No Faux King Way...

There are moments in life where you see the split very clearly as it happens. The before and the what comes after.

Fourteen years ago my sister-in-law called me to tell me the paramedics were with Dad and it didn't look good. Not even five minutes later she called me back to let me know he was gone. The me before the call had a father. The me after the call did not. It was a clear line.

We had gone through it just a few years early with Brent's father. His mother called and I answered the phone. She told me Jack was gone. Right at that moment Brent was taking a shower with no idea of what had happened and I was going to change his life.

Clear lines of the before to the after.

Ten years ago Trump came down that escalator and announced he was running for president. At the time we had no idea it was a clear line of before to after. No one really thought he had a chance. Not right then. It was a joke. He was a joke. Thinking anyone would vote for him was ridiculous.

My first real warning was when a friend of mine, a liberal friend, said he was going to vote for him. He was in finance in New York and was tired of being the villain in the story. The housing crisis, the banking crisis, he felt people like him were being unfairly blamed for everything. And he honestly believed that the things Trump was saying was all just bluster. That he wasn't a racist or a misogynist. That he was a New Yorker and the rest of the country just didn't understand how they spoke. They were vile to everyone so they didn't really hate anyone.

A few months into the first Trump presidency he reached out to me to let me know that I was right. Trump really was that vile. And he didn't vote for him again. But by then we (as in the we the people) had already crossed that before to after line. And even with the four year Biden breather we never really crossed back.

Saturday we went to one of the many No Kings protests. We had a plethora to choose from in our area. Originally Brent and I were planning on going to big one in downtown Portland, but one of the people we were going with suggested going to the one in Beaverton instead. They didn't really like crowds that large.

I thought that was a great idea. You all know how I feel about crowds as well. I was going to deal with it and just rely on Brent being my backup, but this way I didn't have to. And getting there and back was going to be easier as well. And Brent was a little more confident he wouldn't need bail money if we went to the Beaverton one. I still didn't wear earrings (to easy to get ripped out in a fight) or mascara (tear gas and pepper spray cling to it) but it was more to be in good habit than actual concern about safety.

I took a few pictures while we there but none of them really captured the size of the crowd so I'm not going to post them. But it was a large group. We didn't wander into the main area because it was just solid packed with people so we couldn't really hear the speeches, just the crowd responses (cheers and chants of NO KINGS!) but we weren't there for that. We had other reasons that really weren't around speeches.

I wrote a few months ago about going to a town hall with one of our representatives and how the crowd felt like sitting in a ball of anger and fear. That it was just one spark away from blowing up. People wanted someplace to put all of those feelings. A direction to be aimed in.

The 50501 protests, the #TeslaTakedown protests, those have all been a place to put those feelings. To show that we do not agree. We do not comply.

The crowd on Saturday was angry. They wouldn't have been there if they weren't angry. Like I wrote about with my ankle and my weight, you have to hate where you are more than you hate the idea of change to actually go through the process to change. Brent and I have disagreed with plenty of government policies in the past, I've written about it (whatever the it might be at the time), I've helped people find the words they wanted to use to speak out about it, we've donated to organizations fighting against or for it as the case may be, but this time we protested. On the street. Count us in the crowd. We are angry enough, we hate it enough, that we want to really show up and show out. (we would have been on the street earlier if I wasn't still recovering from my ankle procedure)

But even though the crowd was angry, clearly or they wouldn't be there, it didn't feel the same way that town hall felt. It didn't feel like a mass of fearful people who had no idea where to put that energy. Community is hard to come by in the modern world, but that's what it was. A community coming together for a cause. Or causes.

Lots of different signs with people's main concerns on them. Some with "Not Enough Cardboard to List Everything" signs as well. And a lot of American flags. Which made me happy to see. I have never liked that the Right has co-opted the flag. And they have so drastically that I can pretty much guarantee I won't like someone just by seeing that they are displaying a flag from their truck or their clothes or their yard. It's not 100%, but it's been true more often than not.

And that sucks. It's our flag. All of us. I'd like to see it flown by people who aren't assholes.

So I was glad to see a LOT of flags out. It's supposed to be a symbol of our country. Of freedom. Of No Kings since 1776. The Left needs to take it back and try and cleanse the authoritarian stink out of it.

We were there to be counted. I talked to strangers. (after that, the soccer match on Sunday, and a repairman this morning I'm all peopled out!) We cheered for cars honking in support of the crowds holding signs lining the street.

I always say that the reason I write is to let you know you aren't alone in what you are thinking. That's why I was there on Saturday as well. To show others that they aren't alone. And to show myself that we aren't alone either.

No Faux King Way.