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🏛️ Journal Prompt: Rebuild It Your Way
Currently, the streets across America are filled with uprisings and protests—shouts echoing against the broken systems and foundations that were supposed to serve the people. But what if you could rebuild a piece of it? Not to make an empire. Just something that won’t collapse under the weight of pretending.
Reflect on this:
What part of these broken systems was handed to you, rather than chosen?
(Was it how you were educated? Policed? Judged? Cared for? Ignored?)If you rebuilt it your way, what would stay—and why?
(What values do you want to carry forward, even in the ashes?)What does safety, strength, or leadership look like in your hands—not theirs?
(Describe how it feels, what it protects, who it includes.)
Let this be an invitation to imagine with clarity, not perfection. You’re not responsible for the whole system. Just the piece that touched your life. Build it like you mean it.
✍️ Miss Cora Knight – Detroit, Michigan (73, Retired Teacher)
1. The system of silence. That’s what was handed to me. I was taught to keep my head down, pray, and never speak too loud in the presence of white folks or men with power.
2. What would stay? Dignity. The kind you carry in your back straight and your voice steady. Even if the world don’t honor it, you can.
3. Safety, to me, is a front porch where no one gets dragged off. Strength is the whisper of elders being listened to. Leadership is a table where everyone gets fed and asked how they’re really doing—not just praised when they suffer quietly.
✍️ Ava Bellamy – Atlanta, Georgia (17, High School Student, Youth Organizer)
1. The pressure to behave, to appease, to “make change from the inside.” That was never my choice—that was survival wrapped in respectability.
2. What stays is accountability. Not just for cops or politicians—but for each of us. For how we show up, protect, and call each other in.
3. Leadership in my hands is a megaphone passed around. It’s protest signs made from cereal boxes. It’s checking in with your friend who’s gone quiet. I don’t want to be the face of change. I want to be part of a body that moves like it means it.
✍️ Terrance Johnson – New Orleans, Louisiana (35, Chef, Formerly Incarcerated)
1. I inherited a record before I had a résumé. That’s how it works when your name’s already flagged and your zip code is a strike.
2. I’d keep discipline—but not the kind they used on me. The kind that comes from purpose, from keeping your word, from serving something bigger than yourself.
3. Safety in my hands is a kitchen where everyone gets a second plate and a second chance. Strength is not raising your voice to be heard, but raising someone else’s. Leadership is knowing when to step back and let somebody else cook.
✍️ Mona Riggs – Logan, West Virginia (59, Consignment Shop Owner)
1. I was handed the belief that my worth came from how little I asked for. That women like me—quiet, small-town, working-class—should be content with what we got, even if it wasn’t fair. I didn’t choose that. I just learned how to survive inside it.
2. If I rebuilt the system, I’d keep the part where neighbors know your name and bring soup when someone’s sick. I’d keep the part where you fix things—not throw them away. But I’d add a place for softness, too. A place where you can say, “This hurt me,” and someone actually listens.
3. Safety, to me, is knowing no one will laugh at your pain. Strength is kindness without an expiration date. Leadership is the quiet hand on your back when the world says, “Hurry up,” and someone whispers, “Take your time, honey. You’re allowed to heal.”
✍️ Diego Márquez – Phoenix, Arizona (16, High School Student, Artist)
1. I didn’t get to choose being labeled before I opened my mouth. “Troublemaker.” “At-risk.” “The kid with no dad.” That was handed to me. So was the guilt—like I owed something just for being born here when my sister didn’t get papers.
2. If I rebuilt the system, I’d leave in the part where people fight for each other—but I’d rip out the part where we have to break ourselves to earn a place. I’d keep art in the schools, keep teachers who care. I’d let kids mess up without it following them forever.
3. Strength in my hands is a pencil, not a weapon. Safety is a bedroom with a lock that works and a light that stays on. Leadership? It’s showing up when no one thinks you will—and helping someone else feel seen, even if you’re still figuring yourself out.
✍️ Meredeth Alton – Denver, Colorado (41, Stay-at-Home Mom, Graphic Designer)
1. I was handed the story that a “good life” means a husband, a house, polite kids, and thank-you notes on time. That if you have all that, you shouldn’t ask for more—not space, not dreams, not a return to your old self. That version of womanhood was never mine to shape.
2. If I rebuilt the system, I’d keep the care—but not the guilt. I’d keep the routines, the lunchboxes, the bedtime kisses—but I’d build in room for mothers to breathe, to make art again, to not disappear. I’d give stay-at-home moms real respect, not soft pity.
3. Safety, to me, is the sound of laughter upstairs. Strength is answering “What do you do?” without flinching. Leadership is modeling a life where love doesn’t mean silence—and where our daughters and sons both see that.
🪞 Your Turn: What Would You Rebuild?
You don’t need a protest sign to question the system.
You don’t need a platform to imagine a better way.
Just pause. Breathe. And ask yourself:
What part of the world around you was handed down, not chosen?
If you could start fresh, what would you carry forward—and what would you leave behind?
What does real safety, true strength, or honest leadership look like in your hands?
You don’t have to write it down (but you can).
You don’t have to say it out loud (but you could).
Because the more you think about these things, the more you understand:
You are not alone.
We’re all trying to build something that won’t collapse under the weight of pretending.
