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Over the past week, a certain narrative has taken root—one that than the continued massacre of Black people by police, and that to mass nationwide protests. It’s despicable—albeit predictable—messaging from a U.S. president who has never hidden his , further bolstered by .

But the fact is, this prioritization of property over people didn’t start from Trump. Much of the iconography of the traditional American Dream narrative is, after all, predicated on property: Americans devote their lives to the pursuit of a home with a white picket fence and a two-car garage, and while even before the pandemic hit, the nostalgic fantasy of the brick-and-mortar storefront still plays a powerful role in the American psyche.

This reverence for property is inextricably tied with the United States’ devaluation of Black lives. Nikole Hannah-Jones’s landmark in The New York Times Magazine launched from a straightforward, unimpeachable argument: “No aspect of the country that would be formed here has been untouched by the years of slavery that followed.” (Disclosure: Hannah-Jones is an Emerson Fellow at �鶹������ý.) And Raven Rakia wrote in a about property’s historic relationship with race: “For 300 years, the very idea of a black person’s freedom was a direct threat to white men’s property. After slavery, lynchings were often targeted at blacks who had gained relative wealth and therefore, challenged the wealth and property of white men.” Those same dynamics play out today in the systemic denial of Black property rights through , , , and so much more.

In this context, destruction of property is a direct challenge to a system built on the exploitation and oppression of Black lives; as Rakia wrote, “Nothing gets the attention of the elite like taking away or destroying what they value above all else: property. In America, property is racial. It always has been.” Property destruction has also played a well-documented role in throughout history—the Boston Tea Party, for instance, as well as Nelson Mandela’s anti-Apartheid efforts, the destruction of the East/West Berlin border, and countless other acts of protest and rebellion.

Destruction of property is a direct challenge to a system built on the exploitation and oppression of Black lives.

In short, property only matters as a means to something bigger: people’s ability to live and prosper safely with their families. For marginalized people, there’s never been any question that social disruption or property destruction can be useful tactics in the fight for human lives and dignity. And if those who profess allyship are to play a substantive role in this movement, they must also recognize the value of these efforts.

Michelle Brown, the owner of seems to understand this better than most. Over the course of last weekend’s protests, one of her restaurants was —but even as it burned, she made her stance abundantly clear : “Before anyone puts a single word in our mouths. Black lives matter.”

Brown’s grace in the face of a legitimately devastating event contrasts damningly with the open callousness of many of our elected representatives, who, among other things, have against protesters. Our leaders’ responses have prompted justified and with protesters from the international community; have to call for justice for George Floyd’s murder. They understand, it seems, what the president and his supporters do not: People’s lives—yes, Black lives included—matter more than the property damage that’s followed a week of largely peaceful protests.

“Any architect will tell you that if you don't have a strong foundation, the building's going to be shaky, and shaky from day one,” filmmaker Spike Lee said in a . “This original sin has not been dealt with since the birth of this country.” Black people have asserted for centuries that, in order to grapple with today’s inequities, we must first address our racist foundation. But, as the for Hannah-Jones’s 1619 Project demonstrates, white America has refused to heed that warning. What we’re seeing now, in cities across the United States, is the logical fallout of that complacency.

So protesters, keep on—and to those allies peppering Black people with questions about what they can do to help, a quick search will uncover a wealth of resources for supporting , , and . Because while burned buildings and broken windows can always be replaced, Black lives can’t be—and they are always worth defending.