Rekindling Revolutions: Have We Lost Our Fire?

By: Makayla Rivera

When Spelman alumna and civil rights activist Ruby Doris Smith made the courageous decision to leave Spelman College in her junior year, she embarked on a journey of activism, organizing, and advocacy as the full-time Southern campus coordinator for the Student Nonviolent Coordinating Committee (SNCC). Despite enduring violence, countless arrests, and imprisonment, Smith remained committed to Black liberation. Though she later returned to Spelman, her decision to step away from her degree and risk her life for the cause truly embodied Spelman College's motto: a choice to change the world. So, why is it so difficult to imagine the Spelman students of today taking such bold steps toward freedom? 

Spelman professor Dr. Joan McCarty was only nineteen when she dropped out of college to join the Chicago chapter of the Black Panther Party, following the murder of her little sister's boyfriend by the Chicago police. After presenting a slideshow on the Black Panther Party in my African Diaspora and the World class, I asked my class of 33 students to close their eyes and raise their hands if they could honestly say that they would leave their beloved institution behind to join the Black Panther Party, if it existed today. Out of 33 girls, only three hesitantly raised their hands. It seemed to me that the youth of today are, if not more politically disengaged than our ancestors, certainly engaged differently. But why? 

Under Donald Trump’s oppressive administration, the call for change is loudly knocking at our doors. Are we too distracted, too comfortable, or too afraid to answer it?  Can our democracy survive if the college students of today aren’t there to protect it? 

The Roots of Youth Resistance 

Young people have long been at the heart of social justice movements, catalyzing some of the most impactful change our nation has ever seen. From the young abolitionists of the 1800s who aided fugitive enslaved people to the members of the Student Nonviolent Coordinating Committee (SNCC) who played a pivotal role in desegregation and the civil rights movement, youth activism has always been a powerful force for change.

In February of 1960, Black students in Greensboro, North Carolina, launched sit-ins to challenge segregation in restaurants and other public spaces.  SNCC was founded just two and a half months later. 

These young activists embodied a radical, unanticipated force, empowering their communities through grassroots organizing, demonstrations, and voter registration drives. After reading about the Greensboro sit-ins in the Atlanta Daily World, Morehouse College students Lonnie King, Joseph Pierce, and Julian Bond formed the Committee on Appeal for Human Rights (COAHR). On March 15, 1960, Spelman students Ruby Doris Smith and Gwen Isles, along with Bond and others, organized the first sit-ins in Atlanta. Over two hundred students sat in at eleven stores downtown, and 83 of them were arrested. Just six days earlier, COAHR’s “An Appeal for Human Rights”  had been published in the Atlanta Constitution, New York Times, and other major publications. This sparked what would be a sustained campaign of sit-ins and boycotts demanding an end to segregation. 

Students from Atlanta University, Clark College, Interdenominational Theological Center, Morehouse College, Morris Brown College, and Spelman College conducted marches, picketing, and sit-ins that resulted in the desegregation of restaurants, businesses, schools, housing, and hospitals in the city. 

During this same period, the Black Panther Party for Self Defense was founded in Oakland, California, in 1966 by Huey Newton and Bobby Seale. The party was a revolutionary force committed to Black power and Black liberation, with a focus on protecting Black citizens from police brutality, providing educational programs, and running community service initiatives. Youth were at the foundation of the party, most of them in their teens and twenties, organizing free breakfast programs, health clinics, and patrols to monitor police brutality. Many dropped out of college to join the party, prioritizing activism over a formal education. The Black Panther Party had a profound impact on American society, instilling beliefs of Black power, pride, and unity that empoweredpeople not only within the movement but across the world. The party's youth-driven presence kept it alive, purposeful, and in tune with the needs of the people. 

In this pivotal era, Spelman students risked their lives, compromised their grades, and jeopardized their careers to make Atlanta and the South more just. However, this activism was not without complications. President Albert Manley, who presided over Spelman College from 1953 to 1976, discouraged student participation in sit-ins and protests. A firm believer in respectability politics, Manley worried student activism would damage Spelman’s reputation and relationships with donors. Students were warned they could face expulsion or disciplinary action for engaging in protests without permission.

In 1960, Roslyn Pope, a senior at Spelman and author of the “Appeal for Human Rights,” faced backlash for her powerful public statement. Nevertheless, the pressure could not silence her: “I realized that I was jeopardizing my education, my future. But I had no choice. There were things that had to be said, and I had to say them.” 

The activism of youth during the civil rights era led to legislative and social changes that have upheld equality in America for the past six decades. The Civil Rights Act of 1964, the Voting Rights Act of 1965, and the rise of Black pride and unity can all be traced back to the activism of women like Roslyn Pope and Joan McCarty. 

