Good Trouble Lives – How the Legacy of John Lewis Is Reclaiming America’s Streets

It wasn’t a day of giants, but of the many. Not a march with grand speeches, but a beginning in small groups, decentralized, creative, determined. And yet, in some cities, it was the masses that moved. On July 17, exactly five years after the death of John Lewis, tens of thousands took to the streets across the US – under the motto the civil rights leader himself had coined: “Good Trouble Lives On.” In metropolises like Chicago, Atlanta, Minneapolis, Sacramento, and Los Angeles, more than 10,000 people gathered – united in protest against Donald Trump’s policies, in memory of Lewis, and in the hope that his vision would not fade. It was a day of quiet defiance, of colorful umbrellas, of old songs and new confidence. And it was a day that made visible that resistance does not have to be loud to be heard - but sometimes it does.

In New Haven, Connecticut, hundreds gathered on the Green – the square where once slave markets were held, where later speakers of the abolitionist movement spoke, and where now the echo of Lewis’ legacy could be heard. On banners stood phrases like: “We make good trouble in bad times.” In Denver, around 2,000 demonstrators marched through the city center, many in T-shirts bearing the silhouette of the congressman who once walked from Selma to Montgomery – and almost died doing so. In Minneapolis – the symbolic place of the George Floyd protests – thousands gathered, supported by dozens of organizations, churches, and African American groups. In Sacramento, the protest march stretched for kilometers all the way to the State Capitol, accompanied by musicians, activists, and student groups. In total, protests took place in over 1,600 locations. Sometimes with dozens, sometimes hundreds, and in many places with thousands. In Washington, D.C., it was only two dozen – but they carried painted umbrellas, each one a colorful echo of what Lewis meant when he said: “If you see something that is not right - say something. Do something.”

Lewis was not a man of pose. He was not a loudspeaker. He was a conscience. When he was almost beaten to death by police on the Edmund Pettus Bridge in Selma during “Bloody Sunday” in 1965, he was just 25 years old. Later, he served over three decades in the US Congress – and there became a living reminder of a time when democracy was defended with blood. Today, in an era in which the very concept of democracy is questioned, in which President Trump openly attacks courts, media, and minorities, Lewis’ legacy seems more necessary than ever. “Good Trouble” was never just a slogan – it was a call to action, an ethical principle, a compass. Those who take to the streets with it today are not just opposing a government – but standing for an idea of America that is in danger of being lost. That July 17 was not exclusively marked by mass rallies says little about the strength of the movement – and much about its structure. “Good Trouble Lives On” was deliberately organized in a decentralized way, supported by grassroots groups, churches, migrant initiatives, students, caregivers, veterans. In Houston, it was only a few dozen, but they stayed for hours, danced, discussed, read texts by Audre Lorde and Angela Davis. In some places there were candlelight vigils, in others roundtable discussions in public squares. And yet all of it formed a picture: America is alive – and it is fighting. What remains is more than just an anniversary. It is the awareness that democracy is not given. That the memory of John Lewis needs no monument, but people who keep walking where he left off. People who understand that “good trouble” is not mischief, but civic courage. Perhaps July 17 will never become an official holiday – but it is already a day on which America’s conscience rises. Not to shout. But to remember. And to act.