BridgeUSA is an investment in the future of American democracy. We champion ideological diversity, promote a solution-oriented political culture, and teach responsible discourse in order to develop a generation of political leaders that value empathy and constructive engagement. Our organization works with America's future leaders on college campuses to foster spaces wherein a diverse range of ideas can engage one another through the practice of responsible discourse.
Site Navigation
Search
Latest Stories
Join a growing community committed to civic renewal.
Subscribe to The Fulcrum and be part of the conversation.
Top Stories
Latest news
Read More

Minnesota Lt. Gov. Peggy Flanagan, speaks at a volunteer appreciation event at Black Heart of Saint Paul on August 8, 2026 in St. Paul, Minnesota.
Stephen Maturen/Getty Images
Peggy Flanagan Could Make History for Native American Women in November. She’s Not the Only One.
Aug 19, 2026
Lt. Gov. Peggy Flanagan easily won Minnesota’s Democratic primary for a U.S. Senate seat, according to Decision Desk HQ, putting her a step closer to becoming the first Native American woman elected to the chamber.
Flanagan, a member of the White Earth Band of Ojibwe, is not the only Native woman who could make history this year: In New Mexico, former Secretary of the Interior Deb Haaland, a Laguna Pueblo member, is widely expected to become New Mexico’s next governor after winning the Democratic nomination in June.
And in Alaska, a hyper-competitive race for an open U.S. Senate seat could return former Rep. Mary Peltola, the first Alaska Native elected to Congress, back to Washington.
Their victories would mark a significant stride toward better representation for Native American women in American politics, making them more visible in the halls of power and giving voice and lived experience to issues that significantly impact this population, from unequal pay to the epidemic of violence facing Native American women.
Mary Peltola poses for a portrait in her office on February 9, 2023, in Washington, D.C. (Tom Williams/CQ-Roll Call/Getty Images)“Our democracy functions best when it accurately reflects the people it seeks to represent, and so having a Native American woman serving in the United States Senate is good for our democracy,” Flanagan said in an interview with The 19th. “Being an Ojibwe woman is not a hat that I put on and take off. I’m a Native woman every day. I know that you know when I get to Washington, I’m not going by myself. That I am bringing Indian country with me.”
In Tuesday’s primary in Minnesota, Flanagan defeated Rep. Angie Craig, a moderate lawmaker who represents a suburban district south of Minneapolis, by promising to deliver “bold” change with the backing of top progressive leaders. Flanagan heavily criticized Craig over her past support of a Trump-backed immigration enforcement law to win in a state rattled by the administration’s violent immigration enforcement campaign last winter.
Native American women are about 1.5 percent of the U.S. population but have been historically underrepresented as elected officials. To reach equitable representation in Congress, voters would need to elect at least seven Native American women to Congress; right now, there is only one: Rep. Sharice Davids of Kansas, a member of the Ho-Chunk Nation.
Haaland and Davids became the first Native American women to ever serve in Congress when they were sworn into office in 2019. In 2020, Rep. Yvette Herrell was elected to represent New Mexico’s 2nd Congressional District, becoming the first Republican Native American woman in Congress. Herrell, who is a member of the Cherokee Nation, lost her seat to Democrat Rep. Gabe Vasquez in 2022. Peltola joined Congress following a special election in 2022; she lost a reelection bid in 2024.
After her inauguration, Haaland said she was “very grateful” to not be the only Native American woman in Congress. The partnership she developed with Davids, Haaland said, became important as they worked to combat the epidemic of violence against Native Americans, particularly women, who face murder rates at 10 times the national average.
“When I first was elected to Congress, nobody was talking about it on a national level, and it was me and Sharice Davids who really worked hard to bring it to the attention of our colleagues in the House,” said Haaland, who held the first House hearing on murdered and missing Indigenous women while in Congress and, during the reauthorization of the Violence Against Women Act, advocated for victim services funding for Native American women in state courts. Later, as interior secretary, she created a specialized unit focused on the issue within the Bureau of Indian Affairs.
“It’s going to be steady work by caring people who really want to ensure that we’re making progress on this issue,” Haaland said.
