Last Wednesday, I woke to discover a protest was taking place at noon in the capital of my state, as it was in the capital of every state. A decentralized grassroots movement had come together to hit-the-streets and decry the authoritarian actions of Donald Trump and Elon Musk. I don’t usually make last minute decisions, but decided I had to put my feet where my words are and rapidly adjust my plans. My husband and daughter agreed to join me; a friend two-hours away would meet us at the capital.
As fast as we could, we crafted signs, filling the front room with acrid scents of paint and Sharpie marker, and got on the road in time to find easy parking. About a block from the house, I asked my husband when he last attended a protest. His answer: about sixty years ago, when he was a kid protesting the Vietnam War.
Though some had raised concerns about who was encouraging last week’s protests and whether violence would be aimed at protesters, the vibes were positive and buoying amid a tremendously heavy time. Fortunately, many Americans are finding their voice and finding ways to democratically oppose an administration that behaves cruelly, openly flouts institutions and laws bed-rocking our democracy, and expresses expansionist fever dreams.
On our drive to the capital, rain fell. But when we arrived, the sun shone on a colorful crowd of one-to-two thousand people, holding a brilliant array of signs representing myriad concerns. People were respectful, smiling, and jubilant to support one another and groups under increasing threat.
No matter what the media reports or what people around the world think of us, Americans are getting engaged. The phones at legislators’ offices are jammed with calls from concerned constituents. Lisa Murkowski of Alaska says that in the last week, calls to her office multiplied times forty. And this is happening across the country. Last Wednesday, every U.S. state had capital-building protests—and the rallies will continue.
This past week I heard Judge Nancy Gertner of State Democracy Defenders answer the question of ‘what should people do’ by encouraging active engagement:
…[P]eople should get into the streets. People should call their congressmen and their senators to basically light a fire under the legislature. Cause that was a check on government power. They should care that he is impounding funds that they allocated. So, yeah, people should do all … the stuff that you tell people in civics classes: call your legislature, call your congressman. And I think that people have to demonstrate, I think that lawyers have to align themselves with the organizations that are doing the resistance.
I also see other actions taking place. Among people I know, many are rethinking their relationships with social media companies and ceding less attention and power to the Silicon-valley oligarchs supporting an autocratic takeover of the country. People are choosing their news sources more judiciously. They are finding ways to better care for themselves, recognizing that the journey we are on is long; we must stay well. People are finding new ways to connect with supportive community.
It is easy to feel powerless at a time like this, but we are not powerless. We do, however, need to work thoughtfully as a collective.
On Inauguration/MLK Day 2025, I joined some family members to participate in an organized walk through part of my town. It occasioned a poem I include below. My encouragement to you, readers: If you are concerned about what’s happening, it is time to get out in the street. Even if you’ve never done so before. Even if it’s been sixty years since you last did so. We can take a lesson from South Korea and other citizens of democracies who cared enough for their countries to get out and get uncomfortable as they voiced opposition.
Inauguration/MLK Day, 2025 “When we no longer know which way to go, we have begun our real journey.” —Wendell Berry On the day he takes the throne, we walk through our town with queer youth—generations bundled in fleece and snow hats, 100 walkers, setting down stones for a tower of persistence. Not resistance. No, that was the first time, when larger crowds— jubilant in indignation and affinity, donned pink pussy hats and chanted and drummed. A new era, this time, and we are measured, aware invisible corms are, in winter, storing the sugars plants need to endure. Greeting family members as I go to leave, sweet it is, knowing we are together and out of harm’s way; but back of mind, the fears. Together, we snap a selfie and hug goodbye.
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Wren, winner of a 2022 Independent Publishers Award Bronze Medal
Winner of the 2022 Independent Publisher Awards Bronze Medal for Regional Fiction; Finalist for the 2022 National Indie Excellence Awards. (2021) Paperback publication of Wren , a novel. “Insightful novel tackles questions of parenthood, marriage, and friendship with finesse and empathy … with striking descriptions of Oregon topography.” —Kirkus Reviews (2018) Audiobook publication of Wren.
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