Making Good Trouble
My experience at the April 5 Hands Off! Day of Action
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On Saturday, April 5, I joined millions of Americans in the time-honored and storied tradition of peaceful protest. It was my first, and I was nervous. In the days leading up to the Hands Off! National Day of Action, there were posts floating around online suggesting that attendees do everything from “have an escape plan” to “write your name, address, and important information in permanent marker on your body” before going. I found the warnings to be sobering, but remembered that protesting in the United States is not always a safe endeavor. I decided to wear tennis shoes and tell my family where I planned to be, but I kept my Sharpie-writing confined to my posters.
I chose to attend the protest in Sioux Falls, South Dakota, even though I live in Iowa. We’re in the Northwest corner of the state, far closer to South Dakota and Minnesota than we are to most of our fellow Iowans, and I’ve spent decades free-flowing through our little tri-state area. Besides, when you live in a small town and have a chance to visit the “big city” (yes, I write that ironically) you have to multi-task: I squeezed in a trip to Costco post-protest. You know, as one does.
My plan was to meet a friend for coffee before the festivities got underway, but roadwork delayed us both and I arrived alone, twenty minutes before the protest was scheduled to begin. However, the streets were already teeming with people, and finding a parking spot was no easy task. I ended up following a couple of cars into the parking lot of a Lutheran church downtown, and as we emerged, we all wondered aloud if we were okay to leave our cars even though there were signs warning us not to.
“I’m sure it’ll be fine! I think the pastor is one of the speakers,” an older lady declared, smiling as even more vehicles pulled in. And then, to me: “You’re not here alone are you?”
I explained that my friend was coming, but the lady and her husband weren’t about to let me take off on my own. “Just stick with us until she arrives,” she told me, and we walked together several blocks to the court house. Our solidarity was instant and our companionship sincere. These strangers were immediate friends, and we bonded in mere minutes with sad, knowing glances, appreciation of each other’s posters, and rueful shakes of our heads. “Can you believe what’s happening?” we said to each other. “It’s just… heartbreaking.”
As we rounded the corner to Phillips Ave., I think we were all shocked by the size of the crowd. I had expected maybe a couple hundred people, but there was already way more than that—and the event didn’t officially kick off for another fifteen minutes. I hesitate to say the mood was upbeat, but there was definitely a strong sense of purpose and affinity between everyone gathered. We greeted each other like old friends, took pictures of each other’s posters, and talked about what we were doing in our communities to mitigate the suffering of our immigrant, refugee, impoverished, and LGBTQ+ neighbors.
There were speakers, chants, and a native drumkeeper. A magnificent Black woman took our breath away with her a capella singing. And all throughout, protesters lined the streets with their posters and cars honked nonstop in support. If there were dissenters, I never saw them. When the crowd peacefully dispersed on time, people poured into local establishments for French fries, smashburgers, and locally brewed beer. I finally got that coffee.
There are countless opinion pieces on the efficacy (or lack thereof) and importance of the April 5 protests, and I have no desire to add my verdict here. I merely want to record my experience and share a few things I learned about my (very mild) foray into good trouble.
"Get in good trouble, necessary trouble, and help redeem the soul of America." -John Lewis
It was scary to do something new, but I’m so glad I did. I loved it. I’ll do it again—and bring more friends along for the ride if they’ll join me! Of course, I understand that political protest is not always as positive as my experience was. Vietnam War protests (begging for peace!) turned violent. And at the Civil Rights protests of the sixties (also deeply rooted in peace and a desire for justice), protestors often faced unprovoked attacks from those who resisted the movement—including police brutality and violence by segregationists. (You can learn more about Bloody Sunday, the Birmingham Protests, and the assassination of Martin Luther King Jr. by clicking the links.) Obviously, there are many, many more examples of people peacefully speaking truth to power who were viciously silenced, but I’ll let you research that history yourself. Suffice it to say, I know my presence at one rather sunny protest is equivalent to a toddler drowning in her dad’s suit, pretending to be the president of a Fortune 500 company. And yet, before I left for Sioux Falls on Saturday, I had to weigh the risks against what I believed to be the potential reward, and I decided that come what may, it was worth it for me to join the long tradition of political protest in the United States. I believe in free speech. I believe we don’t just have the right to protest, we have a moral obligation to stand up in the face of injustice. And I believe that the injustices we are seeing right now require action in whatever peaceful form is available to us. Protest is just one tool at our disposal.
