Good neighbors stand together
And we don't look away.
Rev. Margaret McGhee’s closing speech to the rally portion of Indivisible MHK’s No Kings 3.
A little while ago, Phil sang the Mr. Rogers theme song. “Won’t you be my neighbor?”
I think that might just be the most radical song in America right now. Because being good neighbors is what today is about.
You’ve heard your neighbors speak. You’ve heard your neighbors sing.
You’re sitting or standing next to someone you may not know yet—but you both showed up in the same place, on the same day, for the same reason.
And in a time when the loudest voices tell us to be afraid of each other, you came here to stand with each other.
What else does it mean to be a neighbor?
And look who’s here.
I see strollers and walkers. I see American flags. I’m pretty sure I saw a unicorn. This is what a neighborhood looks like. This is what democracy looks like.
It looks like all of us.
There’s so much coming at us right now. Every day, something new.
Cruelty toward immigrants.
Cruelty toward transgender people.
Attacks on the courts.
Corruption so brazen it doesn’t even bother to hide.
War abroad and indifference at home.
The outrages come so fast that the real danger isn’t any single new policy or event.
The real danger is that we stop seeing what’s happening around us. That we get used to it. That cruelty starts to seem normal.
We can’t let that happen.
We won’t always know the right thing to do. There’s no playbook for a time like this. But we don’t get to sit history out just because our path isn’t clear.
I know some of you are tired. I’m tired too.
I know some of you came today not because you feel strong, but because you didn’t want to be alone.
That’s actually a pretty good reason to be here.
Because here’s what I want you to see: look around this park.
This is power.
You’re not watching from the sidelines. You’re here. The people who spoke and sang before me are here. Your neighbors are here.
Kansas has been here before. This state was founded by people who believed that human freedom was more important than their personal comfort.
The arguments we hear on the news and on social media—that some people don’t count, that cruelty’s just the cost of doing business, that power means you don’t have to answer to anyone—Kansas has heard those arguments before.
And Kansas has said no before. We can say no again.
Not just today. Monday morning. Next week.
Call your representatives.
Get to know your neighbors better.
Write a letter.
Volunteer at a food pantry.
But above all, keep your eyes open. Don’t turn away.
You’re not powerless. You never were.
Tomorrow in my church, we’ll celebrate Palm Sunday. It’s a day when we remember a crowd of ordinary people who walked into the seat of empire with no weapon but hope.
They didn’t know how their story would end.
They knew there might be dark days ahead.
But they showed up anyway. And that’s what you’re doing today.
Walk with us over to Poyntz Avenue. Make your voice heard.
Protesters on Poyntz Ave., March 28, 2026
And then rest if you need to.
But don’t let this feeling go.
Hold onto it.
Let it make you stubborn.
Let it make you kind.
And when the next hard thing comes—because it will—remember today.
Remember your neighbors. Remember that you’re not alone.
It may indeed be the end of the world as we know it.*
But that doesn’t mean it’s the end of hope.
We can use this moment to build a better world.
May our courage be stubborn. May our kindness be fierce. And may we never forget what’s possible when we show up—together.
Thank you for being here today.
Thank you for being my neighbor.
* Allusion to R.E.M.’s “It’s the End of the World as We Know It (and I Feel Fine),” which Phil Nel performed just before she spoke.