I spent the weekend in Des Moines, Iowa, speaking on the main stage at the Gun Owners Advocacy and Leadership Summit, better known as GOALS. This year marked the 50th anniversary of Gun Owners of America, and thousands of people gathered to celebrate five decades of what the organization calls its defining principle: “No Compromise.”
I spoke about something that might seem unexpected at a gun rights conference: the relationship between the Second Amendment and food freedom. My argument was simple. If we cannot preserve the right to provide for and defend ourselves, every other freedom eventually becomes dependent on someone else’s permission.
The conference itself was exactly what you might imagine. Beautifully decorated ballrooms. Politicians. Influencers. Veterans. Families. A media room where speakers rotated through interviews after leaving the stage. A trade show floor stretched for what felt like acres with firearms, optics, tactical equipment, survival gear, and every imaginable accessory. Thousands of people had traveled from around the country, while many more tuned in online.
But what stayed with me wasn’t the gear.
It was the phrase: “No Compromise.”
That philosophy is so different from my own instinct.
By nature, I look for common ground. I soften my language. I try to understand both perspectives. Even in my writing, I often find myself editing sentences to make them less confrontational.
Just this past week, readers criticized me for doing exactly that in my column about simulated pregnancy. Their criticism made me think, and then this conference made me think even harder.
One conversation in particular stayed with me.
I sat beside a police officer and asked him how many officers he believed were genuinely well versed in the Constitution.
“Very few,” he answered.
That surprised me, although perhaps it shouldn’t have.
Ironically, much of my own constitutional education happened because my husband immigrated legally and studied for his United States citizenship test. As he prepared, I prepared alongside him.
Reading the Constitution as an adult was completely different than hearing about it as a teenager in high school. I honestly remember very little about how it was taught when I was growing up.
As adults, we understand what rights actually cost.
We understand what governments are capable of.
We understand how quickly emergencies become permanent policies.
Reading the Constitution with adult eyes changes the experience entirely—which raises a question that has nothing to do with guns.
How can we expect people to vote wisely if they don’t understand the document that defines the limits of government in the first place?
We ask citizens to choose candidates, evaluate legislation, and determine the future of a constitutional republic. Yet how many voters have actually read the Constitution recently? How many understand not simply what it says, but why it was written the way it was?
Benjamin Franklin famously described our system as “a republic, if you can keep it.”
Keeping it requires more than voting.
It requires understanding what we’re voting to preserve.
There is something remarkably clean about a principle that isn’t constantly being negotiated.
Gun Owners of America has spent 50 years saying essentially the same thing: the Second Amendment means what it says, and it should not be infringed. Not a little. Not temporarily. Not when it’s politically convenient. Their members don’t celebrate gun control light. They don’t negotiate away one right today, hoping to protect another tomorrow.
Whether someone agrees with that position or not, there is an undeniable clarity to it.
Perhaps that’s why the movement has seen so much success.
Thirty years ago, constitutional carry existed in only one state. Today, 31 states recognize constitutional carry. That didn’t happen because people slowly negotiated their way to the middle. It happened because thousands of activists refused to abandon the principle they believed the Constitution already guaranteed.
I often think about freedom as a one-way street. Governments grow. Rights shrink. Regulations accumulate. History feels like a slow march toward giving away just a little more liberty every year.
This weekend challenged that assumption.
Maybe freedoms can be reclaimed.
Maybe they can expand.
Maybe dedicated people working together over decades really can reverse the trend.
Another moment that stayed with me was the recognition of the generations carrying the organization forward. GOA honored longtime President Tim Macy, who has stepped back after decades of leadership, while his son, Kailey Macy, now serves as executive director. It was a reminder that preserving liberty isn’t a one-generation project. Someone has to be willing to pass the torch.
Then they played a video that perfectly captured the organization’s philosophy. It was a compilation spanning more than 25 years of Tim Macy’s television appearances. One after another, the clips rolled across the screen. CNN. Piers Morgan. Megyn Kelly. Tucker Carlson. Different networks. Different interviewers. Different political moments.
The questions changed, but his answer never really did.
The interviewer would point to the latest tragedy, the latest mass shooting, the latest political crisis, and ask some version of the same question: “Surely there should be some compromise?”
His answer, every single time, was no.
Not because he lacked compassion for the victims. Not because he was unwilling to engage. But because he believed constitutional rights are either rights or permissions granted by the government. Once you begin negotiating away a constitutional right in response to emotion or public pressure, you’ve changed the relationship between the citizen and the Constitution.
The ballroom erupted in applause and laughter as clip after clip showed him refusing to move, refusing to soften his position, refusing to let the conversation be reframed.
Watching 25 years of interviews compressed into a few minutes, I realized that consistency itself is powerful. Whether you agree with his position or not, there is something compelling about someone who knows exactly where they stand and is willing to stand there for decades.
That lesson was reinforced again during a tribute to Sam Paredes, who passed away last year after spending more than four decades defending the Second Amendment. Rather than simply listing his accomplishments, GOA played a compilation of interviews, speeches, and moments from throughout his life.
His own words told the story. Decade after decade, his convictions remained remarkably consistent. It was a reminder that movements aren’t built by one election cycle. They’re built by people willing to dedicate an entire lifetime to standing for an idea.
I left Iowa grateful.
Grateful to have spent the weekend with people who have dedicated their lives to preserving what they believe are constitutional freedoms.
Grateful for the reminder that principles sometimes require clarity more than compromise.
And grateful that my children are growing up in a country where there are still Americans willing to spend 50 years defending rights they believe belong to the people, not the government.
The conference didn’t convince me that compromise is always wrong.
There are countless places in life where compromise is not only wise but necessary. Marriage requires it. Parenting requires it. Friendship requires it. Business requires it.
But it did leave me wondering whether there are some principles that should never be negotiated.
Because if we don’t know where we stand, and if we aren’t willing to stand there when it’s unpopular, someone else will decide where we stand for us. By the time they do, we’ll likely discover their convictions were never ours to begin with.