Flanagan said that she is committed to carrying on this work and that she will bring her experience in Minnesota to the table. In Minnesota, Flanagan pushed for the creation of the nation’s first state-level office focused on the issue. Since its creation in 2021, the office has become a key liaison for families navigating the complicated law enforcement system, pushing for clear data to make sure victims aren’t invisible and forging new training standards for Minnesota police officers.
The office itself was the product of Native women “in decision-making roles and roles of authority,” Flanagan said. She worked with four other Native American women serving in the state’s legislature at the time to push for attention to the issue.
Flanagan said she is also deeply concerned by funding cuts and layoffs that the Trump administration has made to programs that benefit Native American tribes. The Trump administration fired a significant number of federal workers at the Bureau of Indian Education, which operates or funds more than 175 K-12 schools and two higher education institutions. The administration terminated the leases for a dozen Indian Health Services (IHS) offices, and sought to lay off almost 1,000 IHS workers, reversing that last decision only after an outcry. Staff for the Interior Department’s Bureau of Indian Affairs is down by 11 percent, which a government watchdog said has created critical vacancies in an already strained agency tasked with overseeing programs that support law enforcement, schools and the management of natural resources. Many of the services that the federal government funds or provides to tribe members are the obligations of centuries-old treaties.
“The bare minimum that we should expect — like the floor — should be that the federal government honors treaty rights, tribal sovereignty and upholds trust responsibilities,” Flanagan said. “We’ve never done that as a federal government before, but perhaps it will help having the voice of a Native woman serving in the United States Senate to be able to do that work.”
Flanagan will face former NFL broadcaster Michele Tafoya in the general election this November, according to projections. Tafoya, who had the backing of the National Republican Senatorial Committee, is seen as a strong recruit from Republicans with relatively moderate views on abortion bans and gun control laws.
Haaland’s nomination for New Mexico governor is in itself historic: The first Native American woman to be nominated for governor by a major party was Democrat Paulette Jordan, who ran to lead Idaho in 2020 — just six years ago.
Haaland emphasized that her history-making potential is not central to her run for office, and yet, an important step for representation of Native Americans in government.
“It’s not why I’m running, but it’s who I am,” Haaland said. “When we’ve had the Trump White House denouncing diversity, equity, and inclusion, it’s a reminder to people that representation truly does matter and that there are other voices out there. It’s not business as usual in this election.”
Democratic gubernatorial candidate Deb Haaland hugs and greets supporters following her speech during a primary election night watch party after winning the Democratic nomination, on June 2, 2026, in Albuquerque, New Mexico. (JON AUSTRIA/AP)
Both Haaland and Flanagan, representation of their Native American roots has been immediately visible. Haaland is known for wearing jewelry designed by Native American artists from across the country; Flanagan for wearing clothing designed by Native American designers, inspired by Native American traditions. If she’s elected to Congress, Flanagan said, people can expect more of that.
“It’s so funny, sometimes people — I like to say, dudes online —are like, that’s not what a lieutenant governor is supposed to dress like. And I’m like, well, I am the lieutenant governor, and this is how I dress,” she said. “I want my daughter, and I want other young Native people to see that you can be your full Indigenous self in every place and space.”
For Flanagan, the value of representation comes across on the campaign trail, and in her daughter’s own outlook as a future leader.
“When I hear Siobhan call Deb Haaland Auntie Deb, or when I’m on the campaign trail and young Native women and girls are calling me Auntie Peggy, it is one of the most powerful things that has happened on the campaign trail.”
Peggy Flanagan Could Make History for Native American Women in November. She’s Not the Only One. was originally published by The 19th and is republished with permission.
Keep ReadingShow less
Recommended

person in orange long sleeve shirt writing on white paper
Photo by Romain Dancre on Unsplash
How Lawyers Protect America’s Democracy and Rule of Law
Aug 18, 2026
For centuries, lawyers have been leaders in establishing and protecting our democracy and its cornerstone, the rule of law. They have challenged tyrants, whether it be King George III in our nation’s founding or President Trump, a wannabe king, today.
Lawyers swear to do this in an oath, which is a condition of admission to the bar, to “support the Constitution of the United States.” This sworn duty continues a centuries-old tradition.
Twenty-five lawyers signed the Declaration of Independence (of fifty-six signatories). The chief author, Thomas Jefferson, was a lawyer. Signing took considerable courage. That act was treason under English law, punishable by death or imprisonment, and it put the signatories’ lives, families, and estates at great risk.
