At the dawn of Black History Month, we are confronting a dangerous reality: hard-won rights secured during the Civil Rights Movement are being systematically eroded in plain sight.
The attack on voting rights has intensified across the country—through voter suppression laws, gerrymandering, purges of voter rolls, and efforts to criminalize civic participation. These assaults are not accidental. They are deliberate strategies designed to silence Black voters and communities of color whose political power has grown over the last generation.
At the same time, the targeting of immigrants—particularly asylum seekers—has escalated with alarming speed. Elected officials, journalists, judges, and advocates of color are increasingly subjected to harassment, intimidation, and threats simply for doing their jobs or speaking the truth. These attacks are meant to send a message: visibility will be punished, dissent will be crushed, and justice will be delayed through fear.
The rollback of diversity, equity, and inclusion initiatives alongside the dismantling of affirmative action represents another front in this coordinated effort. Under the guise of “neutrality” and “fairness,” policies designed to address centuries of exclusion are being stripped away. The result is not fair, it is a return to structural inequality, reinforced by fear and silence.
History teaches us that progress is never permanent.
Every right we celebrate this month—voting access, fair housing protections, equal employment opportunity, the right to protest—was won through sustained resistance, not passive remembrance. Those victories were not gifted by benevolence; they were demanded by people who refused to accept injustice as inevitable.
We cannot afford complacency.
Now is not the time for silence.
Now is not the time for timidity.
Now is not the time to confuse civility with justice.
The forces seeking to roll back civil rights are counting on exhaustion, fragmentation, and fear. They are betting that we will grow tired, retreat inward, or convince ourselves that someone else will carry the burden of resistance.
But Black History Month reminds us of a different legacy.
It reminds us that ordinary people, students, faith leaders, workers, mothers, and elders changed the course of this nation by refusing to stand down. They organized it when it was dangerous. They spoke when it was costly. They marched when the law told them not to.
In Minnesota, communities have shown remarkable determination in standing up to the harsh tactics of ICE, refusing to allow fear and intimidation to undermine their resolve. Local organizers, faith groups, and neighbors have mobilized in support of immigrants facing detention and deportation, demonstrating solidarity through legal aid, rapid response networks, and public advocacy. Their commitment sends a powerful message: the pursuit of justice will not be halted by threats or raids, and Minnesotans will continue to defend the rights and dignity of every resident, regardless of immigration status.
The work before us is not new, but it is urgent.
Defending voting rights.
Protecting immigrants and asylum seekers.
Advancing racial and economic justice.
Resisting the criminalization of poverty and protest.
These struggles are inseparable, and they demand our full participation.
Black History Month is not a pause for reflection alone—it is a recommitment. A reminder that justice is not self-executing and freedom is not self-sustaining.
The fight continues because it must.
And history is watching what we do next.
Written by Donald Whitehead, Executive Director of the National Coalition for the Homeless
