There’s More to the March: Why the Fight for Justice Is Getting Louder
Anti-Trump protests have more than doubled since 2017— and it’s not just Black folks in the streets anymore.
The chants are familiar. The signs look the same. But the crowds? They’re changing.
In February 2017, just 937 protests were recorded across the United States. Eight years later, in February 2025, that number has more than doubled to over 2,085. And the catalyst, in many ways, is the same name that’s defined so much unrest over the past decade: Donald Trump.
But this isn’t 2017. The protests happening now are broader, louder, and more multiracial than many expected. “I went to the protest and surveyed the crowds and talked to people. There were some Black protestors, but not many relative to the large Black population in the city,” author and MSNBC analyst Charles Blow said while in Atlanta over the weekend.
While Black folks have always shown up, marched, and resisted — what we’re seeing in 2025 feels different. Not because we’re new to the fight. But because more people are now showing up beside us.
The moment isn’t new, but it is more crowded. And that alone begs the question: why now?
The Trump Effect, Revisited
The latest wave of anti-Trump protests has been fueled by more than his presence in office. His second-term administration has gone even further — rolling back civil rights enforcement, slashing Medicaid and ACA protections, gutting diversity initiatives, and pushing to eliminate the Department of Education.
For many Black people, this is no surprise. The erasure of history, the restriction of bodily autonomy, and the suppression of protest — these are not new patterns. They are old strategies repackaged for a new era.
Other Americans are facing threats they never expected to encounter in their lifetime: book bans, surveillance, reproductive repression, and policies that disregard privacy, truth, and autonomy. His policies are reaching into classrooms, courtrooms, and even down grocery store aisles. The erosion of democracy is no longer abstract. And now, it seems as if they’re beginning to understand what it means to live in a nation that doesn’t guarantee justice.
Where it Starts, It Spreads
For Black communities, particularly in the South, this moment feels familiar and expansive. As the frequent epicenter of civil rights struggles and the birthplace of movements that eventually resonated nationwide, the South sounded the alarm long before it rang in anyone else’s ears. For instance, the 1960 sit-in at a Woolworth's lunch counter in Greensboro, North Carolina, initiated by four Black college students, sparked a series of nonviolent protests across multiple states, challenging racial segregation in public spaces. Similarly, Rosa Parks' 1955 act of defiance on a Montgomery bus led to the Montgomery Bus Boycott, a significant milestone that galvanized national attention toward racial injustice.
These Southern-led actions addressed local injustices and set the stage for federal interventions, such as the Civil Rights Act of 1964, which aimed to dismantle segregation across the country.
The South has warned that the erosion of rights for one group often signals a louder collapse. How quickly a policy change becomes a life change — how school segregation, mass incarceration, and voter suppression don't just happen overnight, but creep in through loopholes and over time. Where it starts is where it spreads — and now it’s spreading. The rollback of civil rights protections, the attack on public education, the criminalization of protest — all of it bears the fingerprints of a nation unraveling. And for once, more than just Black folks are being forced to reckon with that truth.
This Isn’t a Celebration
To be clear, this isn’t about validation. What’s happening now is worth documenting not because it’s new, but because it’s revealing. And I’m not entirely convinced this is a full-out awakening of moral consciousness. What I do know is that sometimes, when power begins to crush those it used to protect, resistance becomes personal. To put it plainly, the increase in protests isn't necessarily a sign that more people understand what Black folks have always endured — it’s that they’re starting to experience it themselves. And while that kind of awakening may not always be reliable, it’s still worth observing.
Black communities have carried the weight of this country’s contradictions for centuries. We’ve marched when it was lonely. We’ve protested when it was dangerous. We’ve resisted when it cost us jobs, homes, and lives. If others are now willing to step into the street, they must also know they’re not just protesting a president. They’re protesting a system we’ve fought against all along. Understand you’re not starting the fight — you’re arriving in the middle of it.
Solidarity built on shared pain isn’t always sustainable, so I am interested to see what happens next. But thus far, it’s telling — because sometimes it’s when the fire spreads that people finally notice the smoke.
13 & South is a new publication covering news, investigative stories, and insights on social justice, policy, and systemic inequities impacting Southern Black communities. I value your insights, and feedback and invite your perspectives to contribute to future issues. Please feel free to contact me here or follow me on my socials! LinkedIn, Twitter, IG, BlueSky, and Threads.