I spend my afternoons on a street corner
I was waiting for someone to tell me what to do. When one day there’s suddenly a king in charge instead of a president, what are you supposed to do, besides day drinking? I mean, we fought a whole goddamn revolution to not have a king. Everything was happening so fast.
I was definitely posting through the whole thing. On LinkedIn, mostly.
Some people told me to shut up about politics or well-actually’d me about actual facts. Some people noticeably abstained. LinkedIn quickly made it so you could filter out political content, as though work itself isn’t political. A consistent crew liked my posts and my comments, and I vaguely worried about my ongoing employability.
It was bold and it was useless.
At the same time, Democrats who had months to form a plan were manifesting a hilariously useless opposition. The pathetic faux-SOTU ping-pong paddle thing was still in the future, but inevitable. Faithful party members wanted to work with the system rather than pointing, urgently, at its collapse.
In late February 2025, legal permanent resident Mahmoud Khalil had yet to be disappeared to a notorious Louisiana detention facility, as though the First Amendment didn’t exist.
I was starting to feel deeply insane that I was considering not going on a work trip to Europe, lest I not be allowed back into the country.
And then one day I was just: “Who am I waiting for?”
To the corner
I picked the intersection because I could walk there, and because I knew it was annoyingly backed up at certain times. No grand strategy, just easy access and the hard-earned school pickup knowledge that lots of cars pass through at certain times of the day.
It took a few days to muster the posterboard, acrylic markers (turns out that normal Sharpies are wildly insufficient), and someone better at making signs than me. That same person warned me to take so many precautions and lectured me on how and when to leave a protest expeditiously. They told me to park my car so I could leave quickly without walking home.
The first day I showed up with my “No Nazis, No Kings” sign, I cried. Cars honked. People waved, raised their fists, gave me a thumbs-up, and cheered with their whole body. People shouted “QUEEEEEN!!!”
After weeks of doomscrolling, rage-posting, and sleepless nights: this felt like something to do.
A few days later, I might have had some wine. I decided to post under my real name on Facebook and Reddit. If anyone wanted, they could find my house and phone number and stuff.
Skepticism followed: “What are you even protesting?” (I’ll let you hazard a guess … ) “That’s private property, you know.” (It’s not, in fact!) “One person with a sign, seriously?” (It’s very powerful, actually.) “Get a life!”
That same day I had some Christo-fascists harassing me on X and posting my picture. I called the police non-emergency line and explained the concept of swatting, because that seemed relevant. An officer called me back and took my report. I let him know my son was home with me. Just, you know, so they knew.
A few days later, the response to my posts was different.
“I saw you out there.”
“I honked at you yesterday.”
“How can I join?”
Soon, someone new joined me at the corner, and helped “hold” the corner while I traveled for the weekend. Another read my posts and showed up looking for something to do that felt valuable. She said I looked “normal,” which gave her the confidence to be out there alone, too. A neighbor stopped me on my way to the corner and asked how they could join me.
On the corner, truckers blast their air horns. Mail carriers wave. School buses and UPS trucks honk, work trucks give thumbs up, and Tesla drivers make noises and gestures in regret and apology.
No men have shown up to join me yet, but they’re welcome.
Some people don’t like what I’m doing.
Sometimes they shout at me, sometimes they give me the finger. It must bring them sick joy to entertain the possibility that they could make me feel bad.
Sometimes they try to explain, in the middle of a left-hand turn, that tariffs are fine actually, if you just buy American [without any foreign raw materials or components of course].
No one has crashed yet.
Some yell “No they don’t, stupid!” when my sign says tariffs raise prices, and just like, good luck to you and your sketchy car from the early 2000s.
My framework
I’m not a pro at this. I’ve done approximately zero of this in public before now. I used to write headlines for a newspaper and I feel like that’s helped me write good and factual signs, but that’s about the extent of my qualifications.
You can find much better resources about safety when protesting, safety when protesting on street corners, and safety from police officers and internet strangers — all with a Google search or two. Still, these are some of the organized thoughts I’ve had about what I’m doing and what I’d like to do more broadly.
- Use signs that state the truth. Tariffs increase your prices or Trump = Chaos + Cruelty + Corruption. Keep it kid-safe — they’re reading the signs and asking their parents about them. Nazis are bad! is OK but maybe not very actionable. Fuck Trump probably isn’t a winning message. Be accessible, not alienating.
