Daisy Justice – Free Speech Advocate & Gen Z College Perspective

Who I am

I’m not your mascot, your intern, or your burnout sob story.

I’m Daisy Justice. Your protesting, free speech evangelizing, Gen Z college student just trying to save democracy and get some good grades.

And I’m twenty-two years old, mad as hell, and still somehow full of hope.

Right now, I go to Texas State University. Or more truthfully, I show up when I can, I log in when I have to, and I read too much news while pretending to study for finals. I juggle debt and student logins and existential dread like most of my generation. I know what it’s like to feel like the future is rigged before you even touch it. And yet—I keep going. Because silence doesn’t suit me, and numbness doesn’t get us free.

I wasn’t always like this. I used to keep my head down and my TikToks light. I thought being “too political” was a phase people grew out of. But you grow up fast in a world on fire. You get lied to enough times, ignored enough times, patronized enough times—and suddenly, your whole body becomes a protest sign.

How I Got Here

People always ask where I get it from. Why I speak out. Why I care so damn much.

Let me introduce you to the Justice family.

My dad is Joe Bob Justice—loud, red-bearded, sharp-tongued and sharper-eyed. He used to believe in the system. Now he believes in calling BS wherever it lives. He’s the one who taught me to spot a con job when I see one and to say it plain even when it’s uncomfortable.

My aunt Liberty Lane? She’s grace in cowboy boots. Latina and proud. A woman who survived hypocrisy with her dignity intact. She taught me how to speak with power without shouting, and how to love your country enough to tell it the truth.

And then there’s Uncle Ezra. Well—Greta Uncle Ezra, technically.
He taught me about the Constitution. And he fought to defend it.

Uncle Ezra Stone (Ret.) is the kind of man who doesn’t talk unless it matters. His voice sounds like folded flags and courtroom oaths. He doesn’t scream. He remembers. And he reminds the rest of us what we’re supposed to stand for when the headlines blur.

So yeah. I come from fire and backbone. But I’m not just a remix of the people before me. I’m part of something new.

We Are Generation Burnout—and Generation Rebuild

They call us fragile, but we survived school shootings, lockdown drills, climate collapse, pandemic isolation, student debt, and watching democracy get auctioned off in real time.

We are the most diverse, most connected, and most gaslit generation in American history.

But guess what?

We’re also the most mobilized. We protest. And we protest. Again and again. 

Civil Disobedience is our jam.

Over 50% of Gen Z turned out in the 2020 election—the highest of any youth bloc in history. We organized climate strikes, mutual aid networks, student protests, and online campaigns before we could legally drink. And we’re just getting started.

Want receipts? Check out:

• Center for Information & Research on Civic Learning and Engagement

• Gen Z for Change for youth-led activism

• March for Our Lives if you’ve ever had to walk through a metal detector to go to algebra

We don’t all agree on everything. But we know what injustice looks like. And we’re allergic to pretending it’s normal.

What I Write About

This blog isn’t therapy. It’s testimony.

I write about the school I love and the future I fear. I write about the way we numb out on doomscrolls and the way we still keep showing up for each other anyway.

Some days I sound like a poem. Other days I sound like a girl who’s had it.

But I never write to perform. I write to connect. To remember. To resist.

I write for:

• The broke college kid who can’t afford textbooks or therapy

• The queer kid who’s tired of being a headline

• The activist who feels like they’re screaming into the algorithm

• The quiet one who still feels everything

A Call to My Generation

If you’re reading this and thinking, “It’s too late. Nothing matters,”—
That’s exactly what they want you to think.

Because if we believe we’re powerless, we won’t act.
If we believe we’re alone, we won’t connect.
If we believe hope is cringe, we’ll never build anything better.

But we are not powerless.
We are not alone.
And hope is a radical act—especially when the world says don’t bother.

So here’s your invitation:
Plug back in.
Speak even if your voice shakes.
Vote like your body depends on it—because for some of us, it literally does.
And if you’re tired? Rest. But don’t disappear.

Meet the Rest of the Justice Crew

My words make more sense when you know where I come from. So if you haven’t met the rest of my family, you’re in for a ride:

• Joe Bob Justice’s Bullshit-O-Meter – Loud, proud, and allergic to propaganda

• Liberty Lane’s Porch Talks – Dignity, grace, and fire in the belly

• Ezra Stone’s Constitutional Reflections – Oath-bound, battle-worn, and deadly serious 

We don’t all sound the same. But we all give a damn.

And if you do too?

Then welcome. You’re in the right place.
Let’s do what MATAs.