Each To Our Own, Together

Before the last, nationwide No Kings day, I shared that I would be bringing my Lego. For the next one (this coming Saturday, October 18th), I’ve made a different plan, but—just like last time—it takes into account who I am at a cellular level. 

Am I a big chanter? Nope. As I’ve said before, rhythm is not a strength of mine. And on the rare occasion I do sync up with others, my sense of autonomy sounds the alarm, my deep mistrust of mob mentality kicks in, and I have to drop out of the chant. So for the most part, I’m that person in the crowd who silently bobs my sign up and down. 

Do I like a sign? Oh yes! The chance to compose in advance…and in complete silence? The opportunity to make art from poster board, magic markers, duct tape, and a pickleball paddle?¹ Strategy-wise, I’ve moved from wry quips to patriotic no-brainers—e.g. “Due Process is the American Way”—but yes: I love everything about protest signs. 

Do I like a song? I love a song! I can’t hold a tune, but as long as there are plenty of other voices in the mix, I never let this get in my way. “Catherine sings with…great enthusiasm,” wrote my preschool teacher (the ellipses are mine but we all know she was thinking them)—and this remains the case. I think the experience of singing with a crowd is nothing short of sublime, and for whatever reason (maybe because I know where the lyrics are going?), none of my chant-related hangups get in the way. Listen to the good people of Oxbow Commons singing “This Land Is Your Land” back in June. More of this, right???

Might I dance? I sure might! So many reasons: 
1) Protests are long, and dancing is fun; 
2) Nothing punctures the ugly myth of violent protesters quite like a line dance. (Watch at least as far as “Slide to the left…slide to the right. Crisscross!”; and 
3) From a performance perspective, I have already hit rock bottom out of love for my kid.² Of course I’d do the same for my country. 

So, what is my plan for Saturday? I’ll be protesting in the morning and early afternoon. In the late afternoon, at the invitation of one of my fellow mediators³, I’ll be attending a roundtable, “Trans In the Time of Anxiety.” It’s a public event, but the publicizing of it has been low-key, largely (I’m guessing?) for safety reasons. If you are local to me and would like to join, please send me an email. 

Anyway, enough about me. What about you? If you’re planning to join a No Kings event this Saturday, where will you be, and what will you be doing? How do you feel about chanting?

Thanks for reading,
Kate 

¹Trust me. I love the game, but this is the highest, best use of a pickleball paddle. Especially if you live in a windy spot, the traditional paint-stirring stick is simply not up to the task. 

²I no longer use Facebook, but I’ve left all my old posts up. Mainly, this protects me from imposters—but it also shows I didn’t leave out of sheer embarrassment. It really was that last freakin’ straw. 

³Subscribers to this newsletter who do not know me in real life continue to read my new side hustle, “mediation,” as “meditation” and send me jokey messages along the lines of, “It doesn’t seem to be taking. You’re still super high strung.” So going forward, I’ll try to start referring to mediation by its other name: dispute resolution. That said, this is no reason to stop the gentle teasing. I am super high strung, and the idea of me (!) meditating (!)—for six minutes let alone six hours—is objectively hysterical.