We Put Up Billboards. In His District. With His Name On Them. And We’re Just Getting Started.

Andy Harris is Maryland's only Republican in Congress. He voted like nobody was watching. We made sure they are.

Today was a good day.

Two billboards went up on Route 50 in Cambridge, Maryland — right in the heart of Andy Harris’s congressional district — and they have some things to say.

“Why are prices so high? Because Andy Harris sides with corporations and billionaires over you.”

“Who voted to cut your healthcare? Andy Harris did. Repeatedly.”

Both point to TheAndyFiles.com. Which we built. Which is live. Which puts his entire congressional record — votes, statements, sponsored legislation — in plain language, sourced, for anyone who wants to see it.

We launched today on purpose. May Day. International Workers’ Day. The day the world stops to remember that every protection working people have ever had — the eight-hour workday, the weekend, the minimum wage, workplace safety laws, the right to organize — was not given. It was fought for. By people who were beaten and jailed and blacklisted and killed for daring to say that their labor had value and their lives had dignity.

We launched today to say: we know where we come from. And we know what we’re doing.

This week also brought us a Supreme Court decision that took a sledgehammer to voting rights. If you need to sit with that for a minute, sit with it. Grief is real. Rage is appropriate. Feel it.

And then get back up.

Because here’s what I need you to understand about this moment: we have momentum. I know it doesn’t feel like it. I know it feels like we’re getting hit from every direction — the courts, the Congress, the cabinet, the chaos — and that the ground keeps shifting under our feet. But movements don’t always feel like momentum when you’re inside them. Sometimes momentum feels like exhaustion. Sometimes it feels like showing up anyway.

Ask the workers who went on strike in 1886 and got massacred at Haymarket Square so that you could have a forty-hour work week. Ask the students who sat at lunch counters while people poured food on their heads and kept sitting. Ask the marchers who crossed the Edmund Pettus Bridge, got beaten back, and came back again — because John Lewis didn’t call it a defeat. He called it unfinished business.

Ask Gloria Richardson — right here in Cambridge, Maryland, in 1963 — who stared down the National Guard with a bayonet at her chest and did not flinch. She was 41 years old. She had a daughter. She was done asking nicely. The Cambridge Movement she led didn’t make the history books the way Selma did, but it changed this country. And she did it right here, on this ground, in this community where I now have the profound honor of organizing.

The Black community in this country has never stopped fighting — not after Reconstruction was stolen, not after Jim Crow, not after every rollback and reversal and “not yet” this country has thrown at them. They built the playbook we are all running right now. Ella Baker. Fannie Lou Hamer. John Lewis. Gloria Richardson, right here on this ground. They didn’t fight because they thought it would be easy or because the odds were good. They fought because freedom doesn’t negotiate and justice doesn’t wait.

If you want to know how to move in this moment, study them. Not as symbols. As strategists. As organizers. As people who understood that the work is long and the work is now and you do not get to choose only one.

Some of us — and I include myself — have had the profound privilege of being able to get comfortable. Of being able to look away. Of choosing when to engage and when to opt out. That privilege is over. Not because someone took it from us. Because we finally understand what it cost other people for us to have it in the first place. We cannot afford to get comfortable again. We never should have been.

We are not throwing our hands up. We are not sitting this one out. We are not waiting for someone else to fix it.

We are putting up billboards and building accountability websites and registering voters and showing up en masse and doing mutual aid and talking with our neighbors and calling our representatives relentlessly and holding Andy Harris’s feet to the fire every single day — because that is what this moment demands, and because the workers and the marchers and the organizers who came before us did not bleed for us to tap out.

Too hard is not an option.

Twenty-seven thousand people in MD-01 are projected to lose their health coverage because of the One Big Beautiful Bill. Andy Harris was the only Maryland lawmaker who voted for it. Our farmers are getting crushed by tariffs he backed. He voted against the largest veterans healthcare expansion in decades. Voting rights are being dismantled in real time by a Supreme Court that has decided accountability is inconvenient.

And we are here. Building. Fighting. Expanding. On May Day. On purpose.

We raised enough to put up two billboards for two months. Now we want more — more communities, more visibility, all the way through November — because the Eastern Shore is not a sacrifice zone and this congressman’s record should not be a secret.

If you’ve got five dollars or fifty: secure.actblue.com/donate/noandyharris

If you want to see what we built: TheAndyFiles.com

We have been through worse. We have always come back. We are coming back from this.

The workers knew it in 1886. Gloria Richardson knew it in 1963. And we know it now.

Today was a good day. Let’s make November a reckoning.