Say Something Real
By Michelle Bryant
Michelle Bryant
As America approaches its 250th birthday, the decisions being made about how we commemorate our shared history speak volumes about what—and who—we value. The decision by Donald Trump and his administration to exclude Ruby Bridges and other figures from the civil rights movement from consideration for a commemorative coin is not merely a bureaucratic adjustment; it is a telling act of erasure that reshapes the narrative of who counts in the American story.
Donald Trump has always been a man obsessed with branding. Whether emblazoning his name on skyscrapers, golf courses, and fast-tracked visas, he has made clear that, in his world, value is measured in gold letters and personal legacy. Now, as he seeks to leave his mark on the nation’s 250th birthday, his efforts to recast national symbols, such as the renaming of the Kennedy Center, show a disturbing willingness to overwrite not just buildings and history, but the very memory of those who came before. The Kennedy Center, named for a president whose life was cut short in service to the country, stands as a memorial to vision, sacrifice, and national unity, in addition to a celebration of the arts. For Trump to rename and insert his name ahead of John F. Kennedy, with his own, is not just disrespectful, it’s a rewriting of memory, a diminishing of collective achievement in favor of personal aggrandizement, and frankly, just disgusting.
Contrast this with the story of Ruby Bridges, a six-year-old Black child who faced a gauntlet of hate and attempted violence simply to attend first grade in New Orleans in 1960. While Donald Trump has lived a life of privilege, yeah, I said PRIVILEGED, shielded by wealth, influence, and the benefit of a society structured in his favor, Ruby Bridges needed federal marshals to protect her from adults who spat at her and screamed slurs as she bravely walked into an all-white school. Her courage, and that of countless others in the civil rights movement, forced America to confront the gap between its ideals and its reality.
To deny their place on something as symbolic as a commemorative coin, or currency (still waiting on that Harriet Tubman $20 bill that Trump shelved), is to deny the truth of America’s progress and struggle.
It is to pretend that history is only comfortable, only triumphant, never difficult or shameful. But America’s greatness has always come from the work of facing our flaws, not hiding from them.
Trump’s privilege has not only insulated him from the struggles others face but has also allowed him, and many with whom he has surrounded himself, to shape the nation’s symbols in their own image. The willingness of the nation to allow this reflects an uncomfortable truth: the same privilege that allowed slavery and protected Trump but not Bridges continues to determine whose stories are told, whose sacrifices are honored, and whose dreams are celebrated.
As we mark 250 years, we must remember that America was founded in part on the concept of natural rights, independence, and that the government’s authority is derived from those who are governed. The idea of America, the aspiration to liberty and equality, has never been fully realized. We are imperfect and incomplete, but we’ve strove to move forward. To honor only the easy parts of the nation’s history, or only the privileged few, is to betray that very idea. Our greatest progress has come when we valued the individual courage of people like Ruby Bridges, even when our laws and customs did not.
Let us build a future where our symbols reflect the real fabric of this nation: diverse, courageous, and honest.