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Thoughts Following A Recent Overpass Protest [1]
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Date: 2025-06-06
It was raining steadily, but light enough that my rain gear kept me reasonably dry. The vehicles passing below seemed to have a rhythm as we watched them from the interstate overpass. There were cars spaced evenly in stretches and then clusters of them. There were occasional gaps in the traffic, which gave us time to relax and converse.
We noticed a tractor-trailer approaching from the north. We agreed that truck drivers tend to be more Republican than not. But these are strange times and it’s impossible to stick to norms. As it rapidly approached the overpass it became clear that the tractor-trailer was carrying a load of lumber. When we waved our signs, the driver honked back and flashed his (or her) lights with clear enthusiasm. We were pleasantly surprised.
“It’s the tariffs,” someone commented.
I stood on an overpass on a recent Friday for about 1 ½ hours after work. I helped zip-tie banners to the metal railings facing both the north and south sides. The messages read “No Kings” and “BribeForce 1.” I also held a sign that said “History Will Remember the Cowards That Kept Quiet and Let This Go On.” I waved it with genuine passion. How tragic that we are at this point.
This protest had been put together by our local Indivisible chapter. It is based in a small, Vermont town and members come from there and nearby communities in a primarily rural area. It was organized in coordination with other Indivisible chapters and activist organizations from Hartford, Connecticut all the way to St. Johnsbury, Vermont. It covered a couple dozen overpasses over Interstate 91 with banners and signs at the start of the Memorial Day weekend in order to maximize visibility to traffic. This was an expansion on the April 25, three-state overpass protests against (t)Rump’s assault on democracy that was organized by a coalition of Western Massachusetts organizations.
It had been a cool and rainy May and the forecast was for more of the same that day. I didn’t care. I’d brought my best rain jacket and a little soaking was a small price to pay. For democracy. It’s certainly more tolerable than having a firehose aimed at you. Or vicious dogs chewing on your pantlegs. Or tear gas and rubber bullets lobbed and shot into your midst. Not that I’m naïve enough to think such times may not be coming for protesters.
The overpass is on a road I’d never been to before, but it was easy to find. It runs off a main, north-south route that courses just to the west of the Connecticut River border between Vermont and New Hampshire. It’s a dead-end road that leads only to a quarry. As a result, I had wondered about any of the traffic directly passing by us. Whether we might get some negative responses. Or worse. After all, it is a fairly isolated spot and anger is just pervasive these days. We have to be aware of the potential violence that is being encouraged by the current regime and that a large percentage of the population is fine with it. The stochastic terrorism. The unimaginable stuff we thought would never happen here but read about when we were growing up. The stuff that happened in places like Nazi Germany. The stuff that has happened to various groups throughout our history (POC, indigenous people, etc.) and has now been ramped up against the far-right’s “other” of the moment (trans individuals, immigrant populations).
As I turned onto the road and drove a short way, I saw that a gate had been pulled across the path, denying vehicular traffic past that point. There were already three other cars there and one of our chapter members walked up to me before I parked and said it hadn’t been expected that the gate would be shut. However, she said it was only a short walk to the overpass. Meanwhile the gray skies continued to tease of more rain but, thankfully, only offered misty precipitation at that point.
In past years I wouldn’t have blinked at such a short walk but I’m currently having lower back/hip issues and walking has become painful on occasions. As a former runner, endurance athlete and backpacker, this is difficult for me to admit and face. It contributes to my increased sense of vulnerability.
Vulnerability. I’m feeling that more these days—in terms of my age, how our protesting might progress as and the very harsh reality of how (t)Rump’s assault on democracy is directly affecting me and everyone I know. The country where I’ve lived for 66 years is virtually unrecognizable, though I do know that it’s a place all too familiar to so many groups that have always experienced discrimination at this level. Yes, MAGAs—I am proudly WOKE!
I’d hoped to retire in a couple of years but now wonder if Social Security will even be there by then or if OUR money will have been stolen by the sociopathic oligarchs currently in-power. I’ll be required to sign up for Medicare as well and it is now targeted for major cuts. Even with that coverage, most all are forced to pay through the teeth (it doesn’t cover dental, of course) for supplemental coverage. If Medicare is privatized, just imagine the profits for Big Insurance and Big Pharma and others in the .01% . As for affordable housing…….forget that too.
My partner and I worry about our rights and being relegated to second-class citizens. Or worse. Any of our discussions about travel exclude going to red states for fear of increased and sanctioned discrimination. Not to mention that we don’t feel like giving business to areas that supported (t)Rump. The scenario runs through my head of one of us needing to be hospitalized in a place like North Carolina and the other not being considered a close family member or allowed to visit.
“Gay marriage? That doesn’t exist here! No, you can’t see him in the ICU! Sinner!”
Hell, we even question whether we’ll be able to take any more trips to Canada without being harassed or even detained at the border coming back into the states.
“I see that you regularly visit that radical, left-wing site, Daily Kos. Are you a threat to the security of the United States? And why don’t you show proper respect for our beloved President in your posts?”
I think about Mohsen Mahdawi, who lives just a dozen miles up the road, being grabbed, without due process, by black-masked ICE agents and put in jail for engaging in free speech. I can see the day coming when (t)Rump’s Proud Boy type-thugs begin knocking on, then breaking down, the doors of protesters, journalists, teachers, union activists, college professors and anyone else who even hint at opposition to the regime. I wonder if we’ll reach that point. Part of me even whispers it’s not a question of if…but when. Or that it is already happening. We are aware of people in the neighborhood who are clearly unfriendly or display certain bumper sticker on their pick-ups. If the worst came to pass in our town, would they casually point us out to marauding black-shirt types?