However, these young advocates sacrificed their lives, educations, and reputations in the name of progress.  They faced violence at the hands of the government, police, or hate groups. Their youth was spent marching or behind bars instead of at graduation ceremonies. Many leaders were murdered, exiled, or put under lifelong FBI surveillance.  Entire communities and movements were destroyed through infiltration and violence. Fred Hampton, a leader within the Black Panther Party, was murdered by the FBI at only 21 years old while asleep in his apartment 

Can we expect the youth of today to truly stand undaunted by the fight if that fight might cost us our lives? 

From Sit-Ins to Screen Time

In spending much of my first year at Spelman focusing on political engagement of the past and present, I found myself frequently wondering if we’ve lost our fire. I doubted that we possessed the same courage, dedication, and selflessness to give up our lives to the cause. Sure, I have seen movements in my lifetime. I watched #MeToo and #BLM sweep over my For You page and attended a few local marches and protests in an attempt to combat sexual harassment and police brutality. But aside from the few social media influencers who have kept their Black Lives Matter highlights up on their pages, I watched the momentum fade. Even as our country said goodbye to affirmative action, Roe v. Wade, and diversity, equity, and inclusion- and major corporations invested in the death of millions in Gaza- I watched people tweet, repost, and maybe partake in a boycott or two. But eventually, the Starbucks and Target lines grew lengthy again, and people grew apathetic.

 Why weren’t we organizing, fighting, and unifying like we did in the past? And why didn’t our movements feel sustainable? 

I knew I couldn’t answer these questions alone, so I conducted interviews with AUC students and professors in search of understanding. Common threads appeared within these conversations, but one point became clear: it’s not that we no longer have movements—it’s that they function in entirely new ways.

We do have movements. From Black queer youth leading mutual aid networks to student-led protests at Columbia, Emory, Spelman, and Morehouse in support of Palestine or VP Kamala Harris, young people are still on the front lines. However, as Spelman Professor, Dr. Sarah Rudewalker pointed out, movements must evolve with the available tools and mediums of their time to mobilize around an issue. This makes movements of today look vastly different. “Thinking about the difference between the analog modes that people had to use in the 1950s, 60s, 70s, and the overwhelming digital modes of communication we have now, movements have needed to adjust to those circumstances and be different”. 

This shift to digital activism can be both powerful and paralyzing. Though it is easier today than ever before to share information and raise awareness, the surplus of content often leaves us all feeling helpless, distracted, and overwhelmed.“We can link the lack of longevity in modern movements to the way that we are able to get a lot of information very quickly now,” Rudewalker explained. “Things are trending and forgotten, and then you're distracted away from it.” The viral, “hard and fast” nature of online organizing may explain how a monumental uprising like 2020 Black Lives Matter so quickly lost traction, allowing for our nation to re-elect a racist bigot in 2025.

Further, the technology-based communications of today take away from the intimate, community-oriented nature of past movements. “If there's a protest happening in one locality, you don't need to depend now on the news stations and magazines to pick it up,” Rudewalker noted. While the seemingly unlimited access to information, commentary, and politics at our fingertips aids accessibility, it simultaneously stops us from engaging in conversations or movements as deeply. We are so flooded with information, and also divided in how we absorb that information. “In the 1960s, they probably had three channels, and they had to go to one house in their community that actually had a television and all digest and process the same information at once.” Those moments of shared experience are rare today, outside of periods like the COVID-19 lockdown, in which we all shifted our attention to the appalling footage of George Floyd’s murder as we remained trapped in our homes, united in anger by the blatant evidence of police brutality. 

Spelman junior Sophia Davis spoke to the addictive and destructive reality of life in this hyper-digital age. “Social media is terrible for us; it destroys our social skills, it completely wrecks our sense of time, sense of self, and our sense of how life is supposed to be documented and shared with other people.” This has stripped our society of our ability to build meaningful connections and resolve conflict. “There's a real risk that comes with engaging deeply and solving problems with other beings. It's really easy to run away from and avoid conflict when you have this little, glowing oracle that is just calling you to it all the time. It's easy to shy away from people. And that's what movement building is all about, it's about people.” If we can’t interact meaningfully with others, we can not organize, cooperate, and have collective passion. Sophia continued: 

We can only engage today on a surface level,” she continued.  “We're inundated with more advertisements, more music, more everything. It's really hard for us to engage deeply with anything. It's hard to engage deeply with your homework, with a book, with your friends. I feel so distracted all of the time. It's not just the social movements. That's just the nature of life right now. It is to exist in this constantly fractured state psychologically, where you can't pour so much of yourself into a single thing because you just don't have the mental capacity for it. 

