top of page
Search

PROTECT OUR PARKS PROJECT: What We’ve Seen by Day 3

  • Writer: Danika Fornear
    Danika Fornear
  • 23 hours ago
  • 5 min read
moms and kids in van

It’s only Day Three of our cross-country Protect Our Parks Tour, and already our kids have learned more about American history, climate justice, Indigenous sovereignty, and the consequences of silence than most textbooks will ever teach.


We’ve barely scratched the surface of our 18-day journey—but these first 72 hours have been rich with story, connection, heartbreak, and hope. From sacred tribal sites to civil rights landmarks, this trip is more than a protest. It’s a classroom. It’s a call to action. And it’s a reminder that democracy doesn’t live in marble buildings—it lives in us.


Day 1: The Roads to Resistance Are Paved in Georgia Clay

We hit the road on June 3, heading straight for Atlanta, Georgia a place that sits at the heart of so many of America’s deepest contradictions—land of beauty and brutality, of fierce resistance and forced removals, of revolutionary dreams and devastating silences. You cannot understand this country’s history—or its future—without understanding the stories rooted in Georgia’s red clay.


Here, in what is now Atlanta, movements for liberation were born and reborn. It’s where the legacy of enslavement built towering wealth—and where people like Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. and Coretta Scott King dared to challenge the lie that justice can wait. The monuments and museums tell a sanitized version, but the real history is heavier. This was ground zero for both the cruelty of Jim Crow and the strategic brilliance of the Civil Rights Movement. The word “nonviolence” gets tossed around today like a slogan—but in Georgia, it was a weapon sharpened by community organizers, church elders, and young people willing to put their bodies on the line.


Long before the Civil Rights era, this land was home to sovereign Indigenous nations—the Muscogee (Creek), Cherokee, and others—whose sophisticated agricultural systems, ecological knowledge, and trade networks were erased by settler violence and forced displacement. The Trail of Tears doesn’t begin and end with a sad footnote; it carved trauma into this landscape, into generations. The trees remember. So do the rivers.


Georgia’s natural beauty has also been a target of exploitation. From the clearcutting of forests to the industrial poisoning of Black and Indigenous communities, the land itself has been treated as expendable. This legacy of extraction continues today as rural communities are sacrificed to mega-landfills, fossil fuel plants, and deregulated development. And like everything else—it’s connected. Climate injustice isn’t some abstract crisis. It’s right here in Georgia’s scorched summers, flood-prone coasts, and toxic soil.


And that’s the lesson Georgia has to offer: the truth matters—but only if it leads to action. You can’t pave over stolen land, name a highway after a civil rights hero, and pretend that’s justice. The past doesn’t just haunt us—it shapes everything around us.


What we remember, and how we remember it, is a political act. Georgia dares us not to forget.


We slept in a hotel just outside Atlanta, the kids buzzing with questions. If we know all of this, why do we still have to fight for the same things? What happens if nobody listens?


We told them: We keep fighting anyway.


women talking in museum
Dani Haggman and museum guide discuss history at Chucalissa Site



Day 2: Memphis, Fossils, and the Truth They Don’t Tell in School

In Memphis, we visited the Chucalissa Archaeological Site, a powerful place where Mississippian culture, Indigenous history, and modern activism meet. The kids touched ancient pottery and fossils from mastodons and mammoths. They learned what it means to repatriate artifacts—and why it’s important to return sacred items to the communities they were taken from.


We talked about NAGPRA—the Native American Graves Protection and Repatriation Act—and how museums and governments often fight to hold onto stolen culture. But here at Chucalissa, the story is different. Local tribes helped shape this museum. They shared their items not to display their trauma—but to teach and empower future generations.


And our kids? They were soaking it all in like little sponges. One asked, “Why didn’t they tell us about this in school?” Another said, “I want to build a museum that gives everything back.”


Meanwhile, we passed through parts of the Trail of Tears, following the literal path of forced removal that tore thousands of Native families from their homes. We didn’t sanitize it. The kids asked hard questions. We gave honest answers. Even the youngest among them could feel the grief in the land.


road sign for Trail of Tears

Day 3: St. Louis, Rosa Parks, and the Highway of Hypocrisy

We crossed the Rosa Parks Memorial Highway this morning—a strange contrast to the reality of how this country still treats Black women who speak up. Phoenix said it best: “If they really cared about her, they would stop hurting people like her.”


She’s not wrong. Naming highways after civil rights heroes means nothing when Black children are still being policed and punished for existing. We also drove past the so-called Lewis and Clark Trail, which sparked a deep conversation about colonization, erasure, and the story of Sacagawea—often told without truth or consent.


We talked about what it means to really teach history—not just the whitewashed myths but the messy, complicated, and painful realities. We reminded the kids that knowledge is power—but only if you use it.


And Now? We’re Headed to Brown v. Board

We’re on the road to Topeka, Kansas—where the Brown v. Board of Education National Historic Site waits. It’s not just another stop on the map. It’s the birthplace of one of the most important Supreme Court rulings in American history. And it’s where we’ll talk to our children about segregation, desegregation, and the ways racism still shapes every zip code, every school, every budget.


They’re ready. They’ve got crayons, water bottles, and so many questions.


So do we.


Why This Tour Matters

This tour isn’t a vacation. It’s a protest on wheels. A mobile classroom. A witness trip. A truth caravan.


We’re documenting the ways America’s public lands, historical monuments, and cultural narratives are under attack—not just from corporations and climate collapse, but from propaganda, white supremacy, and political erasure. We are here to say: You can’t whitewash history, pave over public lands, and call it progress.


And the best part? Our kids are watching. And they’re learning how to fight back.


Help Us Keep Going

We are three moms and five kids doing this on grit, love, and the support of our community. If you believe in protecting parks, telling the truth, and building a better future for all our children, please help us keep this tour alive:


Donate:



Follow our journey:


Instagram


Facebook


Substack


Spread the word. Share our posts. Talk to your kids. Demand more from your leaders.




Sources & Learn More:


Martin Luther King Jr. National Historical Park: https://www.nps.gov/malu/index.htm


Chucalissa Museum & Archaeological Site: https://www.memphis.edu/chucalissa




Brown v. Board of Education Site: https://www.nps.gov/brvb/index.htm

 
 
 

Comments


ABOUT US >

Save Our Democracy Corps is a 501(c)4 nonprofit social welfare agency dedicated to voter education, community support, and supporting freedom-focused candidates.  

Subscribe to Our Newsletter

Thanks for submitting!

© 2025 Save Our Democracy Corp

CONTACT >

T: (239) 351-5574

E: info@save-our-democracy.com

bottom of page