Five years ago, the world watched as George Floyd slowly died under the knee of Minneapolis police officer Derek Chauvin. Brother Floyd was not the first Black man killed by an overzealous police officer, nor even the first caught on video. But the combination of his constant refrain of “I can’t breathe” and the expression of utter disregard for human life demonstrated on Officer Chauvin’s face etched this moment into the consciousness of our nation.
Floyd’s murder ignited nationwide protests, the largest since the civil rights movement. In communities large and small, people marched in fury and in grief, demanding justice not only for George Floyd but for every life cut short by police violence. They called for something deeper: an end to the systemic racism that has brutalized Black communities for centuries.
For a while, it felt like real change was possible. Cities debated reducing bloated police budgets and investing in addressing the root causes of violence in our communities. Corporations made commitments to racial equity. Politicians, even some who had long ignored calls for reform, found their voices and joined the chorus calling for change.
Unfortunately, as in every era when victories against racism have been won, the backlash against reforms came swiftly. We are seeing that now. But our fight for justice must continue.
Over the past five years, we have witnessed an aggressive effort to claw back not just the gains from 2020 but decades of progress on racial equity. Politicians and media figures turned “wokeness” into a slur. In 2022, Florida Gov. Ron DeSantis signed into law the “Stop W.O.K.E. Act,” restricting schools and workplaces from providing education about systemic racism, and thousands of books about race and marginalized people were banned.
Corporations eager to support equity initiatives in the aftermath of Floyd’s murder appeared relieved to be freed of the responsibility for Diversity, Equity, Inclusion and Accessibility by the edicts of Project 2025 and the current administration’s flood of executive orders. In abandoning these responsibilities, they also abandoned people as they rushed to curry favor with politicians.
This backlash of hate and bigotry, the abandonment of principles of equity and fairness, the flaming of fear, and the theology of scarcity cannot stand. Every step toward reform is met with retrenchment, a doubling down on the very racist and unfair systems we seek to dismantle. After Reconstruction came Jim Crow. After the civil rights movement came mass incarceration. And, after Barack Obama and Black Lives Matter came Project 2025.
Despite this reactionary tide, we must remember the many victories we have won, and understand deep in our being that there is no victory without a fight.
Illinois, where I live, was one of the few states to take real, tangible action in the wake of the 2020 uprisings. While much of the country settled for symbolic gestures, the Illinois legislative Black caucus championed and secured the passage of several omnibus bills aimed at addressing systemic racism throughout our state. Among them was one of the most ambitious packages of criminal justice reforms in recent memory.
Illinois became the first state in the nation to eliminate the use of money bond, ending a system where freedom was bought and sold, which disproportionately harmed Black and minority communities. Guardians of the status quo prophesied chaos and destruction, and stoked the flames of fear and division; yet, a year later, crime rates are dropping, and individuals accused of crimes are appearing in court as required. Results prove that centering safety and justice works.
Ending the outdated and absurd practice of forcing people to purchase their freedom while awaiting trial was a direct response to calls for systemic change. It demonstrated what is possible when we collectively raise good trouble. It serves as proof of democracy in action, showing that public outcry can lead to concrete policy shifts and that marches can result in tangible legislative changes.
Good trouble, or Holy mischief, is not just a civic ethic but a spiritual principle central to the ministry of Jesus. Pretrial fairness demands that those who claim a faith tradition consider: do we believe in compassion, redemption, restoration and equity, or is our faith nothing more than a hollow trinket used for personal status and psychological comfort?
But Illinois was an exception, not the rule. Across the country, police budgets have ballooned, and reform measures have been walked back. Still, that revolutionary summer of 2020 mattered. It demonstrated the strength of collective action, even in the midst of a global pandemic. It reminded us that millions of people from diverse races, classes and ethnicities were willing to leave their homes and publicly declare that this is not the country we want to live in. These are not our values. We can do better.
The backlash has been loud, but we can be louder. We must remember that half of the country didn’t vote for the current administration and that most Democrats, along with a quarter of Republicans, believe we could do more to advance racial equality. And we can. We must keep pushing the needle forward, just as generations before us did. The fight for racial justice will take time. It may feel hopeless at times. But that hopelessness becomes real only if we silently comply.
With our nation once again at a historic crossroads, it is essential for us to recommit to uprooting racism and resisting forces that seek to dismantle our democracy. The future of our country depends on it.
Rev. Dr. Otis Moss III is the senior pastor of Trinity United Church of Christ in Chicago.