To repair our society and movements, we must return to each other. We must mobilize, beyond screens, and learn to talk to each other and look one another in the eyes again. It is also crucial that we critique the apps and tech that govern our lives and the billionaires who have control over that governance. Meta CEO Mark Zuckerberg, for example, announced weeks before Donald Trump was elected that the social media giant would be getting rid of its fact-checkers, saying they have become “too politically biased.” Zuckerberg, at the same time, donated $1 million to Trump’s inauguration. To achieve real social progress, we need to divest from apps like Instagram and Twitter, run by men who value our dollars and addiction over our lives. If change is going to occur through social media, it will not be achieved under the censorship and ownership of those who are not on the side of democracy, liberation, or equality.

No Hero, No Problem

Moreover, a noticeable difference between modern movements and those of the past is the lack of visible leaders - idols who we can look to as the face of our resistance. Morehouse sophomore Clay Hudson explained, “When people have icons, it empowers them on a grassroots level. You had somebody to look to. As you are applying their philosophies to yourself, you are aspiring to be more like them. When leaders like Dr. King were assassinated, you had an influx of movements and “Dear Dr. King songs” in response.”

This passionate reaction to the lives of beloved activists, Clay argued, “becomes a function of art and a function of consciousness. Icons ignited people and kept movements alive. Their lives created a force and energy that moved discussion, culture, and activism. People organized around that.”

The presence of leaders as influential as Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. or Malcolm X no doubt motivated millions to fight. But at what cost? 

Professor Rudewalker encourages us to learn from leaders of the past rather than deeming modern movements insufficient without their reemergence, “People want to have this paradigm of a figurehead who is the symbol, the key of the movement. They don’t feel like they can point to the founders of Black Lives Matter in the same way they can Martin Luther King Jr., and they take the lack of a face tied to a movement as a moral failing. It turns into this critique. But what happened when you had a Dr. King? A Fred Hampton? You can't have all of your leaders be assassinated, persecuted, or put in prison because that makes the movement stop.” 

People long for superheroes to lead them towards justice. However, we must ensure that our leaders are protected to maintain longevity for our causes. We must come to understand the risks that accompany publicly leading a revolution in this country. It is important that we give visibility and support to movements of today, acknowledging that they do not need to be led by a conscious superstar to be urgent and real. We must learn to champion our own causes and organize behind movements we believe in, with or without a single name tied to the fight for our lives. 

Capital Over Consciousness 

Another shift from past eras is the comfort afforded to many of us as a result of earlier struggles. Today, Atlanta University Center (AUC) students and marginalized people in general have more access to the opportunities and resources needed to assimilate into the capitalistic “American dream” in ways our predecessors did not. This rise in Black classism and individualism has extinguished the revolutionary spark in many of us, killing our desire to wage a war on America.  In part because more of us are beginning to reap the benefits of the same systems that oppress us.

 In accordance with the assimilationist rhetoric that plagued Spelman’s past, our institutions today continue to push us to engage in respectability politics to achieve wealth. We are encouraged to break glass ceilings and prioritize assimilation to achieve capital and Black excellence. But what happens when that capital is prioritized over consciousness?

“Certain people decide, I’m not going to be revolutionary, I’m going to work that 9 to 5,” Clay explained. As a ninth-generation Morehouse student, his insightful critique of the institution was layered with passion and frustration. “I love it here, this is where I want to be. But the intense prioritization of money and revenue via external opportunities, corporate partnerships, and external grants takes away from the primary focus on educating Black men. If you’ve got a Bank of America auditorium, while people are graduating without knowing their history… what are you doing?”

He continued, posing questions that more students should be asking themselves:

 Morehouse pushes out businessmen. JPMorgan Chase? Cool. Make your money. But what’s adjacent to your profession and independent from your profession is your personal knowledge. Are you reading? As a businessman, do you understand what your money could mean for others? Do you understand the history of your money? If you’re working on Wall Street, do you know about Black Wall Street? Are you living in purposeful ignorance?

Clay’s words point to the danger of prioritizing wealth and professional success over consciousness and collective freedom. We must divest from corporate power and invest within.”We need to raise people to be more conscious and prepared for the outside world than they are for the inside job. That would impact public consciousness because that knowledge would be the priority.” 

Spelman junior Jayda Hendrickson shared a similar sentiment:

People try to convince themselves that they’re activists when, in reality, they just want to be comfortable. People do the work when it benefits them and then stop when they gain access to certain privileges and spaces. We’re too complacent. For many of us, our ultimate goal is to achieve the same privileges as a white person. So we remain tied to these harmful systems.

