I Am Proud to Teach My Son About ‘Good Trouble’

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One unexpectedly warm Sunday, I strolled through downtown, hand in hand with my curious 4-year-old son. His mind was buzzing with questions, and thankfully, I had the time and patience to indulge him that day.

“What’s that building? Can we go in? What’s your favorite dinosaur? How do streetlights work? Can we get ice cream?”

I cherished this rare moment with my first child. Since his sister joined us, our lives have become richer, overflowing with love, blessings, and, of course, the delightful chaos that accompanies another little one. These one-on-one moments with my son have become more precious, and on this day, I took the time to admire the new freckles dotting his nose and to appreciate how our conversations had evolved, even as he still squeezed my hand and tossed in spontaneous “I love yous.”

Then, I noticed it: a poster hastily taped to the window of a deserted storefront. The poster featured two stern-looking, blonde figures with icy blue eyes. The caption read “DEFEND YOUR PEOPLE,” accompanied by details about the white supremacist group behind it and how to join their cause.

In that moment, I realized that the phrase “your people” didn’t include me. Suddenly, I was part of the opposition against someone whose message painted me as the enemy. The same applied to the sweet boy whose hand I held; the poster’s message labeled us as the threat.

The harshness of that message was jarring on such a lovely day. Without a second thought, I ripped the poster down, leaving behind four sticky remnants of tape as I crumpled it into a ball and tossed it into a nearby trash can where it belonged—hopefully buried under greasy wrappers and soda spills.

“Why did you do that?!” my son asked, confused by my sudden act of rebellion.

“The poster wasn’t nice,” I replied, trying to steer the conversation back toward dinosaurs and sunshine, away from the heavy topic of hate.

“But you’re not supposed to do that!” he protested.

In that moment, I found it challenging to explain to him how breaking a rule could sometimes be the right thing to do. Fortunately, I remembered Civil Rights leader John Lewis, who often spoke about the idea of “good trouble.” He led a sit-in to demand a vote on gun control, urging others to embrace this notion of constructive defiance.

I used that concept to explain to my son the complexities of rules and morality. If a rule is unjust, breaking it isn’t just acceptable; it’s the right course of action. Sometimes, you must get into a little trouble for the greater good—just as John Lewis has a collection of mugshots alongside a legacy of civil rights victories.

Civil disobedience wasn’t a topic I planned to tackle during our afternoon stroll, and I worried it might confuse him. Yet, my son seemed to grasp that the poster belonged in the trash, not on display.

“But, Mom, what if they come back and put up another poster?” he asked, furrowing his tiny brows.

“I’ll take that one down,” I assured him.

“And if they do it again?” he pressed.

“I’ll take that down too.”

“And again?”

“Again, and again.”

In this way, I taught him that standing up against hate, even if it means getting into a little trouble, is a lesson worth learning.

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In summary, teaching my son about standing up to injustice and embracing “good trouble” has been a rewarding experience. It’s essential to instill in our children the courage to challenge unfairness and to understand that sometimes, breaking the rules is necessary for a greater cause.