She was small, thin, elderly, and perhaps not in the best of health. And yet she was standing in a crush of people waiting to join the protest march. I was wearing my yellow day-glo traffic vest and feeling a bit like the maître d at a wildly overbooked restaurant: “Watch your step, thank you so much for coming, thank you for your patience, the line will start moving when the light changes … ,” while 3,000 people tried to merge onto a sidewalk. The day was warm, people were smiling, laughing, chatting, and carrying signs. A lively fife and drum band in tri-cornered hats jumped the queue, but no one seemed to mind.
People sometimes ask, what is the point of protesting? What good does it do? And my answer, not original but learned from veteran rights activists, is that we protest to not be alone in our fury and grief over watching our country being plundered by people who have neither empathy nor conscience; to show the people currently in power that we see what they are doing and we dissent, loudly, strongly, with humor and even joy; and to encourage others to join with us in the hard work of building a better and more democratic country. If you are feeling hopeless and wondering what you could possibly do that would make a difference, find your lane, whatever you care most about, find others who share your passion, and take an action, however small. It will be enough. And come to No Kings 4.
The woman moved slowly up to where I was standing and began talking, nearly in tears. I patted her arm and said, “We are going to win this,” and then she was hugging me, and I hugged her back, feeling how small and vulnerable she was. And then the crowd moved forward and we let go and I watched her take a deep, shuddering breath and continue marching.
Alison Jones
Los Osos
This article appears in April 9 – April 16, 2026.
