I believe in exercising the right to opt out—not just when traveling, but in many subtle ways. If we do not exercise this right, our freedom is quietly chipped away. Since 9/11 and the Patriot Act, we’ve slid into a culture of automatic compliance. But small refusals, such as saying “No, thank you,” are exercises in sovereignty.
When I travel, I always opt out of both the full-body scanner and the photograph taken when checking ID. I often don’t even need to refuse the scanner. If I have my children with me, the Transportation Security Administration (TSA) automatically sends us through the metal detector instead. According to official TSA policy, these screenings are safe for all, including children and pregnant women. Still, health organizations such as the International Atomic Energy Agency caution against unnecessary exposure, especially for vulnerable groups. And here is the provocative bit: TSA won’t send pets through the scanner because they’re deemed too vulnerable. If it’s safe for adults but not for children or pets, what does that indicate?
For me, saying “no” isn’t alarmist; it’s about keeping the autonomy muscle active. After the sweeping compliance we saw in the COVID-19 era, we’ve forgotten our ability to dissent. Small decisions such as this remind me how to say “no” when it truly matters.
If enough of us opted out, it would eventually become a labor issue, and TSA would likely have to change its policy. But we don’t opt out; we comply, and our freedoms are not taken all at once. They disappear little by little, two steps forward and one step back, until suddenly we’ve crossed a point of no return.
There may be no future that doesn’t involve some form of the dystopian control grid many have warned about, but on an individual level, I want to be powerful at saying “no.” I want to resist the pull of embarrassment or humiliation. What those at TSA think of me should not matter—not because they don’t matter (they are divine creatures made in the image of God like all of us) but because they will forget me by the next day, and I will forget them. Why should their opinion determine my choices? I want to know that I can feel uncomfortable, shamed, or embarrassed and still stand up for what I believe. Just as going to the gym strengthens your body, saying “no” in the face of disapproval strengthens your ability to stand up for yourself.
I’m not alone. Civil liberties groups have challenged TSA practices in court. In a landmark 2010 lawsuit, EPIC v. Department of Homeland Security, the Electronic Privacy Information Center argued that TSA violated the Administrative Procedure Act by deploying body scanners without public notice or proper rulemaking, perhaps infringing on Privacy Act protections, religious rights, and the Fourth Amendment. The U.S. Court of Appeals for the District of Columbia Circuit agreed in part, ordering TSA to conduct formal rulemaking.
Other groups such as the American Civil Liberties Union and the New York Civil Liberties Union have pressured TSA through lawsuits seeking transparency about programs such as Screening of Passengers by Observation Techniques and policies involving device searches and traveler profiling.
This isn’t about proving that the scanners are harmful; it’s about asserting that even if they might be safe, our right to decline matters. The same goes for the familiar argument “You had childhood vaccines, so what’s the difference with COVID-19 shots?” The difference is choice. We should always have the right to say “no,” to change our minds, and to decide what happens to the body that houses our soul.
Without that sovereignty, we have nothing left.