The Declaration was an indictment of “tyrant” King George III, listing twenty-seven specific grievances. It is best known for recognizing the people’s fundamental rights (to “Life, Liberty and the Pursuit of Happiness”); declaring the independence “of the thirteen united States of America;” and especially for its statement that governments “deriv[e] their just powers from the consent of the governed.” This concept of popular sovereignty is the foundation of our democracy.
Lawyers and those with legal training also helped draft and secure the adoption of the U.S. Constitution (twenty-three of the thirty-nine signatories in 1787 were lawyers or legally trained), the Bill of Rights (the first ten amendments to the Constitution), and later Constitutional amendments. For centuries, lawyers have invoked the structural provisions of the Constitution (especially those creating checks and balances) and the amendments to protect the lives, liberty, and property of American citizens and residents from arbitrary and vindictive governmental actions.
Throughout our history, lawyers have also challenged “popular tyranny” and angry mobs, even when representing those hated by the community has imperiled their practices, families, and community standing. One historic example was the defense by future president John Adams, at age thirty-four, of eight British soldiers and their officer in what is known as the 1770 Boston Massacre, in which five colonists were shot and killed.
Adams was a strong patriot and staunch critic of the Crown, but he accepted this representation, knowing that public hatred of the soldiers would extend to his defense of them. Based on Adams’ defense of self-defense (from the angry rock-and ice-throwing crowd), the jury acquitted the officer and six soldiers and convicted two others of manslaughter (with, as punishment, an “M” branded on their thumbs).
Adams said later that this was “one of the best Pieces of Service I ever rendered my Country." He was celebrating his role, the lawyer’s role, in assuring that the rule of law was applied under the most trying circumstances in our embryonic nation.
We need to call on these traditions today. Our president and his executive branch are attacking our democracy and the rule of law in ways that have no parallels in our history. In a very incomplete list of unconstitutional actions, they have appropriated powers constitutionally committed to Congress; sought to federalize elections, although the Constitution unambiguously commits the control of elections to state and federal legislatures; and punished law firms, individuals, and many organizations for actions protected by an array of constitutional provisions.
The worst, however, for many has been the seizure of the Department of Justice. The president has converted this once quasi-independent and well-respected defender of the rule of law into his personal law firm and committed its leadership to his angry and legally meritless campaign of revenge.
What can lawyers do today to fight back and honor our long tradition? They can join Lawyers Defending American Democracy. LDAD offers a menu of activities that draw on the distinct skills of lawyers across the full range of practice areas.
As a lawyer, you can educate your community on legal ethics and further the public's understanding of and confidence in the rule of law. This educational function is critically important today. Justice Brandeis, dissenting in Olmstead v. United States, said:
Our Government is the potent, the omnipresent teacher. For good or for ill, it teaches the whole people by its example. Crime is contagious. If the Government becomes a lawbreaker, it breeds contempt for law; it invites every man to become a law unto himself; it invites anarchy.
Lawyers need a counter-teaching campaign to make it clear to all that today’s law-breaking federal government is not even within the outer limits of acceptable norms. It is an extraordinarily dangerous aberration that rejects the rule of law and seeks to nullify our legal and traditional commitments to democracy.
Where can lawyers do this? Through newspaper opinion pieces and letters to the editor, on social media platforms and in talks, for example, at public libraries and before civic and neighborhood groups, fraternal organizations, and church groups, among others.
If lawyers do more, whatever that may be, their work will echo John Adams' words that it was “one of the best pieces of service I ever rendered my country."
This series from Lawyers Defending American Democracy connects the words of the Declaration of Independence and the Constitution to current events that threaten democracy and the justice system. Each piece highlights the unique responsibility lawyers carry—through their oath, professional obligations, and roles in their communities—to help the public understand what’s at risk and to speak out when democratic principles are under threat. LDAD’s call to action is straightforward: as the Founders once did, we must recognize threats to constitutional values, demand accountability, and act to defend them.
Michael Millemann is co-lead of the Maine chapter of Lawyers Defending American Democracy and is a retired lawyer and law professor. Shortly before retiring, he developed and taught a course for first-year law students on the lawyer's role in protecting democracy.