No one was paid to be there. Quite the opposite: showing up cost us all something. Time, resources, our attention. Because I chose to be at the protest, I’m behind this week. I spent most of the day away from my family, paid for gas and food, and came home emotionally exhausted and unavailable. It’s insulting and ridiculous to hear Trump (and others) claim that we were paid actors who showed up for some cash. We absolutely were not. And as for crowd size, I’ve heard that the Sioux Falls crowd was anywhere from 500-2,000 strong. My friend and I tried to do a rough count at one point (grouping people into pods of 50ish), and I’d place the number of attendees much closer to 2,000.
The crowd was… not what I expected. From the moment I parked my car, it was abundantly clear that the people in attendance were primarily white and over the age of 40. In fact, there was significantly more gray hair in the crowd than any other color. But although the demographics skewed older, the variety of homemade protest signs indicated that their anger and frustration with the Trump administration went far beyond Medicare and Social Security. The grown-ups are paying attention, and they’re not happy. I would have loved to see more young people in the crowd, but then again, perhaps us “over-forties” have the time and resources to do things younger singles and families don’t. And maybe it is our responsibility to take the lead.
What’s everyone upset about? EVERYTHING! The (very colorful and creative) protest signs raged about everything from DOGE to veteran’s affairs to our national parks to Hegseth’s incompetence to Elon’s interference to tariffs to authoritarianism to women’s health… and on and on. The people are angry about it ALL. There were Canadian flags and Ukrainian flags and several American flags flown upside down (a symbol for distress or extreme emergency). There was room for everyone under the wide umbrella of anguish caused by the draconian tactics of the current administration.
It was a hopeful, hope-filled experience. I probably have very little in common with many of the people who showed up on Saturday. We have different backgrounds and belief systems, different priorities and things that keep us up at night. But we were unified in our longing for a return to sanity and kindness in our government, for more community and less division, for upholding the inherent worth and sanctity of all life, no matter a person’s legal status, skin color, sexual orientation, economic status, etc. etc. The experience was a breath of fresh air in the midst of what feels like a very dark time, and I’m so grateful I went.
Were you there? If there are more protests will you go? I honestly can’t recommend it highly enough. Call your senators and representatives, keep having conversations with friends and family, and if given the chance, I hope I’ll see you in the streets.
Thanks for reading. xoxo - Nicole
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Join me for a LIVE Zoom event next week!
This is for paid subscribers only, but it’s not too late to become one if you’d like to join us. I hope to see you face-to-face soon!
Hi, friends. I’ve been meaning to hold regular meet and greets via Zoom for my paid subscribers, but it’s been such a busy season I haven’t been able to pull it off! Anyway, I’d love for you to join me next week Thursday (April 17) at noon CST for an hour of conversation, Q&A, and sharing ideas about how to be good neighbors in this crazy, uncertain time. You can send me questions before Thursday (nicolebaart@gmail.com) or just show up and we’ll go wherever the dialogue takes us. Feel free to come and go as it works for your schedule. I’ll post the link early next week. I hope to see you soon!
Nicole, I read your entry with interest. Thanks for sharing it. There are many people who feel as you do. I have felt that way since my teens. Keep up the peaceful protest.
Thank you for sharing your experience. I love hearing from protest newbies! (I've been doing this stuff for decades, but things definitely feel different these days!) I can't help but think that love has to win over hate.