Radical Rants

 At the Mercy of Power: How We Forgot Our Rights

In the United States, we like to talk about freedom. It’s stitched into our founding documents, etched into our monuments, and repeated like a mantra in our political rhetoric. And yet, in practice, we live not in freedom, but at the mercy of power.

When the government provides social programs, we call it generous. When taxes are fair, we say it’s because we’re lucky. When laws are humane, when healthcare is accessible, when justice is evenhanded — we are grateful. As if these things are gifts.

But they are not gifts. They are rights — or should be.

The deeper truth is this: we have stopped thinking of equity, liberty, and security as something that is ours by right. Instead, we wait for those in power to bestow them upon us. We hope that politicians will be kind. That the system will work in our favor. That courts will be fair, that police will be restrained, that corporations will be ethical, that agencies will look out for our health, our food, our air, our labor.

But none of them are obligated to. Because we haven’t made them be.

We have allowed ourselves to become supplicants in a system that was meant to serve us. We cross our fingers during every election. We beg for debt relief, for living wages, for fair housing. And when we get scraps, we are told to be thankful — as if justice were charity.

This is not how a democracy should function.

Rights are not conditional. They are not awarded based on the mood of the ruling party. They are not earned through good behavior or revoked by executive whim. They are inherent. But only if we act like they are.

The original promise of this country — however imperfectly imagined and deeply compromised from the start — was that power would rest with the people. That government would exist to secure the rights of the governed, not to distribute favors. But over time, we’ve flipped the script. We treat the government not as our instrument, but as our master. And like all masters, it decides what we get and when we get it.

This culture of dependency — not on each other, but on authority — is the slow death of democracy. It numbs our sense of agency. It hollows out our expectations. And it trains us to be grateful for things we should demand.

Universal healthcare? Thank you, if you’re willing. Clean water? Please, if it’s not too much trouble. A livable planet? Maybe, if industry agrees. These are not the voices of citizens. These are the voices of the ruled.

We have to unlearn this.

We have to remember that our rights do not come from Congress, or the White House, or any political party. They do not flow from the goodwill of those in charge. They arise from our inherent dignity — and they are protected only when we organize to defend them.

This means we must stop waiting. We must stop hoping that power will treat us kindly. We must build power of our own — rooted in communities, fueled by solidarity, sustained by direct action. We must act not as passive recipients, but as co-creators of the world we want to live in.

The movements that have reshaped this country — abolition, suffrage, labor, civil rights, disability justice, climate justice — were not polite requests. They were not grateful for slow crumbs of reform. They were fierce, strategic, and relentless in insisting that rights must be recognized, not gifted.

We are not subjects. We are not clients. We are not the lucky beneficiaries of benevolent governance.

We are the people. And if we want equity, liberty, and security, we must stop asking for mercy — and start acting with purpose.

That purpose begins with community constructivism — the practice of building the world we need from the ground up. It means creating local food systems, community health care, housing cooperatives, mutual aid networks, and democratic schools — not as charity, but as expressions of sovereignty. Community constructivism reclaims our power not by waiting for justice to trickle down, but by planting it in our neighborhoods and growing it together. It’s not enough to resist injustice. We must replace it with systems of care, autonomy, and dignity — and we must build those systems ourselves, alongside our neighbors, right now. That is how we stop living at the mercy of power. That is how we live in freedom.