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For anyone who has even a modicum of respect for the earth and the environment, the idea of dumping trash on the side of a highway is unconscionable. Who does such a thing? There's no excuse for littering like that, right?

That's what I would have thought before reading this Twitter thread by Glen Cantrell, but now...I don't know. While it pains me to think of polluting an area with trash, this might be the one exception where I'd be like, "Oh heck yeah. I can totally see why someone would do that."

Cantrell starts by explaining that his mother was not an activist, then goes on to describe a deliberately illegal act of defiance and subterfuge she invited him to join without his knowledge.

"My mother didn't have an activist bone in her body," Cantrel wrote. "Not one. But once, when I was visiting from school, she woke me up and told me to help her load up the truck with barn trash."

She didn't tell him where they were going.


"My family is from the Ozarks, mom lived in a little farm town outside Springfield. We hit 65 and drove south from there. Through Branson, past Table Rock, not slowing down until we hit the Arkansas border," he wrote.

"Mom pulls off right past the state line, in front of one of those Adopt-a-Highway signs," he continued. "'Look,' she points toward the sign. Her face is set. I'm a little scared. It's THAT face. All moms have it. You know the one. I read the sign. 'The next mile has been adopted by…'"

"'… The Grand Knights of the Ku Klux Klan (there was also some dumb ass sounding chapter name).' I get it now. Remember, the 'not an activist bone in her body' bit from the first tweet in this thread? There's a 'but.' And, it was the KKK."

Ah. There it is.

Cantrell explained that his mother's feelings about the KKK went beyond hatred. "It was more than that," he wrote, "scarier, even."

They emptied an entire truck load of garbage under the KKK's adopt-a-highway sign, then his mother ripped every bag open and kicked the trash around to mix it "with all the others who'd done the same."

Cantrell and his mom drove home in silence, feeling "lighter somehow." They never really talked about it again.

"Mom wasn't political or outspoken," Cantrell wrote. "But, that day, she inspired me."

Cantrell shared that the 8th anniversary of his mom's death was coming up, which may have prompted this memory (along with the response to Texas's recent legislation). What a fitting tribute it is to share her secret little slice of "good trouble" with the world.


On Aug. 16, 2017, author and activist Cleve Jones tweeted about a small community that figured out exactly how to handle its neo-Nazi problem.

"In a small town in Germany where the Nazi leader Rudolf Hess was born, every year right wing [activists] have been showing up to commemorate his birthday," the complementing copy to his viral tweet began.

(Clarification 8/21/2017: Hess wasn't born in the town — he was buried there.)


Neo-Nazi marchers carry a sign that reads, "Rudolf Hess — Unforgotten" in 2003. Photo by Sean Gallup/Getty Images.

Local counter-protesters, the tweet goes on to explain, failed to do much in stopping the bigotry that gathered in Wunsiedel every November. But back in 2014, the town came up with an interesting strategy to deal with the marchers: Instead of trying to stop neo-Nazis from coming to town, why not use their presence for good?

So Wunsiedel decided to turn its unwelcome neo-Nazi event into a walkathon, of sorts.

Except they didn't actually tell the neo-Nazis about their plan.

Neo-Nazis marching in Wunsiedel in 2003. Photo by Sean Gallup/Getty Images.

Under the guidance of advocacy group Rechts gegen Rechts (Right Against Right), businesses and locals came together to sponsor Germany's "most involuntary walkathon," The Guardian reported.

For every meter the neo-Nazis walked in their annual march, 10 Euros went to Exit Deutschland — a European organization that fights extremism. So, in essence, neo-Nazis showed up to march against their own cause.

That wasn't the end of it, though. Walkathon organizations epically trolled the neo-Nazis while they marched, too.

Wunsiedel locals placed encouraging signs along the march route — like this one, which reads, "If only the führer knew!"

Image via Rechts gegen Rechts/YouTube.

They marked the pavement with reminders of how much money the neo-Nazis were raising against their own cause.

Image via Rechts gegen Rechts/YouTube.

They even provided food to the marchers for all their hard work walking for a good cause.

Image via Rechts gegen Rechts/YouTube.

Of course, when all was said and done, they made sure to inform the neo-Nazis of all money raised to fight back against Nazism: 10,000 Euros ($12,000).

Image via Rechts gegen Rechts/YouTube.

"10,000 Euros for the neo-Nazi opt-out initiative Exit Deutschland," a narrator explains in a video by Rechts gegen Rechts from 2014. "10,000 Euros to help right-wing extremists safely defect from the right-wing extremist scene — personally collected by right-wing extremists."

Wunsiedel's walkathon was so successful, The Huffington Post noted, other German towns with neo-Nazi problems planned similar events.  

