A few nights ago I had a dream that turned into a nightmare. I was in a posh hotel, with tall plants and black and white checkered tile. But right away I didn’t feel safe, and when I saw the pinched, done-up face of a female hotel staff with a long blown-out, I knew she was out to get me. And because she was staff, I wasn’t sure if I could trust anyone and didn’t know how to ask for help: afraid of impending violence, with no one to tell.
I rounded a corner and spotted a few other staff members congregated in a backroom. I could tell they were more attentive, more customer service oriented from their facial expressions—they seemed like they wanted to do a good job, both in service of the guests, and because keeping their job depended on it. But it still felt inherently unsafe, and I kept moving. Back in my own room, I blockaded the door with a large chair, but I knew it was just an illusion of safety, one hard push away from the door being forced open by someone who held all the keys. Andy was there and he had been approached by a male hotel staff member who leaned in close to his ear and told him more explicitly that we were in danger.
I woke up both distressed and relieved.
As I wrote my morning pages I turned the dream over in my mind, trying to decide what it meant to me, and I landed on a simple metaphor. The hotel was the current-day United States, and I was trapped in it, surrounded by hotel staff with all-access keycards, including to my room. One or two staff members have it out for me, the rest either aren’t paying attention or are bumbling around trying to do the right thing — politicians. People who we thought worked for us but somehow run the place. People with good access and bad intentions. What to do?
Many people know me first and foremost as an activist. I’ve had a long-ish career in various nonprofits, and everything since my very first post-college job in a litigation firm in San Francisco has been cause-oriented (thank goodness for that job, it showed me corporate America early on and I knew it wasn’t for me!). But I consider myself mostly a “quiet activist” and am more compelled by creative pushes of useful information on websites and platforms, information that changes people’s reality and empowers them with paths to autonomy and well-being and connection, instead of picking up a megaphone to yell about how angry I am at the opposition and getting people to yell demands with me. The past few years of astrology and palm readings have confirmed this: that I have information to share, and it needs to be me who shares it, but it also needs to come from an honest and authentic place when I do. Both quiet and loud activism play a role, but not every activist has to be both, and there’s a spectrum of activism in between.
This is why, when my mom invited me to join her at the local No Kings rally in June, I had to take a beat and sit with the request. At first, no part of my body wanted to go. I heard the phrase “No Kings” as indignant and childlike, a futile statement of protest with bottom lip out and arms crossed. It didn’t feel effective, I couldn’t tell what was the point. The new administration is pointing a pressure-washer at old structures, with experimental policies and unprecedented executive orders that even the smartest experts are finding very few levers to point to, levers that can be collectively pulled in order to rebalance power the way we have so far generally agreed democracy is meant to work.
“I have no one else to go with,” my mother told me. I thought some more and decided two things: 1. I’d like to see what this local community looks like when they show up for protest, and 2. I will wear an abortion access shirt and hand out stickers to make it feel actionable. What does “no kings” mean under impending authoritarianism? It means building alternate pathways to care, safety, community that don’t rely on old systems of government. It means recognizing where we still have control, zooming in on local needs and mastering information architectures off and online while we learn more about where to apply pressure, and also see which of the lawyers and politicians can get it together to hold those in power accountable.
The protest was fine. Signage, solidarity, horns honking 6 feet from my ears. Mine was the only abortion sign, and I realized in a predominantly Latine area maybe it wasn’t welcomed by all the progressives there, but I was okay with holding it down anyway. To each their own, and my role is educator. Most of the signage was understandably about immigration, as were the speeches, and I was grateful to hear their messages: reminders of our shared migration history, of who does paid labor, of how undocumented folks and immigrants are more than just laborers. Touching in on our larger sense of humanity. I could see the value of the protest for people who were newer to showing up to things like this, or trying not to feel alone in their existential dread.
In the days that followed I was glad to have gone — no kings, and no regrets — but I was still experiencing some cognitive dissonance about how that particular type of action was a solution to any of the large-scale shenanigans we were witnessing. This type of tidy protest felt like a small showing of disagreement, not right-sized to a regime based on removing rights, oppressing dissent, and actively unfollowing the rules of engagement.
As my mind crunched in the background on this dissonance, I came across a social media post that gave me some answers. It was a thoughtful critique of 50501, the decentralized entity that called for this protest, made by weighing the action against tenets of historically successful protest. These are the notes I took as I processed the post.
According to @theconsciouscitizens debrief, every successful protest movement has six core pillars:
Clear, non-negotiable demands. Abolish ICE. Dismantle mass surveillance. Not vague meaningless statements like ‘protect democracy’ or ‘end corruption.’