Keep ReadingShow less

Jonathan Landaeta #9 of the Latin America Region team from Barquisimeto, Venezuela slides into third base past Dylan Burke #9 of the Southwest Region team from Boerne, Texas in the fifth inning during the Little League World Series Consolation Game at Howard J. Lamade Stadium on August 25, 2024 in South Williamsport, Pennsylvania
Dylan Buell/Getty Images
For Two Weeks in August, Sports Still Belong to the Kids
Aug 18, 2026
Late August in America has a certain sound and scene. For me, it is an ESPN broadcast and the persistent drone of a camera somewhere above a baseball diamond in Williamsport, Pennsylvania. Beneath it: a collection of 11- and 12-year-olds doing something completely ordinary and, these days, increasingly extraordinary. They are playing baseball.
The Little League World Series, as I understood it as a kid, wasn't merely a sporting event. It was a fever dream. Kids from Seoul, Tokyo, Curaçao, and Texas suddenly occupied the same outfield. Different uniforms. Different languages. Same sweat. Same tears. Same inexplicable desire to chase a high fastball with two strikes.
And somewhere at home, millions of kids like me imagined Williamsport wasn't really that far away. Yes, too, I was one of them—in mind, if never quite in body. My own All-Star run ended mercifully. Though I never traveled that magic road to Williamsport, my aspirations never truly died.
Years later, adulthood deposited me in Williamsport on business. It was the offseason. No bunting. No television cameras. The fields sat empty, like theaters between performances. Still, standing near Howard J. Lamade Stadium, I felt it again. You could almost see the ghosts: children who briefly became international celebrities and then returned to seventh grade; kids whose baseball careers would end before high school graduation; others whose dreams became different dreams. Thus, making Williamsport more interesting than nostalgia. Because youth sports have changed.
The average American sports family spent $1,016 on a child's primary sport in 2024, which is 46 percent more than in 2019, according to research from the Aspen Institute's Project Play. Even families of children ages 6 to 10 averaged more than $1,000. Just a generation ago, most kids played seasonal sports close to home, with costs rarely stretching beyond a new glove or a pair of cleats. Now, expenses like travel teams, private lessons, and weekend tournaments have fundamentally shifted youth sports into something much more costly and selective. And children from households earning at least $100,000 are twice as likely to participate in travel sports as children from households earning under $50,000.
Parental hope, it turns out, is an extraordinarily lucrative natural resource. There is always another tournament. Another camp. Another private instructor. Another hotel weekend. Another promise that your child is one investment away from becoming elite. And baseball is especially susceptible.
Project Play found it was the most expensive of America's three most-played youth sports in its latest parent survey, with families spending more on registration, travel, lessons, and camps than their counterparts in soccer and basketball.
Interestingly, we have professionalized the pursuit of becoming a professional before many kids have figured out who they are. Then there’s Williamsport. Not as some pristine sanctuary untouched by money. Let's not get carried away. The 2026 Little League Baseball World Series has a presenting sponsor. Little League has official banking, automobile, apparel, beverage, restaurant, and even snacking-vegetable partners. ESPN's broadcast relationship with Little League extends through 2030.
Williamsport isn't outside the machine.
It is something more interesting: evidence that the machine doesn't have to consume the kids.
Little League tournament rules still contain peculiar restraints that sound almost radical in our optimization-obsessed sports culture. Every eligible player is placed in the continuous batting order. An 11- or 12-year-old pitcher gets 85 pitches in a day, maximum, with mandatory rest determined by workload. Games can end under 15- and 10-run rules; in other words: winning matters. But some things matter more.
A Japanese team stretches in astonishing synchronization. American kids invent increasingly elaborate handshakes. Players trade pins. Somebody builds something structurally unsound out of batting helmets. Then watch the handshake lines. Sometimes awkward. Sometimes tearful. Often both.
There is something almost subversive about watching children who may not share a language discover that they share disappointment. Or exhilaration. Or the universally miserable experience of striking out with the bases loaded.
Before adults teach children all the sophisticated reasons they are supposed to distrust one another, sports can teach them something simpler:
You are more like me than I thought.
That is what keeps bringing me back.