The story of Wunsiedel's epic walkathon isn't new. But it's telling that Jones' tweet recapping the march just went viral three years after.

On Aug. 12, 2017, an alleged white supremacist plowed through a crowd of counter-protesters in Charlottesville, Virginia, killing one woman and injuring 19 others. He was one of many who descended upon Charlottesville to rally in support of a soon-to-be removed Confederate monument.

In the aftermath, President Trump defended the white supremacists and seemingly placed equal blame on "alt-left" protesters. Even more troubling: Neo-Nazi groups are raising more money and planning more rallies across the U.S., McClatchy reported.

But as the story of Wunsiedel illustrates, modern-day bigotry is nothing new. A mass gathering of white supremacists chanting racist slurs, lit torches in hand, may be a haunting scene to see in America today, but it's worth remembering that far more of us are standing on the side of love than on the side of ignorance and hate. And if we defeated the Nazis in 1945, we can do it again today.

Watch footage from the 2014 walkathon in Wunsiedel below:

Just days after her daughter was murdered by a reported white supremacist, Susan Bro delivered a heartfelt public eulogy.

Heather Heyer died Saturday after being hit by a car allegedly driven by 20-year-old James Alex Fields Jr. in Charlottesville, Virginia. On Wednesday, Bro stood on stage at the Paramount Theater and delivered a speech she no doubt wishes she'd never have to give.

In just under seven minutes, Bro spoke poignant words of love and wisdom that we can all learn from.

"Find what's wrong, don't ignore it, don't look the other way," Bro said. "Say to yourself, 'What can I do to make a difference?' And that's how you're going to make my child's death worthwhile."


"I want this to spread. I don't want this to die. This is just the beginning of Heather's legacy," she continued.

[rebelmouse-image 19531587 dam="1" original_size="450x253" caption=""Although Heather was a caring, compassionate person, so are a lot of you. A lot of you go that extra mile." GIFs from ABC News/Twitter." expand=1]"Although Heather was a caring, compassionate person, so are a lot of you. A lot of you go that extra mile." GIFs from ABC News/Twitter.

"They tried to kill my child to shut her up — well, guess what — you just magnified her."

On Twitter, celebrities, activists, influencers, and member of the news media shared their favorite moments from Bro's eulogy.

Heather Heyer died far too soon, but she died doing something she believed in. The best way we can help preserve her legacy is to fight on.

Racism and hate should have no place in our society. Hayer stood up for what she believed in and fought for a better world for all.

Want to get involved? Check out this list of 16 things you can do right now to fight for equality and against hate.

This was the scene on Aug. 12 in Charlottesville, Virginia.

Photo by Chip Somodevilla/Getty Images.

Those are rescue workers aiding an injured, shaken woman who was plowed into by a car driven by an alleged white supremacist. In 2017. In America.

It's a difficult photo to see — as are many of the other photos taken over the weekend — but it's important we all see it and recognize this image for what it is.

The terrorist attack, allegedly carried out by a 20-year-old from Ohio who was in town supporting the "Unite the Right" white nationalist conference, left one victim, counter-protester Heather Heyer, dead. It injured 19 others.

It's easy to feel helpless in the days following an event like Charlottesville. If you're in a position of privilege, it's maybe even easier to intentionally tune out — to put on your headphones and ignore the bigger problems waiting outside your door. But it's important we act.






If you're feeling hopeless after the events in Charlottesville, here are 13 ways you can help make a difference:

1. First and foremost, make sure you are OK.

If you're a person of color or part of another targeted marginalized group, the events in Charlottesville may have been exhausting and painful to see on TV or witness firsthand. DoSomething.org has a coping with discrimination self-care guide that includes tips like mindfully disconnecting from our often chaotic world and finding ways to channel your anger into constructive actions.

2. Become a member of the NAACP.

The NAACP is working tirelessly across the U.S. to counter the hateful forces like the ones on display last weekend. Join forces with the national group or find a local chapter — like the one in Charlottesville — to get involved.

3. Follow Sesame Street's lead and go out of your way to do something nice (big or small) for someone each day this week.

Give an extra big tip to your barista, call an old friend to say hello, hug your mom a little bit tighter; a simple gesture goes a long way.

4. Donate to the victims of the Charlottesville terror attack.

Beyond Heyer's tragic death, the violence on Saturday left 19 others injured. Community group Unity C-ville has set up a GoFundMe page to help with their medical costs.

5. If you're not a person of color, take 10 minutes to learn about allyship.

A 10-minute cram session certainly doesn't mean you'll become the perfect ally overnight. But listening to members of an oppressed group — or learning from resources created by someone or people of that group — will give you a good start in understanding the do's and don'ts in allyship.

