Very often, to simply exist is in itself an act of protest. It is you against a system that denies you. A system that tries every day, in every way, to completely break you apart and ensure that you are never put back together again. Never in the same way that threatens them.
And yet, relentlessly, we persevere. We continue to threaten them.
Take the current arrest of activists fighting for our freedom. Although behind bars, they continue to be a flaming symbol that lights up all our protests. We continue protesting for them like they were protesting for us.
All over the world today, there are many such acts of bravery, and in retaliation—cowardly attempts to shut them down.
But what these oppressors still haven’t realised is that a movement is never one person. It has never been. It has always been groups of people together, forced to risk it all because we threaten them. They don’t want us to be happy. They expect us to live in fear and awe of their brute force.
But we know that every bully is simply one who is riddled with insecurities that they cannot deal with. And so, to smile, write, be kind, angry, to love, shout, scream, speak—it is all an act of protest.
To live is an act of protest.