Power is not only held by elected officials, and protest does not have to be borne by the most vulnerable.

If we are going to break through this numbness and national indifference, we need to stop treating politicians as the only site of accountability. Power also lives with people and institutions that have visibility, resources, and insulation from retaliation. Those who can afford to take risks should be the ones taking them.

That could mean asking highly visible cultural figures to consider collective refusal. If the Seahawks advance to the Super Bowl, what would it look like to ask them to use that moment to make absence speak? What would it mean for a national spectacle to pause in protest of state-sanctioned violence?

It could also mean calling on community leaders, city governments, unions, faith organizations, and major employers to create conditions that protect collective action. Not by asking individuals to sacrifice alone, but by shifting risk upward and outward through coordinated solidarity, public commitments, and economic pressure that is lawful and intentional.

While we imagine and demand those bold, visible gestures, the practical work must continue. Trainings, outreach, and local organizing remain essential. Change requires both the quiet, sustained labor and moments that force the country to look.