6. Speaking of being an ally — signing up for a Safety Pin Box subscription is a great first step.

The service, run by black female activists, informs users about the various systems of privilege and oppression that disempower certain groups, while also giving specific tasks on how subscribers can challenge the status quo as allies in the real world.

7. Find out how your own representatives reacted to Charlottesville.

Then make some phone calls.

If they condemned white supremacy and are actively fighting for policies that promote racial justice — from criminal justice reform to affirmative action — let them know you proudly support their agenda. If your representatives didn't speak out, remind them that their silence speaks volumes.

8. Help the country Swing Left in 2018.

Racism certainly isn't confined to one party, but the GOP — led by a president who has been disturbingly connected to the KKK and other hate groups — is emboldening bigotry in ways we haven't seen in recent American history.

Progressive group Swing Left is focused on flipping the House in 2018 by zeroing in on swing districts where the GOP is vulnerable. Even if you don't live in such a district, you likely live near one that could use your help.

9. Find a protest in your own community with the Indivisible Guide.

Progressive group Indivisible is mobilizing supporters to take part in local protests in response to the white nationalist gathering in Virginia. Learn more.

10. Report harassment online, or call on the allies at White Nonsense Roundup to step in.

Social media has become a breeding ground for racist and misogynistic attitudes. If you see others being harassed — or you're being targeted yourself — don't be afraid to report it. (Here's how you can do it on Twitter and on Facebook).

Alternately, if you're part of a marginalized group and feel targeted by others online — or even just find yourself batting away well-intentioned but problematic rhetoric — you can call on White Nonsense Roundup. If you tag the volunteer-run group, they'll jump into the comment thread to defend you and educate other commenters. Because, as the group notes, people of color already have enough on their plates — they shouldn't have to worry about educating the world, too.

11. Tune in to TV shows that tackle important issues of racial and social justice on screen.

The Trump era has given new meaning to series that routinely parse social justice issues via comedy or drama. Shows like "Black-ish," "Dear White People," and "Fresh Off the Boat" aren't just good TV — they're making a positive impact, with people of color working behind the scenes and in front of the cameras to tell their stories. Support these types of series and see what the world looks like in someone else's shoes.

[rebelmouse-image 19530820 dam="1" original_size="750x498" caption="The cast of ABC's "Black-ish." Photo by Alberto E. Rodriguez/Getty Images for NAACP Image Awards." expand=1]The cast of ABC's "Black-ish." Photo by Alberto E. Rodriguez/Getty Images for NAACP Image Awards.

12. Use VolunteerMatch.org to commit to volunteering once a month with a group doing social justice work in your area.

You could be an ESL tutor to immigrants in Chicago, for example, or volunteer with the Boys & Girls Club in Naples, Florida. There are plenty of online tools like VolunteerMatch.org that can pair you with reputable nonprofits in your own backyard.

13. Systemic racism is one thing. But what should you do when bigoted harassment or violence is unfolding right in front of you?

This helpful guide by the Southern Poverty Law Center, "Ten Ways to Fight Hate," details how each one of us can respond in concrete ways when we witness bigotry in our neighborhoods.

"Slurs often escalate to harassment, harassment to threats, and threats to physical violence," the guide reads. "Don’t wait to fight hate."

14. Sign up for Common Cause's Sessions Watch to keep an eye on Attorney General Jeff Sessions.

Jeff Sessions was too racist to become a federal judge in 1986. Yet, thanks to Trump, he's our attorney general, heading the Justice Department.  

Photo by Alex Wong/Getty Images.

Sessions' racist (and homophobic, misogynistic, and anti-Muslim) history is alarming for many marginalized groups. To help keep him accountable, sign up for Common Cause's Sessions Watch, where you'll get up-to-date notifications regarding his actions as attorney general, as well as ways you can stand up to his agenda.

15. Boost the Black Lives Matter movement on social media.

There's a good chance a Black Lives Matter local chapter is active in your neck of the woods. Find out how you — as a person of color or an ally — can help the movement grow. Aside from donating or attending events, you can Like, comment, and share the messages BLM publishes on Facebook and Twitter.

16. Help Charlottesville rally past this dark period by supporting one of its incredible local nonprofits.

Author and Twitter personality Sara Benincasa shared a thread on Twitter (and then wrote an article in the same vein) listing a number of Charlottesville organizations making their corner of the world a better place.

Like the local Planned Parenthood.

Or the neighborhood Meals on Wheels.

If we've learned anything from U.S. history, it's that white supremacy can't be stomped out overnight.

It will take years of painful, exhausting work to break down the systems that keep black and brown people disadvantaged at best and, at worst, intentionally oppressed.

We have our work cut out for us. But if America truly is better than what happened in Charlottesville, now's our opportunity to prove it.