- Welcome engagement, even from Trump-lovers. Express solidarity with anyone who responds positively, with a fist bump or a wave or a thumbs-up. For the people flipping you off, shout “Thank you for the feedback!” or “I’m glad we agree on the freedom of speech!” or just “Have a great day!” Sometimes I just shrug and smile. The point of this type of protest is not to incite arguments.
- Activate others. Invite the people who cheer you on to participate in the future, and tell them to bring their kids! Spread the message of “You can do this too!” Enable new joiners with existing signs.
- Have a light footprint, and don’t impact the flow of traffic. If you’re protesting at a corner where traffic backs up a lot already, don’t make it back up more when people slow down to read your sign. Otherwise, someone might report you for creating traffic issues. Be ready to leave quickly. Clean up after yourself.
- Leave if you’re asked. Nearby neighbors might invite you to go somewhere else, or police might suggest it would be best if you went away. Focus on the battle, not the war, and remember: this isn’t defeat. “Leaving” can look like a lot of things. If you’re at an intersection that has sidewalks in both directions for a long distance, go for a walk with the sign you’re transporting from one place to another.
- Stay anonymous. People will take your picture, and they will be so very excited to do it. You might want to be wearing sunglasses and/or a baseball cap — bonus points if it’s a reference to a local institution. Be a soccer mom, a mom going on a run, a dad out for a jog, maybe with one of those running strollers. You might want to cover up an awesome but distinctive tattoo. I try to dress in super-boring clothing and bring a shirt to throw over whatever I’m wearing.
- Stay healthy. Street corner protesting, especially alone, can mean a lot of time in the sun. Drink lots of water and liberally apply sunblock in the summer — ask me how I know! Prepare yourself mentally for how you’ll shrug of the assholes and derive energy from your supporters.
- Find delight. My goal, my first time, was to spend 15 minutes at the intersection. Well within those 15 minutes, I was crying actual tears about the reaction. You’d be amazed how much you can connect with someone in a three-second interaction at 30mph. Engaged people are the goal, and every one of them is a victory. Celebrate it.
- Learn how to interact safely with police. Don’t be incendiary, don’t be rude, don’t be helpful, just shut the fuck up.
Feeling safe
I live in North Carolina so I have thought through the possibility that some people in my, uh, target audience have guns and may not like what I’m saying. The other day there was a loud bang when a truck backfired and my chest hurt for just a little bit for no good reason. If someone shot me I don’t think that would end well for them, at least here, so that’s comforting I suppose.
The intersection is generally unsafe at high-traffic times: Porsches floor it through a red light while some poor tiny Honda tries to turn left. Despite four crosswalks, approximately zero pedestrians seem to use the intersection. God bless the cyclists.
Thankfully, a street-corner protester in a blue region can choose a relatively safe corner that also has some shade (the kind under where a tree has grown). I don’t have a well-developed hypothesis yet, but corners with “no right on red” seem to be particularly advantageous.
The more interesting safety question for me has been how to feel safe with the people I’m sharing space with on the corner. I’ve spent a lot of time thinking about what I say and don’t say, what I ask and don’t ask, and how exactly to welcome probably wonderful people into my life without risk.
North Carolina is a purple state, and I’m in a blue county. If you’re in a redder location, this is probably scarier, but I’d like to encourage you to do it anyway. Messages like “Honk if you hate fascists” or “America fired its last king” are pretty hard to disagree with.
What changed & what’s next
I still feel pretty pessimistic about everything, and terrified for our First Amendment rights and the viability of the US Dollar as an ongoing concern while our government acts so unpredictably. I’m sleeping for shit.
I also feel a bit more hopeful. I know now that people feel how I felt — they’re just waiting for someone else to go first.
Someone on Reddit called my actions “preaching to the choir,” given the Democratic slant of the city. Someone else aptly pointed out that no one’s even showing up to choir practice right now.
I started alone, and now three people have joined at different times. Three more people decided to stop waiting and to stand on a corner and say “This is not OK.”
So, find your own street corner, metaphorically or otherwise, and join us? So many people are like I was, frustrated and clueless about what to do about it. Be the inspiration you’re looking for, and others will join.
Further reading
Some signs