Jayda explained that while Spelman students often appear to advocate for justice, we may unconsciously be perpetuating white supremacist agendas rather than solving the root cause of systemic issues. “It feels like we're taking off the leaves rather than getting to the trunk of the tree. How is Spelman going against the status quo?”

Though Spelman as an institution promotes Black pride, service, and social justice, it has yet to unconditionally and entirely commit itself to transformative and radical change. This creates an environment where movements struggle to thrive.

In 2015, a coalition of AUC students formed #AUCShutItDown (AUCSID) to mobilize their classmates and hold their nation, institutions, and selves accountable. AUCSID fought against state violence, the erasure of Black history, economic inequities, gentrification, respectability politics, and exclusion. They centered all identities, genders, religions, sexual orientations, and socioeconomic classes.

That same year,  AUCSID disrupted a Hillary Clinton rally at Clark Atlanta University with chants of “Black Lives Matter,” protesting her history of oppressive carceral policies. The students were quickly escorted out of the building, and since then, their efforts have seemingly been erased from campus memory. 

Outside of my research for this article, I had never even heard of AUCSID. 

If Spelman, Morehouse, and Clark fail to uplift and support movements, how can we expect them to gain the visibility and resources needed to make a change?

Regardless of where our administrations stand, we must act nevertheless. “Spelman itself is not a radical institution,” Jayda said, “but you can find radical spaces here.” One of those spaces for radical change and discussion is the classroom. “The classroom sparks discussion. It lets us interact and sparks change. Spelman won’t facilitate that in the way we need because of funding and its reputation. It will never be a radical institution.”  

Jayda explains that we must look within ourselves to achieve radical change: 

It's idealistic to say everyone needs to read and be better citizens. But people need to be more willing to integrate their identities and their biases. If we can't get past that, we can't move forward to any kind of liberatory goal. Even as Black women, we must acknowledge our privileges and continue to fight for equality globally.

Reigniting the Flame 

In speaking with Professor McCarty about the direction we AUC students should take in light of Donald Trump’s tyrannical first 100 days, she emphasized hope and resistance. She shared a saying from the Black Panther Party, “When you heighten the contradictions, people respond.”

“I wouldn't bother to be here at Spelman if I didn’t think we had the resistance built into the institution, built into anybody who graces these grounds,” she said. 

 Despite a common belief that the youth of today are less politically engaged than our predecessors, McCarty reminded me that even during the civil rights movement, not everyone was involved. “It wasn't everybody joining the Black Panther Party. I remember I was one of the few students at the University of Illinois who joined.”

McCarty wants us to understand that we can not wait for a mass movement to act. Change starts small, and it starts with each and every one of us:  

There is no place to hide. No safe place that ur going to be immune from some of the terrible things that are being orchestrated by some of the leadership in this country right now. We've got to take it back. 

She encourages us to treat Spelman’s motto, “A Choice to Change the World,” as not a choice, but an obligation. “We brag about being the #1 HBCU. But wouldn't it be powerful if everyone who got accepted into Spelman knew they were coming to do community service, change work, revolutionary work? If they aren’t interested in that, then maybe they shouldn't come here.” 

Despite her suggestions, McCarty refuses to give up hope. “Every time I come to the classroom and hear the brilliance that comes from my students, I am assured that we will rise to the occasion. We can never lose hope. That's admitting defeat, and I don't believe in that.”

She reminded me that believing in yourself and your cause is crucial. “In the [Black Panther] Party,  people told us, ‘You're wasting your life, you're going to get killed, just go to school and get a good job.’ But we always knew we were making a difference.”

We must believe in the power of our voices, our dollars, and our intellect. Despite disillusionment, apathy, and pressure to assimilate, we can not give up. 

“You just have to light a spark. That spark will light a fire”. 

Today’s Spelman students are not hopeless or incapable—we are distracted, overwhelmed, brilliant, and deeply aware. However, our activism looks different. It is scattered across comment sections, expressed in poetry and critical essays, whispered in late-night dorm conversations, and sometimes lost beneath the pressure to excel in spaces never built for us. As we cope with the weight of history and the urgency of now, we must ask ourselves: What does solidarity look like in our time? What new tools, spaces, and tactics can we build, not to mimic the past, but to honor the work of our ancestors by forging our path forward? The legacy of youth-led activists like SNCC or the Atlanta Student Movement was shaped by their unity, their dedication, and their refusal to wait. That same fire lies within us all. It's time we take a stand and let it burn together.