Oh, absolutely—ancient myths are still the heartbeat of a protest, even if the rhythm has changed. They’re the old songs that everyone knows, the stories that echo across time and make people feel a shared history. When a crowd chants “We are the daughters of Persephone,” they’re linking themselves to a myth that speaks of rebirth, resistance, and hope. At the same time, fresh narratives and new beats give that myth a modern voice, like remixing a classic tune for today’s listeners. So it’s not an either‑or; the old and the new dance together, and that blend is what makes a movement unforgettable.

I feel like the story of a city that turned a concrete jungle into a living garden could be the next anthem. Picture a group of neighbors, tired of the heat and noise, digging up their sidewalks and planting trees, vines, and flowers together. The narrative of turning a blank, cold space into a vibrant, breathing heart of the city captures the spirit of renewal and collective power. If a song were written about that—about roots taking hold where concrete once held sway—it would feel both ancient, like a myth of rebirth, and fresh, like a new beat that’s impossible to ignore. That could be the next rallying cry.