Redefining Resistance: Why Black America Might Sit Out the April 5th Protests

Chapters

• 0:00 The Power of Black Absence
• 3:42 Historical Weight of Black Participation
• 5:55 Non-Participation as Strategic Resistance
• 7:54 Presence Without Protection
• 9:51 The Loudness of Silence
• 12:05 Choosing Yourself as Self-Protection
• 14:23 Beyond the Moment: Conscious Disengagement
• 16:27 April 5th as a Mirror
• 18:36 Building Beyond Absence
• 20:32 Conclusion: The Power of Saying No

Transcript

Speaker 1: 0:00

What if the most powerful act of resistance on April 5th isn't marching in the streets or chanting through megaphones, but choosing not to show up at all? What if, just for once, black America decided that our absence could speak louder than our presence? While the nation prepares for the mass hands-off protests fueled by a collective outrage and desire for justice, there is a deeper question that must be asked Whose justice are we marching for, and why are we still expected to carry movements that continue to abandon us when it matters most? We have been the heartbeat of every major protest in modern history, lending our voices, our bodies, our trauma and our resilience to causes that rarely protect us when the dust settles. We've marched until our feet blistered. We've yelled until our throats burn, and still we find ourselves sidelined, tokenized or outright betrayed. So perhaps this time it's time to do something different. Perhaps this time we protest through absence, through stillness, through deliberate silence, because absence, when strategic, becomes a mirror, a void that forces the nation to look at itself and ask the uncomfortable question where did they go and why? Choosing not to participate is not apathy, it's awareness, it's wisdom, it's a refusal to be the dependable labor behind movements that do not love us back. It's time to reclaim our energy. It's time to disrupt the cycle of performative unity. April 5th is approaching and this time, our silence may be the loudest thing they hear.

Speaker 1: 1:40

Before we go any further, I want to invite you to make sure you're locked in with me across all platforms. If you haven't already, take a moment to subscribe to Life Points with Rhonda on your favorite podcast platform. Join the conversation on YouTube at Life Points with Rhonda 2968, and follow me on Instagram, facebook and Patreon under Life Points with Rhonda. Everything you need resources, coaching, blog articles and exclusive content can be found on my website at lifepointswithrhondacom. Your support helps amplify these necessary conversations and when you share this message, you're helping others protect their peace, their power and their purpose. Welcome back to Life Points with Rhonda, where we have the real conversations that help you heal, grow and step fully into your power emotionally, spiritually, financially and beyond. I'm your host, rhonda, and today's episode is one that may challenge some minds and shift some perspectives, but that's exactly what we're here to do.

Speaker 1: 2:46

As we prepare for the hands-off rally scheduled nationwide on April 5th, there's an urgent need to talk about something different, something often overlooked in the heat of protest, and that's the power of absence, the strategic, intentional choice not to participate, not because we don't care, not because we're indifferent, but because we've learned the hard way that showing up doesn't always mean we're seen, valued or protected. Today we're going to take a deep dive into what it means for Black America to sit this one out, and how that silence, that stillness, can be a revolutionary act all by itself. We'll explore the historical weight of our presence, the cost of always showing up, and why now might be the time to reclaim our protest through non-participation, because sometimes withholding our power makes a louder statement than pouring it into spaces that don't pour back into us the Weight of Our Presence. A history of Black participation in protest movements. Throughout history, black people in America have been the soul of social justice movements, showing up, speaking out, sacrificing and standing in the face of danger to push the needle of progress forward. From the civil rights movement to Black Lives Matter, from labor strikes to anti-war demonstrations, our bodies have often been on the front lines and too often our blood has been spilled in the name of causes that, while noble in theory, rarely deliver the liberation we deserve in reality.

Speaker 1: 4:22

Let's be honest there is a longstanding pattern of Black pain being used to validate broader struggles. Our trauma is broadcasted for momentum, our slogans are adopted, our faces placed on posters and our cultural resilience turned into rallying cries. But when the dust settles and the crowd disperses, it is not uncommon for our issues to be deprioritized, our communities to be left behind and our people to be forgotten. We become the backbone of movements that were never truly designed to hold us upright. It's a hard truth, but one we must speak, because to understand why absence might be necessary on April 5th, we must first acknowledge how deeply our presence has been exploited. We have marched alongside allies who turned silent when police brutality targets Black bodies specifically. We have protested for reproductive rights, only to see Black maternal mortality statistics ignored. We have stood for justice, only to be gaslit into believing that our suffering must be shared equally by those who've never walked in our shoes. This isn't bitterness. This is clarity. It is not our job to carry every movement. It is not our duty to always be the moral compass of America. There is power in choosing when and where we invest our energy, and there is wisdom in realizing that every movement is not our movement. Just because something looks like justice doesn't mean it will lead to liberation for all.