Not innocence exactly. Innocence is too easy.
Williamsport is an interruption.
In the late summer heat, the machinery slows just enough for us to remember what existed before we built all of this around it. Play. The wonderfully inefficient act of doing something because doing it brings joy.
For most of these kids, Williamsport will be the athletic summit of their lives. We have been conditioned to hear something sad in that sentence. Every childhood achievement is supposed to become the first chapter of a larger success story: Little League. Varsity. College. Draft. The Show. But almost nobody's life works that way.
Most of these players will become teachers and engineers and nurses and pastors and accountants and parents who someday embarrass their children by explaining, for perhaps the 700th time, that they once got a hit on ESPN. And there is something magnificent about that. An experience does not become less meaningful because it doesn't become a career. Nor is a childhood dream a failure because adulthood eventually replaces it.
At a moment when families are spending more, traveling farther, and specializing earlier, the Little League World Series offers a modest act of resistance—not because money is absent, but because money has not yet entirely swallowed the thing itself. The game remains visible. So does the joy.
I don't know what youth sports will look like in another decade. Potentially, every 10-year-old shortstop will have a sponsorship package, an analytics dashboard, and somebody advising him on engagement metrics. We are inventive people. If there is another inch of childhood available for monetization, somebody will find it.
But there is still Williamsport. Because for two weeks, Williamsport gives us a glimpse not of sports as they once were, but of sports as they might still be: Messy. International. Unoptimized. Joyful. Human. And, for one more summer, still belonging to the kids.
Rev. Dr. F. Willis Johnson is a spiritual entrepreneur, author, and scholar-practitioner whose leadership and strategies around social and racial justice issues are nationally recognized and applied.
Keep ReadingShow less
The Role of a History Museum in Our American Democracy
Aug 18, 2026
On July 24, the National Park Service began installing temporary signs on the walkways leading to the Smithsonian’s National Museum of American History. Following an order by President Trump, visitors are now directed toward a White House report claiming the museum has been captured by “extreme political activism.” Above the entrances to the National Museum of American History, will be these words: “Warning: the exhibits in this museum were prepared by people who don’t want you to love your country.”
As an African American woman, a cultural anthropologist, and a former museum director, I am aware of how dangerous this sign is. Indeed, the words in this warning carry the false and dangerous assumption that an individual or an institution cannot tell the truth about the past in our country and love our country.
Museums do much more than collect and display objects or works of art. Through an exhibition, a museum is charged to tell stories, and not just pretty stories or stories about pleasant happenings. History museums must be intentional about telling the whole story, which can and often does mean telling the story of events that can make one feel uncomfortable because these histories sometimes do not reflect the best that human beings can be. Psychologist Dolly Chugh has a term for what standing in front of that discomfort actually feels like. She calls it “belief grief,” which she defines as the shame, guilt, disbelief, and despair that surface when we unlearn a version of the past that we had believed was true. That grief is real, and it deserves to be taken seriously.
But the answer to this discomfort with the past is not to shield American people from our national story that produces “belief grief.” A country secure in its own future can afford an honest account of its past.
What a Warning Sign Is Actually Warning About
The 162-page report issued with the National Park Service’s new signage, titled “Saving America’s Story,” was produced by the White House Domestic Policy Council and released on July 4, the same week the administration marked the 250th anniversary of the Declaration of Independence. The report followed a March executive order, “Restoring Truth and Sanity to American History,” that had already directed the vice president and the Domestic Policy Council to identify and remove “improper ideology” from Smithsonian museums that it said had drifted from “straightforward historical education” toward ideology.
But presenting American history that is stripped of its contradictions can never be a truthful telling of our country’s past. And it will ask all Americans to love a country they were never allowed to actually know. In response to the signage President Trump has ordered to be placed at entrances to the Smithsonian American History Museum, the historical profession itself has not stayed quiet. The Organization of American Historians, the largest professional body of US historians, called the report part of “an ongoing and multi-pronged assault . . . against accurate and evidence-based history in American public life.” The National Council on Public History said, “Inclusive history is not partisan history; it is honest history.” Those aren’t fringe reactions or political stances. They are the discipline’s own professional associations, on the record, defending a standard of evidence over a standard of comfort.
