The Setup
Thursday, July 17, 2025 – 6:30 PM – Van der Donck Park, Yonkers
Beneath the open skies of Van der Donck Park, beside the Hudson and just steps from the Yonkers Riverfront Library, over 175 people gathered not for a performance, but for a purpose. The Good Trouble Rally for Justice was part of a national series honoring the life and legacy of Congressman John Lewis, a giant of the Civil Rights Movement whose legacy continues to push us toward truth, action, and transformation.
Organized by the NAACP Yonkers Branch #2188, under the leadership of President Kisha Skipper, in partnership with NYCD 16/15 Indivisible and co-founder Eileen O’Connor, this event wasn’t just a call to remember, it was a call to reignite.
A Run of Show Like No Other
This wasn’t a program with clear lines between “youth” and “electeds.”
It was a beautifully blended composition, a communal rhythm where elders and emerging voices moved in seamless harmony.
From the very first words, the audience was held in sacred space, opened by Rev. Margaret Fountain-Coleman, who grounded the event with an invocation that called in our ancestors and challenged us to move with intention.
Youth Voices: The Synthesizer of the Night
The young people weren’t here to fill time; they were here to speak truth. And they did that with clarity, conviction, and culture.
- Kory Skipper-Miller, just 10 years old, started the engine. With a voice already known across social media for his powerful advocacy, he reminded us that youth activism isn’t waiting, it’s already here.
- Destiney Bella Kinsey, 11 years old, filmmaker, co-director of “Rise & Stop Bullies,” told us what time it is: “Clean your lens. Adjust your glasses.” Her words sliced through bias like sunlight through fog.
- Dana Peña, 17, on her way to Baruch College to study Political Science, stood fully in her purpose: “Community starts with us.” Not when we’re older. Not when we’re asked. Now.
- Alexander Hall, also 17 and a proud member of Groundwork Hudson Valley, carried it home: “We’re here because we can make a tangible impact in real time, at any age.”
These four didn’t open the evening; they orchestrated it. Their words weren’t warmups; they were the movement.
Building with Elected Officials
While U.S. Congressman George Latimer was unable to attend in person, he sent a representative who stood in solidarity with the community and reaffirmed his commitment to public safety, equity, and youth-led transformation.
The evening also featured appearances from:
- NY Senate Majority Leader Andrea Stewart-Cousins
- State Senator Shelley Mayer
- Assembly Member Nader Sayegh
- Westchester County Executive Ken Jenkins
They didn’t just take the mic. They stood in the moment.
They bore witness.
They heard the challenge.
And then… Joanne Robinson-Boettcher stepped forward.
A longtime NAACP leader, truth-teller, and community force, her words didn’t just inspire, they ignited.
She didn’t give a speech. She gave us an assignment:
“Speak up. Speak out. And let them know you represent us. We are the reason they have money in the bank. Only you can make the difference. Your voice is to be heard, right here, right now, and forever.”
With conviction ringing through every syllable, she reminded us that our presence is power, and our silence is no longer an option. That wasn’t motivation, that was mobilization. You could feel the crowd shift. This was the moment where inspiration became instruction.
Community champions like Mujahadeen Muhammed, Steven Siebert, and Diana Sanchez followed with ground-level truth, reinforcing what Joanne made clear: we’re not just residents, we’re the reason. And we have every right to rise, speak, and shift this city.
My Offering: Good Trouble, On Purpose
As a poet, mother, healer, and someone who moves daily through the underbelly of systems designed to forget people, I carry stories that don’t always get told, but always need to be heard. I wasn’t born in Yonkers, but this city has wrapped me in love like family. It felt only right to offer this poem as both reflection and fuel, for the elders who still fight, the youth who won’t wait, and the communities who keep daring to rise. Good Trouble lives in us. And it was an honor to speak it into this soil.
Good Trouble, On Purpose By Larnez Kinsey
They don’t silence us ‘cause we loud…
They silence us ’cause we light.
‘Cause when we speak,
the truth got teeth.
It bites.
It builds.
It breaks chains.
And it doesn’t beg for permission to breathe.
See…
Good Trouble isn’t rebellion.
It’s ritual.
It’s resurrection.
It’s the grandbabies of the Black Panthers
and the prayers of Puerto Rican abuelitas
still rising like incense through project hallways.
Good Trouble is sacred.
Like the hands of a mother who still shows up
with a busted heart
and a bag of snacks
for every child that ain’t hers,
but is.
‘Cause in YO?
We don’t wait to be called community.
We become it.
This isn’t noise.
This is North Broadway blues
turned battle cry.
This is nods on the 6 bus
and side-eyes that say “I see you.”
This is Harriet in our heartbeat
and Baldwin in our bones.
This is not protest,
This is prophecy.
This is what happens
when kids from School 13
start testifying truth
with chalk on concrete
and elders at Grace Baptist
still pray with fire in their throats.
Good Trouble is knowing.
Knowing you were never meant to just survive.
You were born to disturb the waters.
To speak when silence feels safe.
To heal out loud,
in spaces they swore we were too broken to bless.
We are not broken.
We are beacons.
We are not shadows.
We are scripture.
Living.
Breathing.
We are our ancestors’ sacred psalms,
moving through concrete and memory.
So let ‘em look confused.
Let ‘em call us radical.
We just remind ‘em
we were never supposed to wait our turn
we were meant to turn the table.
Because this isn’t just resistance.
This is remembrance.
This is Grandmas with gold teeth and gospel grit.
This is corner store prophets
and healing in the garden plots.
This is tambourines in council meetings.
This is Black girl joy in a system built for our silence.
So no,
We won’t sit quiet.
We baptize sidewalks with our stories.
We speak names they tried to bury.
We walk in rooms they boarded up
and leave ‘em blessed and broken open.
We are not the echo.
We are the origin.
The storm.
The psalm.
The reason your grandmama still hums at the stove
like freedom is so close.
This ain’t chaos,
This is calibration.
This ain’t noise,
This is new alignment.
We the sound of the shift.
The breath of the bridge.
The Good Trouble
they prayed would never come.
But here we are.
On purpose.
Unbought.
Unbossed.
And undeniably divine.
On mission.
And right on time.
From This Moment to Many More
If you weren’t at Van der Donck Park that evening, know this: exactly what was needed happened. You were with us in spirit. The energy is now travelling, moving through fingers typing, pens writing, voices rising in living rooms and schools.
This is the lull before the leap. The recalibration before the march. The meditation before the movement. And Yonkers? You showed up & showed out. With rhythm. With legacy. With purpose.
Final Word
This rally, this reckoning, was never about what ended.
It was always about what begins.
Yonkers didn’t just honor John Lewis;
Yonkers embraced his question:
“If not us, then who? If not now, then when?”
And the beautiful truth, here on these streets, is:
verging toward good trouble doesn’t wait.
Because good trouble made this city.
And this city, she claimed us back.
On purpose. In purpose.
In sweet, sacred sync.
Wow! Thank you for capturing that moment! It was an honor to hold up the life and legacy of John R Lewis. It’s our turn to make him proud!
Thank you for your comment and for getting involved in the next generation of Good Trouble