Speaker 1: 5:54

Strategic resistance. Why? Non-participation is not apathy. Too often, when Black people choose not to show up, we're labeled as apathetic, uninformed or disengaged. But that narrative is both unfair and dangerously misleading. The truth is, choosing not to participate can be one of the most strategic, intentional and powerful forms of protest available to us, especially when our participation has historically been taken for granted. Non-participation is not the absence of care. It's the presence of discernment. It is a deliberate act of boundary setting. It is saying I see what's happening, I understand the stakes, but I also know the cost of constantly sacrificing myself for movements that do not center my survival. Silence, when chosen with wisdom, can become a form of sovereignty For black communities.

Speaker 1: 6:49

This moment calls for a different kind of resistance, one that centers preservation over performance. Because, if we're honest, many of us are tired. Tired of fighting every battle, tired of carrying every burden, tired of being the unacknowledged foundation of every movement that demands our labor, but rarely reclaim our time. We reclaim our breath, we reclaim our strategy. We give ourselves permission to choose how we resist and, more importantly, when we resist. Sometimes, the best way to interrupt the system is not by flooding the streets, but by removing our presence so profoundly that it can no longer be ignored. There is a lesson in the system in knowing when to step back, when to let others carry the torch, when to say we've done enough for now. Our silence is not surrender, it is a calculated disruption, it is a refusal to be used, tokenized or taken for granted.

Speaker 1: 7:48

Yet again, presence without protection, the unspoken cost of always showing up. There's a painful irony in always being present. We show up in movements that ask for our bodies, our energy, our labor and our spirit, but when the rubber meets the road, where is the protection? Where is the policy change that centers our safety? Where is the follow-through that acknowledges the specific generational trauma that Black communities carry? Presence without protection is not solidarity, it's exploitation dressed in activism. Time and again, we've poured into causes that crumble when it comes to defending us. We show up for women's rights, and yet Black women continue to die in childbirth at staggering rates. We fight for immigrant justice, but Black immigrants are disproportionately deported. We chant for police reform only to watch the names of our brothers and sisters added to yet another heartbreaking list, and somehow our grief becomes public currency, while our dignity remains underfunded.

Speaker 1: 8:54

Showing up has a cost An emotional, physical, spiritual and even financial toll that we carry long after the cameras have gone home and the hashtags have faded, and when the smoke clears, we are left to pick up the pieces again. We are left to explain ourselves again. We are left to wonder why our presence was needed, but our protection was not prioritized. This is why absence can be more than a protest. It can be an act of healing. It can be the first time we say not. This time not at the expense of our peace, our sanity, our lives. By choosing to sit this one out, we give ourselves room to breathe, room to protect our own room, to rebuild our energy and our focus for the battles that do belong to us. We're no longer interested in being the background of everyone else's revolution. We are reclaiming our own.

Speaker 1: 9:47

The loudness of silence, how absence forces the nation to look inward. There's something deeply unsettling about an empty space that was once filled with energy. Silence, when expected Voices are missing, becomes a spotlight. It forces people to pause, to look around, to ask questions. It creates a discomfort that no chant or slogan ever could, and in that discomfort, transformation begins. When Black people choose not to show up intentionally, it disturbs the rhythm. The absence is felt. It creates a visible void in movements that have grown accustomed to our unwavering support. It exposes the fragility of coalitions that depended on us but never truly supported us, and it pushes the entire nation to examine what that absence really means.

Speaker 1: 10:34

Silence can be haunting, it can be heavy, but in protest, silence can also be sacred. It's a moment to disrupt the performance of unity and force people to sit in the reality that something is missing and that something is us. When we withhold our participation, we also withhold our validation, and without our validation, many of these movements lose their moral compass. There's power in making others ask where are they? Why didn't they come? That simple question is a seed. It plants introspection. It challenges assumptions. It makes people confront whether their cause truly includes us or whether we've simply been convenient mascots for their discomfort with the status quo. In this season, silence is not weakness, it's wisdom. It's knowing that we don't need to fill every space to prove our worth. It's understanding that our absence can stir more change than our presence ever has. If it forces the right people to finally take a long, hard look in the mirror, april 5th could be the day the world realizes what happens when Black America simply stops showing up and when they notice that void, the message will be undeniable we're not here to be seen, we're here to be respected. And until that happens, we choose ourselves.

