No Kings is an objectively silly name. Outside of very specific revolutionary situations it sounds goofy, a name for a porn production company or a casino slot machine. Googling either option makes me nervous, so instead I’ll talk about the recent No Kings protests, organized ostensibly in opposition to Donald Trump’s perceived efforts to, if not become king, then at least act like one.
From his side of things, Trump recently insisted that he ‘doesn’t feel like a king’ because he has to ‘go through hell to get stuff approved.’ Readers are encouraged to keep in mind the frequency and vehemence with which conservatives jumped on the phrase, ‘I (do/don’t) feel like a…’ over the past several years. If I’ve learned anything from writing on this site, it’s that there’s no point pointing out peoples’ hypocrites, so let’s chalk up this phrase’s sudden acceptability to its not involving a young person’s sexuality.
To the big important question: Is Trump a king? No, clearly not.
Is he on the path to kingdom? Seems unlikely to me, but what do I know?
To suss this out I planned to attend Saturday’s No Kings protest march. That morning, a gunman shot several lawmakers in Minnesota. Assumedly one purpose of this was to make people afraid of participating in these protests. From my side of things, it worked. I try to avoid placing myself in positions where I may become dead. I say this for all the obvious reasons, but will add that I have no interest in becoming a martyr, and I certainly don’t want to become one for any cause even remotely related to Donald Trump.
Staying home felt a lot like letting the idiots win, and as they’ve had enough victories lately I went out and found a No Kings protest in Port Orchard, WA. Located a gull’s flight due west of Seattle, the town has about 18,000 residents, approximately 38% of whom voted for Trump last election.
The protest was held at the intersection of two main roads just south of downtown. Protestors stood on all four corners of the intersection and waved flags and brandished signs and yelled and chanted and generally did your stereotypical protesty things. The mood was festive, fraternal and upbeat. Passing cars honked in support.
True to the city’s demographics, most people were white and older, though some children and teens had been dragged along. There was a surprising number of queer folks about as well as a sizable representation of veterans (Port Orchard is directly across the waters from Bremerton, the site a US naval base). The only negativities came from the occasional anti-protestor who drove by in flurry of incomprehensible curses.
Let us ponder a question I sincerely doubt any anti-protestors asked themselves: If you protest a No Kings march, does that make you Pro Kings? Readers looking to stretch their minds even wider might try imagining what these Pro Kings protestors looked like. If you thought of an angry young white man in a truck, you win today’s Prize in Perspicacity.
After a few minutes of watching the protest I realized I was sad, for there we were: using our lives to protest things we shouldn’t ever have to protest. It’s amazing to consider all the energy and resources involved in Saturday’s events: over 2,000+ protests nationwide, an absurd military parade in Washington DC, and the seemingly endless stream of news coverages, internet memes and social media tirades. I don’t know how to calculate the totality of resources that went into the day’s events, but I do know a couple things: first, those resources are finite. They’re gone now and they won’t come back. Second, if we as a country put even 1/100th of those resources into — insert any social cause you’d like right here — the world would be a better place.
As mentioned above, I believe protests like these are important. Peacefully exercising your rights as a citizen in opposition to actions you find reprehensible is an essential component of a functioning democracy. I’m not sure if the pronoun We can still stand upright in this country, but I’d hope we could all agree with that statement. What’s sad wasn’t simply the resources expended, but the fact that the protests were essential. Sadder still the fact that we’ve elected legislators whose aspirations can be distilled into Hurt many, Help fewer, for it’s only Trump’s stupidest supporters—which should be an oxymoron but somehow isn’t—who have the gall to suggest his proposals, rhetoric and actions are anything other than harmful.
My mood wasn’t jiving with the protest so I decided to go home. On the way I came across a rather serious accident: a firetruck blocked traffic, behind it a smashed red pickup truck rested perpendicular to the road, a gray SUV had driven through a nearby church’s fence, and a dazed looking man wearing a neck brace sat on the curb.
I nosed my way around things with minimal rubbernecking, but as I looked in my rear view I realized rubbernecking was exactly what I’d been doing at the protest. The only difference was I’d been watching from before the crash occurred instead of after.