This was our last straw.

This is a personal project, so I want to start with a personal story. I'm a white, straight, cisgender man. For much of my life, I moved through the world without having to question whether I was safe, welcome, or belonged. My comfort was a privilege I didn't fully see, one built on systems that oppress others.

The Last Straw

Over time, that comfort began to feel like complicity. I noticed the gaps, the harm that wasn't being named—especially by people who looked like me. Then something clicked: the simple act of speaking out against hate had started to feel risky, like stepping out of line. That chilling realization was my last straw.

The feeling crystallized one Father’s Day weekend. Driving with my family, we passed a protest, sparking the familiar, helpless question: "What can one person with a job and a family actually *do*?" I knew there had to be others like me—people who see the rising tide of hate and want change, but feel unsure where to start. At breakfast, I joked, “What if we took back ‘bro culture’ for good and called it a ‘Brotest’?” It started as a joke, but the idea stuck.

From Symbol to System

At first, the idea was just a signal, like a hat, so silent allies could find each other. But a symbol is passive. A promise isn't enough if you're still just standing by. We needed a *practice*—something active that could create real change.

That realization sent me into the work of activists, writers, and educators. I had to confront the hard truth that while I had privilege, I wasn't using it. The more I learned, the more I understood that the public silence around injustice isn't an accident. It’s a feature of the system, designed to keep us disconnected and quiet. The mission became clear: we had to create safe ways for people to learn, grow, and break that silence together.

Making Action Approachable

But how do you practice solidarity? In a conversation with a friend, we hit on it. I’ve always loved games and scavenger hunts. What if the practice was a game? Not to make light of the problem, but to make the work *approachable*. To turn huge, abstract ideas into small, tangible actions—single "drops" of change. That’s how Jourop was born.

This whole project is the result of that journey. It's a way to turn frustration into fuel and privilege into a tool for change. It's a training ground, built on the belief that many small drops can, and will, become a storm.