As much as I put on a positive face, I was depressed by the relentless assaults on civil rights, the environment, the economy. It left me feeling powerless and disconnected. I started losing my agency to fight back. In short, I was aligning myself in the direction that the Trump regime wanted me to go.
As I was driving back from central New York State a few months ago on a cold, drizzly Sunday afternoon in September, I drove under an overpass where demonstrators were waving flags and banners that spoke out against these attacks. I honked my horn in support, which was met by cheers from above. Five miles later, there was another overpass with even more people. Giant banners were hung from the railings. Their support helped me realize that my attention had been on the actions of a regime of destruction instead of on the people like those on the bridge.
The “bridge people” reminded me that many are standing up and saying, “No!” to the Trump administration and “Yes!” to working together to stop it. Their action invited me to join them. I felt stronger standing up to the bullying.
My change in attitude attracted opportunities. I was hanging out with the playwright and director, Court Dorsey, and his partner, Debbie. We were talking about his upcoming play, “Swamped.” It’s about characters who struggle to connect over what really matters despite their differences. We discussed how the play’s theme fit in perfectly with “No Kings Day.” What if we had a dinner between the rallies and the play? It would be a way for people to discuss the day before going to the play. I volunteered to organize the event.
I got to work outlining the tasks and assigning responsibility. I reached out to people I barely knew or didn’t know at all. It became an exercise in connection.
On No Kings Day I met up with friends from my old neighborhood and walked down to the rally at the Greenfield Energy Park. Two thousand people (who really knows?) marched to the town common. The town had blocked off the main intersection to traffic. There was a brass band, a Statue of Liberty on stilts, and outrageous protest signs. Some of my favorites: “Fight truth decay.” “So bad, even introverts are here.” “I’ve seen smarter cabinets at IKEA.” I carried my “Resist” sign. It was a festive mood, counteracting Trump’s claim that the No Kings rallies would be very small and ineffective. We were, at seven million people strong, the largest protest in U.S. history against a sitting president.
Afterward, I rushed off to Wendell to join in the work of converting an empty, cold hall into a festive, celebratory dining room. I turned up the heat, and soon we were setting up tables and chairs and decorating with a harvest theme, complete with autumn plastic tablecloths, little gourds, and fallen autumn leaves. Annie from Diemand Farm catered an incredibly delicious meal of white vegetarian lasagna, turkey and gravy, cranberry salad, butternut squash, and an apple crisp to die for.
It was a tableau of 47 enthusiastic people sharing the happenings of the day. We talked about the signs, the speakers, and the happenings of the day. “It felt so reassuring to be standing up with people from our neighborhood.” “Everyone was so kind.”
“Welcome, everyone. I’m so glad you could make it and share your day. How many of you attended a rally today?” Everyone raised their hand. “For me, there is nothing more important than connecting the way we have today.” Loud applause. Then back to eating and talking. It was all I could do to get people to the theater on time.
But there is a voice in my head saying, “That’s a nice warm fuzzy but that won’t stop ICE from raiding people’s home, or curb inflation or stop the cuts to health care and human services, or … But that voice, is missing the second part, “making these connections is the springboard for all the activity needed to stop them.”
I have agency. When I help individuals or organizations in my work, I have a deeper sense of purpose. I listen with intent and speak with confidence that I will be heard. Living in the Valley seems more like home than ever before. And beyond the Valley, I sense we’re gaining momentum, our resistance growing in size and commitment. Driven by kindness and respect, we’re creating the foundation for a cooperative world. Let’s keep the effort growing. Power on!
Kiffer Sikes lives in Northfield. He founded Common Capital, a nonprofit community loan fund which finances small businesses, nonprofits and community projects.