If you’ve ever visited Cascades National Park in Washington, you’ve likely driven through, and promptly forgotten, the town of Concrete. If you remembered the town, it will have been because of the hulking concrete silos standing watch over Highway 20. In faded red, the words “Welcome to Concrete” greet millions of adventure-seekers as they drive onward in search of mountain lakes and stunning views.
This town of 700 is red, a light red, but red none the less, which is why I was surprised when on May 1, a photograph of eight protestors surfaced on my Threads feed. There in front of the dormant silos, stood a handful of dissenters. They held cardboard signs. One read, “Billionaires pay less taxes than your barista.”
Northward, in Alaska, amid a terrain of melting snow stood a crowd of fifty-four. Against a backdrop of mountain crowned white, they chant. One person calls “86.” The other fifty-three answer, “47.”
They harken from Talkeetna—population 997. North of Anchorage, the town is the jumping off point for climbers looking to tackle Denali. It too is conservative. Despite that, five-percent of the town protested on May Day.
In my voice mailbox, another report awaited me. Dee from Jackson County, North Carolina shared her story. As part of writing this publication, I researched the county she hails from and promptly added it to my bucket list.
Picture vistas of blue peaks shrouded in green trees stretching onward into infinity. And in the fall . . . a sunset-hued wonderland.
Dee is a precinct captain in the heart of this “very rural and very red” county. “We decided we wanted to have a protest in the center of town.”
In the day’s leading up to the protest, people called, sharing that they’d not be able to attend. When she set out on Thursday morning, she expected perhaps five people. “Much to my surprise and delight, there were already many many people there.”
Throughout the two hours they gathered, people continued to arrive. “We got up to about 22 people, which was a great success in my mind.”
Listen to her story.
Across the country, in Boulder, Colorado, Ellen attended a protest with a handful of dissenters living in an assisted living facility. A group of eight of them stood on a grassy embankment near the road. Each held a black pasteboard with white letters reading, “Hands Off.”
To her, the most inspiring pair were a husband and wife. Assisted by a walker, the couple waved an upside down flag. “This couple cared enough about our country as elders to come out. . . they came out and they waved and cars honked and I feel like we’re trying to save our country.”
This is what democracy looks like.
It’s protests of 30,000 marching in metropolises. It’s Costco refusing to rescind its DEI policy. However, it is also a septuagenarian waving a flag along a highway or protest in a rural town.
The latter requires a different kind of bravery—an “in spite of” courage.
It’s the kind of courage my daughter displayed. One Saturday, I overheard her friend share that she was upset by a group of fifth-grade boys. They frequently picked on her.
My daughter, a third-grade Tinker Bell look-alike with the heart of a dragon, was not having it. “I can go tell them to stop.”
“Nah,” her friend replied. “It’s OK.”
“I will if you want me to. No one should treat you like that.”
In the end, they rode bikes instead, but that day, she demonstrated “in spite of” courage. In spite of her size, her age, and the numbers, she was willing to stand. And though this mama would have stood at the window ready to pounce had she confronted them, she was willing to go toe-to-toe in defense of a friend— “in spite of” courage.
The media applauds those who speak truth to power, yet overlooks those who speak truth to their neighbor. Every act of dissent requires bravery, yet taking a stand without a litany of lawyers behind you is another kind of risk.
When you live paycheck-to-paycheck or when your business depends on the relationship you’ve formed in a small rural town, boldly protesting along the main highway in full view of your neighbors is bold—in spite of all you cannot afford to lose, you stand.
This country will not be saved by representatives on the Congress floor, but by conversations had in parks and on street corners. It will be those who speak truth to their neighbors who will conquer the hate that set the stage for this administration.
Today, let’s honor the thousands who legacy media will never acknowledge. In spite of it all, they stood, and we stand with them.
Every protest deserves to be counted, and every story deserves to be told.
Record your protest.
View the count.
I am building and audio and visual diary of the resistance. Send photographs, videos, and stories to me. You can also pick up your phone and tells a story, describe a protest sign, or capture audio from a demonstration. Call and leave a message at 925-217-7880.
Next nationwide days of action—June 6 and 14.
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I'm in what's said to be the bluest county in the bluest state. Yet in Cody, WY, (pop.10,000), there were about 75 of us in front of the courthouse with our signs. We did get some supportive honks, which was so heartening!
June 6th is so far away after May 1-3. I’m disappointed there’s nothing yet sooner. I’ll keep looking! Maybe we’ll have more suffering the effects of the Orange menace by then and increase numbers, but I’m worried momentum will slow. I’ve got plenty of pics and audio/video to send you as we’ve been to six protests, so hope you’re ready! Thanks so much for your help with organizing and documenting! Maybe you can publish a book about the Resistance movement winning afterwards!