A Love Letter to America Written in Cardboard and Marker
The story of the resistance told in its signs.
Outside of the White House on January 30, 1917, a lone woman stands—posture perfect, jaw squared. Sparse banks of snow litter the background.
Dressed in furs and a cape, she holds a banner. It reads, “Mr. President, how long must women wait for liberty?”
Alison Turnbull Hopkins, a suffragette and one of the Silent Sentinels. They were trailblazers, the first to picket in front of the White House. Quietly, they stood, a reflection of President Woodrow Wilson’s own silence on the matter of suffrage. They were badasses in petticoats.
Where there have been protests, there have been signs. The match workers carried banners in 1871, protesting the half-penny tax proposed to Parliament. Labor demonstrations from the the eighteenth century, among the first in the US, featured banners emblazoned with phrases such as, “8 hours labor. 8 hours recreation. 8 hours rest.” And in 1517, when Martin Luther nailed his 95 Thesis to the door of Castle Church, he posted a protest sign of sorts.
The dissenters of today are carrying on a time-honored tradition of enshrining their grievances and ideals in ink, tape, glue, and paper. Whether made at home or together, the signs of the resistance capture the spirit of the movement.
They range from witty to earnest. Such as one sign spotted in Carlsbad, CA in March. It features Trump, his comb over caught by a fortuitous breeze. It reads, “We shall overcomb.”
Another from Raleigh, NC on February 17, depicts a grinning Trump superimposed on an oil painting of, I believe, Marie Antoinette or another royal of the era. “Oligarchy is so 1790.”
Naturally, regions put their own spin on their signage. On April 5, Elvis journeyed to one of his old haunts—Vegas. Dressed in white polyester, he held a simple sign. “America already has a King, baby.”
Then there are the earnest or cautionary signs. One I failed to photograph, yet I still remember, depicted a hand reaching skyward amidst a sea of blue water. It read, “Less staff means less safety.” You can catch a glimpse of it in this image by the Las Vegas Sun.
This protest, held on March 1, was organized by the Resistance Rangers. About 100 gathered that day at Lake Mead National Recreation area. Annually, this park welcomes over 7 million visitors, making it the fifth most visited park in the nation. However, a reduction to staff poses a danger as heat stroke, exposure, and watercraft accidents are common. This sign serves as a warning.
At “die ins” at New York and Salt Lake, signs have shone a light on the impact policy has on people. On March 15, dozens upon dozens laid on their backs, holding cardboard tombstones. A whitewashed stone read “Froze. No heating assistance.” Another featured a skull—the words “Social security cuts killed me” in black.
And then there the signs that interrupt the status quo—human signs, sidewalk art, and overpass banners. These are meant to deliver the resistance to our doorsteps, to remind us that this is not normal.
Our signs are our love letter to America—well, to one another, actually. Whether on a soda boxes still scarred by the cans or poster board from the dollar store, every sign communicates a journey, a hope, a fear. They voice our support of each other. They shout, “I see you. I care.” They remind us that we are not alone.
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At the very first protest, I read the signs and thought, “We’ve got this.” I saw later that the right was saying we were being paid because of our sparse crowds and uninspired signs. Fake news! We are many and wise with words.
Adam Schiff addressed the Senate floor today, May 14, illuminating some top 10 Trump corruption creations. So excellent. Pass it along! https://youtu.be/000yxkGXSVM?si=jiygTZFNlmIfLW5P
PROTECT JOURNALISTS, PROTECT TRUTH!