As my dad says, “You may think one small person may never make a difference, but have you ever been trapped in a tent with a mosquito?” Or in some cases, as spider? A mouse?

I participated in my first protest when I was 9. My dad worked as a police officer in our small town of Redding, and in 1992, the department cut pay, benefits and positions from our local police force. Ever the aspiring daddy’s-girl, I was ready to fight and be noisy in the face of anything that made our family feel stress. I am the only daughter sandwiched between two brothers, neither of whom share my passion for verbosity and justice. This was long before the world and family system attempted to reign in my voice, keeping my shape and ideas palpable and pleasing to those around me. Before I knew that I was born to breed, and before I became crippled with self-doubt and codependency. There is a photo somewhere in the newpaper of a little girl with a big sign who knew that one voice shouting was better than 100 silent ones.

In college, I participated in a protest for the Child Soldiers in Darfur. I watched the documentaries, attended the meetings of local volunteer chapters, donated what little I could and stood on a street corner waving a sign at passive cars instead of attending my Pedagogical Grammar class. I was 21.

As an English professor, just 2 years into my career, I held a walk-out in 2018 to support Dr. Christine Blasey Ford, who accused Brett Kavanaugh of sexually assaulting her during a high school party in the early 1980s. Additionally, Deborah Ramirez later accused him of exposing himself to her during their time at Yale University. Despite this, he was confirmed to the Supreme Court, and these women lost their livelihoods, safety and had to submit traumatic testimony, all for nothing. The #BelieveSurvivors campaign started globally, and I was proud to support my students’ right to protest this injustice. Even when the outcome mirrored a man’s comfort and a man’s truth, we weren’t silent and resigned.

Today, I took my sons to the No Kings Protest in Frankfurt, Germany. I wanted them to feel like they had the opportunity to witness and share the energy of those brave enough to speak up. “If the world is going to go down, I will go down swinging and screaming.” When you stand firm and speak with one voice against tyranny—be it systemic injustice, bullying, discrimination, or any abuse of power—you show your children what it means to live with integrity.

Children learn by watching. When they see you refuse to be silent in the face of wrongdoing, they understand that doing what’s right matters more than staying comfortable or safe. Isn’t what I teach them with our faith? Isn’t that what their school teaches them about bullying? Isn’t that what integrity is?

I want my sons to understand that they aren’t too small to have an opinion. They aren’t too small to have questions and find answers to life’s largest quandries. They are valuable humans on the planet, even at 14, 10 and 7 years old. They matter.

Once the marching started, circled back and concluded, the microphone was open. With the electric energy of those standing up for democracy, Ukraine, Palestine, Pride and everything in between, I walked up those steps, looked my sons in the eye and reminded them of a few things:

Teaching Courage and Responsibility

One voice can feel small, especially against the weight of power or collective silence. But when you use that voice anyway, your children learn that courage isn’t about being fearless—it’s about doing what needs to be done despite the fear. You show them that each person bears responsibility for shaping the kind of world we live in. God gave us conviction for a reason. In this current climate, the love of God is being twisted to harm and isolate others, and it is our responsibility to counter hate with love and inclusion.

Fostering Unity and Resilience

When parents present a united front in teaching their children about justice, values, and empathy, the message is stronger and clearer. That unity offers children a sense of stability, resilience, and a clear moral compass in confusing or troubling times. My sons are half-Mexican, so they have genuine fear for their abuelita and tia in Chicago suburbs. They have gone through the immigration process, but with work visas, Green Cards and other legitimate papers being ripped out of the hands of immigrants, their safety is uncertain. I want my sons to feel like they can show support and solidarity, even from Europe. While only God knows how and when this will end, or how the scars of those impacted will heal, they can find comfort in knowing they didn’t stand idly by. They are allies-in-training.

Empowering the Next Generation

Perhaps most importantly, when a parent speaks out—against injustice in society or unhealthy dynamics in everyday life—they pass the torch. You teach your children that their voice matters too. That they are not powerless. That even one person standing up and saying “no” to tyranny can be a spark that lights others’ courage. Time is our most precious currency, and even before they earn one dollar, my sons have time to spend. To spend reading banned books and asking age-appropriate questions. To spend meeting new people and showing the love and acceptance of Jesus to all whom they encounter. To spend thinking about what makes them tick, makes them come alive, makes them nervous, and makes them excited. Later, this will hopefully help them discern their social group, their habits, hobbies and investments.

In essence, a parent’s voice carries weight—not just in what is said, but in what is modeled. By speaking with one voice in the face of tyranny, you don’t just resist injustice—you raise children who will know how to do the same. They are always watching. School is always in session. I am never off the clock. My comfort isn’t more important than the rights of others and my responsibility to stand up when and if I can.