When you have a president who mocks our inclusivity, who

Hear the fiery words of Kevin de León: “When you have a president who mocks our inclusivity, who demonizes our diversity… you can’t ask for patience.” In this utterance lies both indignation and truth, for there are times in history when to wait is betrayal, when to be silent is to consent, when to be patient is to allow injustice to grow unchecked. These words are not born of calm reflection, but of the fire that arises when a people see their dignity attacked and their humanity diminished.

The ancients themselves knew that patience, though a virtue, has its limits. There is a patience that endures hardship with strength, but there is also a patience that becomes surrender. When a ruler scorns inclusivity, when he tears at the fabric of diversity, he does not merely offend, he divides, he weakens the nation by setting neighbor against neighbor. In such times, waiting meekly for change is not wisdom—it is folly. The words of de León are a cry to rise, to resist, to speak truth against mockery and oppression.

History provides us countless mirrors. Recall the age of Martin Luther King Jr. He was told again and again by those in power, “Wait. Be patient. Change takes time.” Yet in his Letter from Birmingham Jail, he thundered that “justice too long delayed is justice denied.” African Americans, mocked, segregated, and scorned, could not be asked for patience while their very dignity was under daily assault. Like de León’s words, King’s message was clear: patience is noble when progress is visible, but it becomes poison when it is used to excuse delay in confronting injustice.

Consider also the story of Gandhi in India. When the British Empire mocked the spirit of self-rule, dismissing Indians as unfit to govern themselves, they counseled patience—centuries of it. But Gandhi knew that patience, if demanded by oppressors, is a tool of control. Instead, he transformed patience into active resistance—peaceful yet relentless, nonviolent yet unyielding. He showed the world that to honor diversity, to demand inclusivity, is not to wait meekly, but to stand firmly, refusing to be diminished.

De León’s words remind us that the values of inclusivity and diversity are not ornaments to be admired when convenient, but pillars of justice that must be defended when threatened. A leader who mocks them seeks to erode the unity of the people, to fracture the bonds of citizenship. Against such derision, the people cannot be passive; they must rise with courage. For when the foundation is shaken, every hand is required to steady the house. Patience cannot rebuild what mockery destroys—only action, only solidarity, only steadfast resistance can.

The lesson, then, is that there are seasons for patience, and there are seasons for urgency. When injustice mocks human dignity, the time of waiting ends, and the time of boldness begins. To every citizen falls the duty to defend the sacred truth: that a nation is strongest when it embraces its differences, when it honors the many voices and faces that dwell within it. To shrink from this duty, to wait in silence, is to abandon the very soul of the community.

Practical wisdom flows from this. Speak boldly against mockery and division, even in small circles of influence. Stand in defense of those who are targeted or silenced. Act where you can—in the ballot box, in the workplace, in your neighborhood. And above all, reject the false call to patience when it is used as a mask for complacency. For history shows us that change comes not to those who wait passively, but to those who demand it with courage, conviction, and unity.

Thus, let Kevin de León’s words be carved into memory: when leaders scorn inclusivity and vilify diversity, the people must rise. They must refuse the chains of false patience, and instead act as guardians of justice. For in defending these values, we defend not only the dignity of each person, but the very heart of humanity itself.