RBG Wasn’t Talking About Your Tote Bag

(A reflection on dissent)

“Dissents speak to a future age. It’s not simply to say, ‘my colleagues are wrong and I would do it this way.’ But the greatest dissents do become court opinions and gradually become the dominant view. So that’s the dissenter’s hope: that they are writing not for today, but for tomorrow.”

-Ruth Bader Ginsburg

If I see one more “I Dissent” tote bag, I think I might scream.
Not because I don’t admire Ruth Bader Ginsburg — I do, deeply.
But because somewhere along the way, we took a line she meant as a legacy,
and turned it into merchandise.

And I can’t help but feel the irony of it all.
Because dissent — real dissent — is not supposed to be easy to wear.

It’s not a statement you make to be seen.
It’s not a badge to signal you’re on the “right side.”
It’s not clever. Or cute.
It’s costly.

RBG said:

“Dissents speak to a future age.”

She didn’t mean rebellion for the sake of it.
She meant truth — spoken before it’s welcome.
Before it’s understood.
Before it’s safe.

The kind of truth you say anyway.
Because not saying it would be a betrayal of something deeper.
Of yourself.

That kind of dissent doesn’t sell well.
It doesn’t trend.
It won’t make you popular at dinner.
And it definitely doesn’t fit on a tote bag.

We live in a world obsessed with binary thinking.
Right or wrong.
For or against.
Good or bad.

And in all that noise, nuance dies.

We forget that dissent isn’t just about being loud.
It’s about being clear.
And to be clear, you have to go deeper.

You have to ask the hard questions.
The uncomfortable ones.
The ones that make you wonder if you're actually as certain as you thought.
You have to make room for contradiction.
You have to earn your position.

Not from your peers.
Not from your politics.
But from yourself.

That’s what this is about.

Not dissent for show.
Not outrage on autopilot.
But standing in a truth that’s been tested — slowly, deliberately, and with care.

It doesn’t matter where you land.
It matters how honestly you got there.
That you didn’t just inherit your stance.
That you didn’t mimic someone else’s voice
because it was louder, or liked.

That you asked — and kept asking — until what was left
wasn’t performance,
but conviction.

I don’t write this as someone who always gets it right.
I write it as someone who has tried to skip the work —
and paid for it.

Who has been loud when I should have been listening.
Who has stayed quiet when I should have stood.
Who knows what it means to move too fast toward clarity
just to feel safe.

I’ve learned that real dissent isn’t a lightning bolt.
It’s a slow burn.
A choice.
And then another one.
And then another.

So no, I don’t want your tote bag.

I want to know what you believe when no one’s watching.
What you’re willing to risk for it.
What you’ve questioned — and what you’ve let go.

Because the future doesn’t need more slogans.
It needs more people
who’ve done the work to know where they stand —
and why.