Not Today, Satan

(We all know who I'm talking about.)

I don’t have a lot to say that hasn’t already been said, probably much more eloquently, but I protested on Saturday. And it had been a while. (Since the last time the orange felon was in office.) And I thought I didn’t miss it. I thought I was happy not to have to take to the streets with a homemade sign and to be free to live my life without interference—just like everyone else is entitled to.

But I was wrong.

I did miss it! The instant comerardie. The warmth and joy of being with people who share the same basic (human) values and understand that it’s our responsibility to lift others up, not tear them down. To lean in, not pull back. To welcome, not shame. And, as someone who gets itchy in crowds, that’s saying a lot. But, I wasn’t a person in a crowd, I was one drop of humanity in a sea of tranquility—people talking, laughing, holding up their signs. Kindness permeated the crowd of people lining the suburban Chicago streets while cars, trucks, and semis honked in support.

I was instantly with friends who welcomed me into the circle of democracy lovers. Like most of the attendees, part of me still found it astounding that as a United States citizen in 2025, I have no choice but to protest the policies—and the clear tendencies—of an authoritarian criminal and fascist dictator-wannabe who is taking a seam ripper to the fabric of our democracy.

It felt surreal and heartbreaking, but also incredibly profound. And, most importantly, it felt powerful. I know my role isn’t over. My sign sits at the ready for the next protest, but I’ll say with pride for the rest of my life that I took part in the largest single-day protest in all of American history!