefesh docheh et haShabbat—saving a life overrides even our holiest obligations. Sometimes, the most radical act is not showing up, but staying alive. Our ancestors knew this, and Black folks today still carry that wisdom.
Watch:
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Watch:
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Instead of protesting in person, some are spending April 5th supporting Black-owned businesses, taking care of their mental health, or deepening their organizing efforts on the local level. Others are investing in voter mobilization, especially as we prepare for another high-stakes election. That is protest too.
Support a Black-owned bookstore, grab lunch from a Black-owned café, or donate to a mutual aid fund. Plug into a local organizing hub. Or just rest, knowing rest itself is resistance.
So if you feel called to hit the streets, do it. But if your gut tells you not to go—if your spirit says “not this time”—listen to that too. There is no one way to protest. What matters is that we keep working for change.
Our commitment to justice isn’t defined by one moment or one action—it lives in how we care for each other over time. Whether you show up in the streets, at the polls, or by nourishing your spirit and community from home, your presence and intention matter. Every choice to resist injustice and affirm life is part of the movement.
We are powerful—whether we march or not—because we’ve always known how to make a way out of no way.
Do what feels safe. Do what feels true. Just don’t do nothing. Because in this moment, every act of resistance counts.
May we all have the courage to show up for justice in the ways that are true to us. And may our ancestors be proud of the fight we continue—in whatever form it takes.
Completely understandable. It's well past time for white folks (like me) to speak out in greater numbers. I'll be out there tomorrow on behalf of all people who are being harmed by this administration.
Thank you for putting things into perspective.