The Gulf Coast air hangs heavy with the scent of salt and the quiet energy of honest work. I’ve arrived in Mobile, Alabama, on my journey across America, and it’s a city pulsing with a pride born of labor, a deep-seated faith, and a simple desire for a good life. Yet, the news on my phone paints a drastically different picture – a fractured nation consumed by conflict, specifically the escalating tensions in Minneapolis.
Two recent fatal shootings, Renee Good and Alex Pretti, have ignited a cultural flashpoint. One side champions aggressive border security and a firm hand in maintaining order, while the other cries out against what they perceive as excessive force and federal overreach. Walking these Southern roads, a question lingers: are we losing sight of the values that once bound us together in this relentless culture war?
Everyone claims the moral high ground, yet their visions of America are worlds apart. The debate boils down to personal responsibility versus grievance, secure borders versus open leniency. A progressive wave, gaining momentum in cities like Minneapolis, is challenging the foundations of law enforcement and, some argue, excusing disorder in the name of social justice.
At stake is the very essence of ordered liberty. Will we uphold the rule of law, protect our communities, and safeguard the right to self-reliance? Or will we succumb to endless division, a weakening of our sovereignty, and a nation where chaos reigns? The answer, I believe, isn’t found in more government intervention or radical activism, but in the enduring principles I’m witnessing here in Mobile.
Mobile, America’s oldest port city, wasn’t built on academic theories or federal funding. It rose through generations of hard work, free enterprise, and individual accountability. It’s a stark contrast to areas like Chicago’s South Side, where the focus often shifts to government programs and wealth redistribution, inadvertently fostering cycles of dependency.
Here, dockworkers, shipbuilders, and logistics crews are actively creating wealth and opportunity. The Port of Mobile is a testament to the power of good, honest jobs – jobs rooted in industry and initiative – to deliver dignity far more effectively than any government handout. When people are valued for their contributions, communities thrive.
Unlike Minneapolis, where failed policies have allowed crime and disorder to flourish, Mobile demonstrates that a strong work ethic and a locally driven economy, free from excessive regulation, are the true engines of prosperity and safety. It’s a place where people show up, work hard, and build lasting legacies.
I didn’t come to Mobile to preach or impose solutions. I came to listen and learn. True leadership doesn’t dictate from above; it walks alongside communities, respects their inherent strengths, and builds from the ground up. You can’t heal what you don’t love, and genuine transformation, like the work we’ve done with Project H.O.O.D. in Chicago, grows organically from local faith, family, and responsibility.
Pastors, parents, and workers have welcomed me not as an outsider, but as a fellow traveler seeking common ground. This stands in stark contrast to the ideological battles paralyzing Minneapolis, where federal intervention clashes with radical resistance, and common sense is drowned out by the noise.
The South’s quiet resurgence challenges the dismissive labels of coastal elites. What’s often mocked as “backward” is, in reality, forward-thinking: lower costs of living that allow families to flourish, strong marriages and churches that provide moral anchors, and a belief in personal ownership over government dependency.
Mobile has weathered countless hurricanes, yet its people rebuild with resilience, helping neighbors and sustaining hope through faith. They embrace responsibility instead of making excuses. When faith falters, as it has in many urban centers, communities begin to crumble.
Government can enforce compliance, but only faith and the individual conscience can truly transform hearts and rebuild societies. It’s a lesson etched into the very fabric of this city, a lesson I carry with me as I continue my walk across America.
