First, the most important part of this piece is at the end. Go there now.
Second, last weekend at Powderhorn Park in Minneapolis, I attended the protest/memorial for Renee Good who was murdered by the United States government in Minneapolis.
It was my third time protesting in my 48 years, my third also within the last eight months. It was the first time I made a sign, although in truth, all I did was think of a couple slogans (friends made them), one of which was “Pie for Chonker NOT Divide and Conquer.” It had a hastily drawn picture of a fat cat, with “chonk” being the slang these days for an adorably plump animal, usually a pet (a plumper). The sign might have missed the mark.
I thought it conveyed what seems like the main point of all this chaos, which is to turn Americans against each other, to keep us choosing teams in a contest framed as a black and white, right or left, win or lose situation, fanning that endless us versus them mentality that reduces everything in this country to some sort of competition (does it feel like winning yet?).
But the practical effect: casting cities as lands of lawlessness that must be brought to heel (while a president and everyone in his orbit get rich and we all stay under the thumb of the 1 percent). It’s of course a rehearsal, setting the stage for our next national elections when baseless claims of voter fraud will allow this administration to paint a picture, a stark landscape where we city folk can’t be trusted anymore, because look at us, standing up against a military style occupation of masked men in fatigues who are teargassing middle schools and breaking down doors without warrants.
The idea seems to be to escalate, escalate, escalate until regular citizens and ICE (which now outnumbers the entire Minneapolis police force by about 4 to 1) are fighting in the streets, everyone filming everything to get their team’s context-stripped soundbites and clips out so the masses can feel like we’re in this fight, too. But for some of us, it may feel like screaming soundlessly, pointlessly, endlessly into the black hole of our lord and savior, social media and the Great Algorithm in the sky. Even Jonathan Ross was filming with his personal cell phone before he dropped it to repeatedly shoot a young mother in the face. The Great Algorithm is insatiable and must be continuously fed to be usefully harnessed in the 2026 ad-campaigns that are already underway.
There’s something decidedly off here. ICE is at my local grocery store now, at my gym, at our restaurants, our schools, all while about half the undocumented immigrants in this country are in Florida, Texas, and California.
I don’t know what to do, and I know I’m not alone in this. So I salute the people doing more. Those on the streets, the whistleblowers and the observers. Keep it up. Keep it peaceful. I was at Powderhorn and I’ll be out again this weekend, but sometimes, I just want to keep my head down so I can someday retire, travel the country and continent and talk to people—the kind ones, the interesting ones, the wandering and weird ones. Other people deserve that opportunity too. Everyone has a story. I’d like to listen.
One story I’ve heard told again and again among so many refugees is the uprooting of families from war-torn or dangerous countries, stories of people who’ve left behind anything familiar to come to a foreign land where they hoped life could be better. It sounds like a tale I’d like to hear more often—a tale more American than most Americans.
When I wrote about my first two protests months ago, I wrote that I felt like it was time to get uncomfortable. Time has passed since then. Now… if you’re not uncomfortable, if you’re not actively getting uncomfortable, doing things to make yourself uncomfortable, or parting with amounts of money that truly make you uncomfortable to candidates or causes that will slow or stop this national discomfort—it’s time.
The only way to overcome this madness is to join with the people who are doing what brave people who have overcome madness have always done: Stand, shoulder to shoulder. Pick each other up until we’re all standing again. Because despite what our leaders may tell us to keep us all in their game, we’re all losing something here. Some of us will never get it back.
*The “pie for chonker” part of the sign point I was trying to make was that, isn’t it more fun to give snacks and treats to chubby pets than to turn people against each other so they’re distracted and easier to rule? But a friend said she thought I was talking about the “fat cats” in Washington. I always get scolded for giving too many snacks to pets that aren’t mine. I can’t help it.
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