Protest movements shift minds long before they lead to action. This is by nature and design. The welling up of anger within a community brings individuals together in collective motion around a unified thought: “We’re fed up, things must change.” What begins as expressions of anger can, through protest, lead to catharsis, as individuals consolidate in collective voice, and step in syncopated rhythm to affirm each other’s demands for attention. Those calls are heard through the chanting of mantras that penetrate our consciousness. “Black Lives Matter!” The resonance of that phrase conjures history, carrying forward the pain of ancestors to demand a new future of our own making. “No Justice, No Peace!” Voices coalesce to will thought into matter. “What Do We Want?!” Call and response models our desire to turn anger into dialogue, and dialogue into active change.

But these moments of protest risk being just that: moments. The mantras seep into our consciousness. The marching exorcises pain from the body. Signs and banners amplify personal or branded messages that provide visual evidence: we are here—we were there. But then what? The power of a protest—witnessed either from the safety of COVID-mandated isolation or on the front lines of a protest march—is in its performance of solidarity, but that same performance risks becoming an empty or one-time gesture unless it is coupled with sustained action.