Speaker 1: 11:56

Choosing yourself how strategic withdrawal becomes a form of protection In a world that constantly demands our labor, our outrage and our loyalty. Choosing yourself can feel rebellious, and for Black people, especially Black women, that choice often comes with guilt Guilt for not showing up, guilt for not carrying yet another cause, guilt for placing self-preservation over solidarity. But here's the truth Protecting your peace is not betrayal, it's survival. Strategic withdrawal is not about disengagement. It's about discernment, it's about knowing when your presence is powerful and when it's being drained, and it's about recognizing that saying no to participation is sometimes the most loving thing you can do for yourself, your family and your community. We have to unlearn the idea that rest is weakness, that stillness is laziness, that not marching means we don't care, because the systems we're fighting are relentless and we cannot pour from a dry well. We deserve rest, we deserve space, we deserve the right to choose where our energy flows and to whom.

Speaker 1: 13:06

Choosing yourself on April 5th might look like staying home and lighting a candle for your ancestors. It might look like gathering in community spaces that affirm your humanity. It might mean writing, praying, meditating or simply being without pressure to perform. That too is resistance. We need to normalize the idea that healing is revolutionary, that unplugging from movements that are not rooted in our protection is an act of wisdom, not weakness. We are not obligated to attend every protest, every march, every cause, especially when the return on that investment continues to leave us empty and unseen. This is not about apathy. It's about alignment Alignment with your spirit, alignment with your purpose, alignment with your peace. So, when April 5th comes and the world turns its gaze to the crowds in the streets, alignment with your spirit, alignment with your purpose, alignment with your peace. So, when April 5th comes and the world turns its gaze to the crowds in the streets, let them also feel the weight of our collective decision to choose not to be there. Let them feel the strength of our boundaries. Let them wonder why the soul of the movement, the pulse that is Black America, chose silence instead of sacrifice.

Speaker 1: 14:19

Beyond the moment, the long-term power of conscious disengagement. It's easy to view protest as a one-day act, a moment in time where we raise our voices, gather in solidarity and demand change. But real transformation isn't built on moments alone. It's built on movements, and movements require sustainability. That's where conscious disengagement becomes not just a strategy but a foundation for long-term liberation. When we step back, we create space to reflect, to reassess and to recalibrate. We begin to ask deeper questions Are we aligning with causes that reflect our values? Are we being heard, not just seen? Are our communities actually being protected, nourished and empowered, or are we simply being used to boost credibility and visibility for others? Conscious disengagement allows us to shift our focus from external validation to internal alignment. It calls us to pour into the grassroots efforts within our own neighborhoods, to invest in Black-led initiatives, to prioritize mutual aid, economic empowerment, mental health, spiritual grounding and cultural preservation. These are not passive acts. These are revolutionary acts of self and community liberation. By withdrawing from spaces that fail to honor us, we redirect that energy into building what truly sustains us, and that's where real power lives, not in being seen on a stage that doesn't serve us, but in constructing a world where we don't have to beg for inclusion in the first place. We must think. Long-term Liberation is not a performance, it's a commitment, and part of that commitment is knowing when to step back, when to heal, when to regroup and when to reclaim.

Speaker 1: 16:03

The April 5th protest may come and go, but the ripples of our absence, if rooted in strategy and truth, can echo far beyond a single day. In choosing not to show up, we are showing ourselves something far more valuable the blueprint for our own freedom. April 5th as a mirror, redefining boundaries, power and protest in Black America. April 5th is more than just a date. It's a mirror. It's an invitation to look inward, to reevaluate our patterns and to shift the way we engage with protest and with power.

Speaker 1: 16:39

For so long, black America has been conditioned to believe that being present is the only way to prove our commitment, that showing up is the highest form of activism. But what if presence without boundaries is just another form of control? What April 5th offers us is an opportunity to redefine the terms, to say I can care deeply and still choose my own well-being. I can want justice and still prioritize where and how I fight for it. This is the evolution of protest not just what we're fighting against, but how we're choosing to fight and, more importantly, what we're no longer willing to fight for when it doesn't fight for us in return.

