Senator Blunt Rochester’s full remarks can be viewed here.
Washington, DC – U.S. Senator Lisa Blunt Rochester (D-Del.) today delivered remarks on the Senate floor to mark the five-year anniversary of the insurrection at the U.S. Capitol on January 6, 2021. Then a member of the U.S. House of Representatives, Senator Blunt Rochester was present that day and trapped in the House Gallery during the attack.
Below are Senator Blunt Rochester’s remarks, as delivered:
Mr. President, today is January 6, 2026. We are six days into what will surely be a defining year for our nation. We’ll celebrate the 250th anniversary of the founding of our country. We’ll hold midterm elections. Americans will determine the control of Congress. But while there’s much to look forward to—on this cold, winter night—I find myself transported back five years ago: to January 6th, 2021.
Over the last five years, a lot has been shared about the events of that day. It has been distorted, romanticized, and even downplayed. But as they say in the play, Hamilton: It matters who lives, who dies, who tells your story.
For me, a lot has changed since 2021. Five years ago, I didn’t carry the title I proudly carry today. No, not Senator, although I’m proud—but Grandmother.
So today, Mr. President, I rise here on the Senate floor to tell my story. Not just for the history books, but for my granddaughter, Lennox—and all of the young people of this country.
It’s a story of sorrow, fear, and loss. Love, hate, and betrayal. But it’s also a story of redemption, bravery, and resilience.
On January 6th, I was a Member of the House of Representatives. Joe Biden had just been elected, and Kamala Harris was about to become the first woman, and first person of color, to serve as our Vice President. I was ready to watch history.
Because we were in the midst of a once-in-a-lifetime pandemic, only a few Members [from] the states contesting the election results could be on the House floor. The rest of us were able to sign up for one-hour shifts in the House gallery.
I remember it like it was yesterday. I remember choosing my outfit the night before and taking two pairs of boots with me to work. I ended up wearing the more comfortable ones, not knowing I’d soon be running, ducking, or crawling on hands-and-knees for safety. I remember signing up for the first shift to watch from the gallery. There was never a second shift.
Not long into the proceedings, I saw the leadership, and my colleagues, being whisked off the House Floor. An announcement was made that the Capitol had been breached. I sat—stunned—and as they were taken to safety, I realized they forgot about us, trapped up in the gallery.
We could hear the sounds of yelling and banging on the Chamber doors. We ducked for cover and were instructed to get the gas masks out from under our seats—gas masks we didn’t even know existed! That we did not know how to open them or use.
I remember my friend, former Congresswoman Val Demings of Florida, grabbing my arm. She locked eyes with me and said “Lisa, there is only One who can get us out of this.” And I began to pray.
People say that right before you die, your life flashes before your eyes. In that moment, I saw history flash before mine. I saw the peaks and valleys of our American story. I saw slavery, reconstruction, and Jim Crow. I saw a Trail of Tears. Women linking arms marching for the right to vote. Two World Wars. 9/11. The murder of George Floyd and a global pandemic.
I saw the history of our nation and the path we had traveled to get us to this moment. And I prayed. I recalled a piece of scripture that tells us: “All things work together for the good.” Even the bad. Because, despite the violence, despite the trauma, despite how close we were to losing our democracy, brave men and women stood up to protect this institution—and we will never, ever, ever forget them.
And we, the Congress, came back in the wee hours of the morning to do our jobs, to certify the results of a free and fair election. It was a moment of redemption. And redemption is part of what makes America, America.
Because whenever we falter, there are “shoulders to the till” who push us forward. Who remind us of the values upon which our nation was founded, so that we can “come back stronger.”
I find myself thinking about those foundational values a lot these days. And a specific phrase from the Preamble has risen above the rest: That we are to “Secure the Blessings of Liberty to ourselves and our Posterity.”
The founders used the common phrasing of the time. Where churches spoke of bestowing the blessings of knowledge or faith—we, the United States, would bestow the “Blessings of Liberty.” And not just for ourselves. But for our posterity—for future generations. For our children and our children’s children. For my granddaughter, Lennox.
But “Securing the Blessings of Liberty” isn’t just a promise—it’s a call to action. Because while liberty is a blessing, it requires work to maintain. Work that we’ve strayed away from many times in our history. And five years after January 6th, we’re faltering once again.
From efforts to dismantle the Department of Education and the EPA, to the weaponization of the Department of Justice, to active efforts to strip birthright citizenship, the federal government is losing its ability to protect “many” of the Blessings of Liberty we have come to expect as Americans.
But this isn’t new. We’ve seen this before. In the late 1800s, formerly enslaved people gained new rights—many Americans did. The 13th, 14th, and 15th Amendments enumerated these rights. But without enforcement, they became “no more than ink on paper.”
I believe we are repeating history. That there are some more focused on tearing down than building up.
But here’s the thing: You can tear down the East Wing of the White House—
Put your name on buildings—
Or try to tear down this very Capitol Building itself—like was done five years ago—but our democracy is built on more than just brick and marble.
Ours is a democracy built on the values of liberty and justice for all.
On the premise of freedom.
On the ideals of equality and independence and on our pioneering spirit of innovation.
Ours is a story of redemption. This very room I’m standing in is a testament to our system of governance. A room built by enslaved people—where Lennox’s grandmother now has the privilege to serve as a duly elected Senator.
When our democracy expands, when it breathes, we inch closer to those divinely inspired ideals of our founding documents—And to truly securing the “Blessings of Liberty.”
This is the story of America I want to pass on to my granddaughter. A story of courage and of “Bright Hope” for a democracy that endures. But again, progress is not inevitable. It’s a choice, and it requires effort.
In 2025, we let the aisle between our parties stretch to a chasm. But it’s a new year. It’s a new day. And we must come together to choose progress.
To move forward. To protect our democracy. And patch the holes in our republic, punctured by the few, to spite the many.
As I close, I stand here today as a Senator with gratitude to those who protected us—and even gave their lives—on that day. And I stand here as Lennox’s grandmother with words of wisdom from the late great Justice Thurgood Marshall, who said: “This is your democracy. Make it. Protect it. Pass it on.”
To our posterity—
To Lennox—
To the Pages in this room—
To the interns in our office—
To the young people inspired to save the world who work on our staff—
And to each and every young person in our nation—I would add two more words to Justice Marshall’s quote.
This democracy is yours. Make it your own. Because this democracy belongs to you, too. So, make it your own, protect it like we did on January 6th, and pass it on.
Thank you, I yield back.
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Senator Lisa Blunt Rochester represents Delaware in the United States Senate where she serves on the Committees on Banking, Housing, and Urban Affairs; Commerce, Science, and Transportation; Environment and Public Works; and Health, Education, Labor, and Pensions.