Perspectives on No Kings Day in an American small town

As a participant in all of our local protests against the Trump administration’s unethical and immoral tactics (and organizer of the last two local No Kings demonstrations), my perspective of No Kings will seem biased to some. But that perspective has been heavily influenced by many courageous local folks who are members of two local grass-roots groups with overlapping social justice goals and principles.

My closest friend is one of many persons of good will and intention who belongs to both groups but who prefers to drive to Sandpoint’s demonstrations. She and many others I’ve spoken with tell me they feel safer in Sandpoint’s bigger crowds.

An hour before it started, an old friend from our Idaho Certified Family Home days stopped to talk with my husband and me. She said she regretted that she and her son who has developmental disabilities could not participate. “Never before has our democracy been in such danger,” she said, adding, “but all societies fail at some point. This one lasted 250 years.”

On Saturday, a Sandpoint gentleman said he wanted to attend ours before his own “because it takes extra courage for people here to demonstrate. Sandpoint’s a more liberal community.”

Although only 58 individuals joined our demonstration over the three hours on Saturday, many of those expressed anger or disappointment at the lack of notice for our No Kings. Most of them said the turnout would have been far greater had notices gone out sooner and been more widely shared. Several said that not publicizing the event locally does not prevent threatening actors from showing up.

Related to these comments, this was the first time that our local demonstration was counted among the 3,300 demonstrations across the world by Indivisible, the grass roots organizer of No Kings. Because local group leaders continue to ban the use of social media and local press notices of the event, though, our demonstration was not listed on the site map.

However, No Kings sent me a survey one hour into our event Saturday and another following the event, and they will notify me in advance of the next No Kings. I have taken three trainings myself to prepare for No Kings, and I urge anyone who is interested in training by Zoom or in person in Sandpoint to sign up at https://www.nokings.org/.

Whether in Sandpoint (during the first grass roots demonstration before No Kings) or here in Bonners Ferry, the goals and principles activists share have been clear from conversations I have had with other demonstrators. We who bundle against the cold winds and bear occasional insults, threats and taunts hurled at us from loud, smelly vehicles driving by have one goal. We stand on the Kootenai River Bridge every few months to exercise our American right to speak our sincere beliefs in word (handmade signs expressing opposition to administration acts) and deed (physically standing in solidarity with others who believe what we believe).

What follow are samples of words and deeds coming from participants in the March 28 No Kings on our bridge. “When that man just now gave me the finger, I blew him a kiss,” explained retired school counselor Laura Anderson. Inspired by her words to begin doing that myself, I found that her gesture not only demonstrated our love for neighbors who disagree with our principles; it was liberating for my spirit.

Dr. Marty and Teresa Becker brought a friend and two boxes of delicious, fresh Crispy Cream donuts to Saturday’s demonstration. That was at least their second participation, and each time both Beckers have expressed warm appreciation for other volunteers’ courage.

Two young women from Troy, Montana, arrived toward the end of the three-hour demonstration with two giant boxes of fancy, decorated donuts. They told me that they know “lots of people in Troy who support your (No Kings) protests but don’t feel comfortable coming here in person.” Despite her slim, trim healthy lifestyle, activist Rhea Verbanic selected a donut in obvious appreciation for the Troy women’s gesture of support.

A young woman stopped to share her unique perspective of our protest. She was visiting local residents and wanted to join in because she said this had been her hometown and she agreed with the principles expressed on our signs.

Corrie McNeill is an insurance company employee benefits specialist in Michigan who joined the protestors with her aunt Kathy Schnuerle, another task force member. Corrie, who has witnessed big-city demonstrations in Michigan, expressed genuine surprise and admiration for people in this small town participating in No Kings.

My neighbors, Dave and Sandy, stayed for the event, in spite of both of them battling serious health issues. Dave’s homemade sign spoke for the rest of us, too: “America is a Democratic Republic Not a Kingdom.” My favorite of the day’s signs, held by a friend of Boundary Human Rights Task Force members, pictured an elephant and donkey sitting on, and smashing, a crown with the words, “Together We Can.” Another active task force member held a sign with the same words in a different order as one made by Amy Brown, a member of the Boundary Democrats: “No Kings No Wars No ICE.”

An important takeaway of the kind of signs held Saturday was what task force activist Trish Johnson proclaimed as the outstanding effectiveness of the signs that bore the fewest words. Trish proved her point by displaying a small sign on brown cardboard with “Nobody Likes Bear Spray in the Face” in one hand and Amy’s bigger sign against white background in the other and asking me to view them from afar.

Opposition to the free speech of demonstrators amounted to the usual rude gestures and loud, smelly exhausts from a few vehicles. Sheriff’s Patrol Sergeant Greg Reynolds notified me after Saturday’s demonstration that they had received reports of two vehicles loudly blowing black smoke at us, and a city officer had ticketed the second car. I marveled at this visible demonstration of the vital difference between caring, professional local police officers of Boundary County and lawless, poorly trained ICE agents physically abusing and even killing noncriminal immigrants and peaceful volunteers in big cities.

There was a striking difference between Saturday’s anti-protest rudeness and those happening during our No Kings demonstration a year ago. On that occasion, in addition to many loud, smelly, black-smoking vehicles, a heavily armed group of men and women bearing US and Trump flags angrily marched down our line of demonstrators. They then crossed the street to the space under the US, Idaho and Canada flags past two demonstrators with a large banner stretched between them.

Although her banner just says “Tyrants Win When Good People Do Nothing,” one armed man rudely gestured two inches from octogenarian Jo Len Everhart’s eyes and yelled, F— YOU!” Without blinking, Jo Len smiled in her sweet way and said, “God loves you.”

When five of us from a local church demonstrated last month in support of a march on Washington by over a thousand clergy and lay leaders, a man verbally abused us. Following Jo Len’s lead, two of us told him of God’s love for him, but he screamed, “Don’t you dare bless me; God has blessed me all of my life.”

I felt sad that while for a moment we seemed close to communicating, such a wide gap still remained between us. But I like to hope a dialogue had begun that day. As is true for many other local activists, dialogue is my ultimate goal.

According to the grassroots organization Indivisible, on Saturday, March 28, there were over 3,300 protests held all over the United States, in some European cities and rural locations in places like Australia. In our country alone, it was the largest single-day nonviolent demonstration in modern American history. But around the world, eight million people joined with neighbors to magnify their objections to President Donald Trump’s words and actions.