The past does not stay in the past. It has descendants and it shapes our understanding of today. Pretending otherwise doesn’t produce patriotism. It produces amnesia. A museum that only tells visitors what makes them comfortable is not providing history. It is performing public relations. The secretary of the Smithsonian, Dr. Lonnie Bunch, and the director of the Smithsonian’s Museum of American History, Dr. Anthea Hartig, have described their work as grounded in scholarship, nonpartisanship, and “the fullness of America’s story.” That is not a slogan. It is the standard the Smithsonian holds itself to.
What Kind of Pressure This Actually Is
It’s important to be precise about what is happening with the signage that is being place at entrances to the Smithsonian’s American History Museum because it is not an obvious form of censorship. No one has shut down an exhibit by force or removed a single object from a wall. What’s happening is in some ways more detrimental: an American president and a committee he has appointed are directing the public toward one version of the record and away from another on the grounds that the version it disfavors is not history at all but “ideology.”
Look at the sequence of events. In March, an executive order directed the Domestic Policy Council to identify “improper ideology” in the Smithsonian’s museums. In July, the report supplied its justification for this action. Now the actual signs are physically placed on the walkways that visitors will use to enter, directing them to the administration’s own account before they have set foot inside. These signs display the explicit warning that the people who built the exhibits “don’t want you to love your country.”
Each step in this process involves President Trump and a committee he appointed using their positions not to argue with a museum’s scholarship, which it is free to do, but to physically intercept visitors on public walkways and tell them what to distrust before they have seen exhibits for themselves.
Who Pays for a Managed Past
Who loses the most when a nation’s history is being told based on the views of the president of our country and a committee he appointed rather than told in full? It is not the visitor who already knows the difficult chapters in the story of our country. And it is not the descendants of enslaved people. The disservice is to visitors who do not know much about the history of our country and walk into the Smithsonian American History Museum ready to learn but are then told is told in advance what they must believe about what they will see.
A managed past does not protect the vulnerable. It was never meant to. It protects the comfortable, shielding them from the discomfort of complicity rather than shielding anyone from harm. And it does this at the expense of everyone’s ability to understand how we arrived here together. A people who cannot learn the truth about its past cannot fully understand its strengths and challenges in the present. And it will be mighty difficult to prepare for its future. This fundamental truth is captured in this saying: “You can’t know where you are going if you don’t know where you have been.”
Why This Matters Beyond One Museum
The debate over the Smithsonian’s signage is not simply an argument about labels on exhibits or buildings. It is an argument about who gets to define what counts as an “accurate” historical account, backed by the authority of the federal government itself. That is a live question for anyone who cares about deliberative democracy, because a public that only encounters a curated, reassuring version of its own past is not being equipped to deliberate or think for itself.
Self-governance depends on citizens who can sit with disagreement, weigh conflicting or contradictory evidence, and reason through complexity together. It does not depend on citizens who arrive at a museum already told what conclusions to reach. A public steered toward a single approved narrative before it even walks through the door isn’t being protected from confusion, it’s being denied the chance to deliberate at all. You cannot weigh a story you were never allowed to encounter on its own terms.
Museums are not luxuries. They are lifelines. They preserve collective memory. To treat that work as suspect, or to post a warning label over it, is to treat memory itself as a threat when memory is not the threat. Selective memory is.
We must reach back and understand the whole weight of our past, not just the part that’s easy to carry. That means visiting the museums under pressure now, not after the pressure has done its work. It means telling the Smithsonian, and every institution facing this same test, that the public they answer to wants the full record, not the flattering one. It means insisting, at every age and in every generation, that looking back clearly is not weakness; it is how we, as a people, find our way forward.
A democracy that cannot face its past will not be equipped to face its future. The choice in front of us is not between comfort and discomfort. It is between memory and amnesia, and only one of those can carry a nation forward.
Johnnetta Betsch Cole is a noted anthropologist, educator, author, speaker, and social justice activist. She is the former president of both Spelman College and Bennett College and currently is a Charles F. Kettering Foundation senior fellow.
This article was originally published as part of From Many, We, a Charles F. Kettering Foundation blog series that highlights the insights of thought leaders dedicated to the idea of inclusive democracy.
Keep ReadingShow less
Load More
