Speaker 1: 17:21

Our power is not rooted in always being available. It's rooted in our ability to discern what is worthy of our presence, to say no with confidence, to protect our energy without apology, to teach our children that resistance is not just marching, it's knowing your worth, guarding your peace and refusing to be used. This moment calls for emotional maturity, spiritual clarity and cultural self-respect. It challenges us to release the guilt we've inherited and embrace a deeper truth that we are not obligated to participate in every struggle. We are not obligated to participate in every struggle, especially when our own liberation is not at the center of it. April 5th could be a cultural pivot, a day we remember as the moment we chose to stop being performative participants and became intentional architects of our own freedom. This is not about abandoning the fight. It's about choosing a better battlefield, one where our souls aren't constantly depleted, one where our presence is respected, not just relied upon, One where our power is honored, not borrowed, not repackaged, but truly seen, still building, taking meaningful action Beyond April 5th.

Speaker 1: 18:36

Choosing absence on April 5th is not the end. It's the beginning of a new way forward, a more intentional path, a protest that doesn't always require pavement beneath your feet, but instead purpose behind your choices, because even in our stillness we are building. Even in our silence we are creating waves. The work doesn't stop because we don't show up to the rally. The real work healing, organizing, building institutions, teaching our children, investing in ourselves, preserving our culture that work is always happening. The difference is we're doing it on our terms and when we operate from that place of sovereignty, we stop seeking permission to disengage, we stop explaining our boundaries, we stop apologizing to disengage, we stop explaining our boundaries, we stop apologizing for protecting our own.

Speaker 1: 19:22

What does meaningful action look like beyond April 5th? It looks like redirecting our time and money into Black-owned businesses and community organizations. It looks like learning our history and teaching it to others unfiltered, unwatered down and full of truth. It looks like starting therapy, meditating, praying and reconnecting with our ancestors for guidance. It looks like checking on your neighbor, feeding your community, mentoring our youth and building wealth that can't be erased with a headline or stolen by another movement. Most importantly, it looks like understanding that protest is not one-dimensional. It lives in every choice we make to protect our joy, our minds, our spirit and our futures. Liberation is not an event, it's a lifestyle, and that means we get to shape it in a way that sustains us, not depletes us. So, even as the chants rise on April 5th, let our silence be sacred, let it be powerful, let it be the beginning of a more grounded revolution, one where we don't burn out but instead burn brighter from within.

Speaker 1: 20:28

Conclusion the power of saying no and the relationship to self. April 5th will come and go, but what remains is the lesson, the quiet, fierce reminder that we don't have to show up everywhere to prove that we matter, that sometimes the most radical thing you can do is say no, no to burnout, no to tokenism, no to being everyone's backbone but your own. And in saying no to the world, you say yes to yourself, because at the core of every protest is a relationship with self, with community, with purpose, and if that relationship isn't rooted in respect, alignment and truth, it will never bear fruit. Today's episode isn't just about politics or protests. It's about boundaries, value and liberation on your own terms. It's about remembering that you are not obligated to perform resistance just to be seen. You are already enough, already powerful, already whole, whether you march or meditate, speak or stay silent. Your power is in your choice, and that, beloved, is what makes absence revolutionary it puts you back in control of your narrative and reminds the world that our presence is not a given it's earned, and when it's missing, it's felt.

Speaker 1: 21:48

So, as April 5th approaches, I invite you to reflect. Where have you been showing up out of obligation instead of alignment? What movements are you participating in that don't truly reflect your values? And, most importantly, what would it feel like to give yourself full permission to just be? Final call to action, if this episode spoke to your spirit today, take a moment to breathe, to reflect and to share.

Speaker 1: 22:17

Share this message with someone who's been caring too much, someone who's been afraid to say no, someone who needs the reminder that choosing themselves is not only okay, it's necessary. Make sure you're subscribed to Life Points with Rhonda on all major podcast platforms so you never miss an episode. You can find me on YouTube at Life Points with Rhonda 2968, and follow me on Instagram, facebook and Patreon at Life Points with Rhonda For coaching courses, consultations or to connect deeper. Visit my website at lifepointswithrhondacom. Remember, protest comes in many forms. Let yours be rooted in love, wisdom and protection of self, because when you honor your boundaries, you teach the world how to honor you too. Until next time, protect your peace. Thank you, thank you.