Escalating pressure. Boycotts, sit-ins, strikes, road blockages. Not marches and demonstrations that allow for business as usual.
Non-cooperations. Planning the protest without necessarily gaining police approval. Not policing behavior of others during a protest, requiring permits or prioritizing working with cops to keep the peace.
Narrative control. Humanize the issues, communicate demands. NOT being overly concerned with how something will “look” in the media.
Safety & security. Encouraging masks and coverings, having PPE and first aid on site. Not discouraging masks, asking for RSVPs, telling protesters to sit down in front of cops.
Long-term support infrastructure. Power-building with mutual aid groups, skills share, next steps. Not leaving protesters hanging, leading them back to the same old Dems party.
They closed with a few points. Don’t be fooled by organizations that care more about civility than liberation was one of them. Again not an accusation, but a measuring stick, which feels historically correct. I also read recently that marches during the civil rights era were an act of publicizing a cause or rallying support while traveling TO DO an action, like a sit-in. Marches were not an end in themselves.
I try not to consume too much media that revolves around psychoanalyzing DT. Tired of it, can be salacious but usually not a great use of time. However, I have been struck by a few recent pieces that go into cult psychology and compare what’s happening today on the extreme right with what happens under a cult leader. Maybe you’ve seen these articles too. By contrast, what I find notable is that my own area of the politics & values spectrum does not have a singular leader to speak of. And because of this, I am required to draw my own conclusions and analyze what I think needs to happen next from a variety of viewpoints, hopefully becoming more thoughtful and discerning as a result. No single character is feeding me what I’m supposed to believe. This is also what is starting to fracture the right: because if that single character is changing their mind, shifting their stance, giving up on their conspiracy theory, it leaves audiences feeling duped and taken for a ride, and they lose trust (see: the recent Epstein twist). My theory is that because those of us who are trying to achieve a more liberatory world according to what would be considered more progressive values do not have a leader, we must be more analytical, require more substantiation, draw conclusions from multiple sources which is inherently a more solid way to land on the truth.
This is a theory. It’s also one that conveniently reaffirms my position on the more thoughtful, analytical side of the spectrum. How nice! All of us are still prone to hearing what we want to hear, sliding in to the same old news sources over and over telling us the version of the story that aligns with our existing worldview. Me stumbling upon the analysis of the protest feeds my justification for questioning it. I don’t think protests are bad, maybe they’re what this stage of the situation requires before we move on to more organization. It’s important for people to be able to plug in to learning, solidarity and action in ways that feel comfortable, energized, empowered. I don’t want to shame or talk anyone out of showing up: protests demonstrate numbers, volume, and these hundreds of thousands or millions are made up of individuals. Protests share messages. But protests without follow-up actions require a closer look. I want to see strategy, or else we will march and meme-sign our way into the most unfortunate next chapter of the history books.
In the absence of leadership, I’m gravitating toward the people in my immediate reality who seem to be processing deeply, feeling as well as thinking and re-thinking, questioning not only the other side but their own, and sharing what can be done about it to move us forward. I am listening for those clear non-negotiable demands and wondering who else needs to hear them besides a person’s social media followers. I am seeking to understand where and when people might escalate pressure. I am interested in better narrative control, because of how successful it’s been on the other side.
Imagination, visioning and storytelling is part of the reason I was so drawn to our sci-fi concept band: at that point after doing 15+ years of nonprofit work I had so rarely been in spaces where people were ideating about the world we wanted to see: it was always a game of whack-a-mole, putting out fires and solving problems directly in front of us. Sure we had mission and vision statements: a world free from slavery. A near future where every musician can make a living with dignity. A country where body autonomy is inherent and people’s reproductive needs are met.
But we didn’t often paint this in color: what would this truly look like? Who would build it? How would it sustain? And this takes real leadership—sometimes a group, but more often a visionary needs to pick up the brush, and give that world dimension. But also infuse it with energy, excitement, sell us on it. Get us so fired up we can’t think about anything else. And THAT has to come from a well of deep belief. At least if we want to follow a leader who is in integrity.
I took my first self-defense classes this week. It’s for women and femme folks, based on Brazilian Jiu-Jitsu technique. It begins with de-escalation, demonstrating boundaries, then moving through all sorts of tactics based on body leverage and technique and not relying on sheer strength. The goal is not to fight, but to diffuse the conflict and find your way back to safety. It’s a decent metaphor for where we’re at. I hear some people are checking out of this USA Hotel, but I’m determined to figure out how I can extend my stay as long as possible.
Backing/music track: original, Modal Cobalt8 Synth + moog bass. Playing around on our new rig in the living room this weekend.