These thoughts milled through my head as I made my way to the interstate overpass with five other souls. All are committed to doing all they can to fight for democracy, the rule of law, basic civil and human rights, our environment, and much more. As we hung the banners I remembered back over my years of activism—from marching against Reagan’s Central American policies in the late 1980’s, to opposition to the unfair trade policies of the WTO in Seattle, George W. Bush’s war against Iraq (never did find those WMD’s) to standing with a sign on a cold winter day and protesting (t)Rump’s first-term separation of children from their parents with his heartless detentions and deportations.
I remember turning around on a Seattle steet and seen a line of Robo-cops aiming tear gas shotguns in my direction. I recall noticing a bright red dot of light wandering across a crowd of activists on a dark night across the during a totally peaceful WTO protest march. I’ve held signs and shouted slogans during marches or standing on overpasses, written dozens of letters-to-the editor and op-eds, attended local government meetings and spoken out, called my elected officials on a regular basis. I’ve door-knocked, phone-banked and written a few thousand letters or postcards in support of GOTV or for specific candidates. I recall a speech from a politician who noted that we have no right to be discouraged if we don’t get results in our lifetime because that has been the case throughout history and we owe it to future generations to engage in the struggles for what is right.
What I have not done is engage in any acts of civil disobedience yet. I’ve not been entirely engulfed in tear gas, been pepper-sprayed or zip-tied and thrown in the back of a van. I’ve always had a fear of being arrested and restrained in any way. I partly regret it knowing that others have had no choice in our history and have faced fire hoses, aggressive dogs being encouraged by unfriendly police, tear gas and rubber bullets. I admire those brave people, such as those in the Selma marches and as a white male am inspired by the strength of their convictions and spirit. Yes, we do owe it to them to fight as hard as they did.
But at age 66 and after decades of activism, I’m wishing that I was younger and didn’t have arthritis and didn’t have to be in pain standing in one spot for an hour holding a sign. I’m visualizing those next steps that I’ve somehow managed to avoid as the realization sweeps over me repeatedly that we are at a pivotal point and that all is at stake. Our rights to vote. The ability to love and marry who you choose. Basic civil rights that millions fought, suffered and died for throughout our history, the clean air we breath and water we drink, going to a school where the emphasis is on learning and not brainwashing or avoiding gunfire, the striving for human decency and a common good and basic needs provided such as health care and affordable housing.
I’ve done dozens of these honk and wave type protests in my lifetime, but only a few overpass protests. The first were in Seattle back in 2004 when a group of us stood on a pedestrian overpass waving signs opposing the Iraq War. We did this for an hour every Saturday morning for two months. We thought that we couldn’t ever have a President, in our lifetime, worse than George W. Bush. Little did we know.
And yet here we were with someone far worse, as I was thinking on that recent Friday holding another sign of resistance on an overpass. We passed the time by talking about upcoming protests, including the nationwide June 14 ones that will be held on the same day as (t)Rump’s ego parade in D.C. We also counted the numbers of positive versus negative responses displayed by passing traffic. The flashing headlights and honking of car horns clearly indicated support, but under the cloudy skies and then intermittent, light rain, hand gestures within vehicles were less clear. Sometimes we checked in with each other to reach a verdict or just indecision:
“Was that a friendly wave or a middle finger?”
“No…it wasn’t a middle finger but a thumbs-up….I think.”
“Clearly an enthusiastic wave!”
“Wow. We got middle fingers with both hands from that one!”
Yes, “History will remember the cowards….” I thought to myself.
I’ve found that I do tend to obsessively count at these honk and wave-type events. Try to get a sense of public support. An informal poll. Not a scientific method and wrought with flaws, my method. Still, while counting for about half of the time standing there I arrived at a total of 207 positives and just 17 negatives. I also noted little items of interest that reflect these times, such as that we received positive responses from all five tractor-trailers with loads of lumber that passed. I know that I probably couldn’t see many of the negative responses from occupants of vehicles, but my count was still encouraging overall. It’s much easier to count at the street level protests where you can see the faces of those driving by and can perceive common, negative and physically threatening responses by a handful. I think of young, white males in pick-ups who very deliberately speed up or “roll coal” and sometimes belt out “Trump!”from open windows. They drive their vehicles as if they’re weapons and the message is clear.
So I try to stay focused on the vast majority that honk or wave or give a thumbs-up. We all need that positive reinforcement, if only for a short while. We all need to remember that we are still the majority even as there is a daily onslaught of awful news from a regime that has zero regard for democracy, basic decency or a common good.
If only those overwhelmingly positive numbers reflected the reality here and elsewhere in the country. The regime would not stand a chance for much longer. But any faith I had in the American voter and the country in general has been shattered by the steady progression towards authoritarianism in my lifetime and then the 2024 re-election of the most onerous person that you could ever imagine in a Grade B, dystopian Hollywood flick.
At 5 p.m., one member of our group said that she needed to leave. Then another. We’d put in the time we committed to for this day and so all decided to pack it in. We wondered how many other overpasses were covered in Connecticut, Massachusetts and Vermont. How close to Canada did they get? There was an underlying sense of reluctance to depart, especially as when we untied the banners, more cars passed underneath and gave honks. You want to bask in those moments of hope and solidarity. You want them to sustain you through the next day, the following week, the long months going forward and fighting during a time of relentless assault on our spirits.
As we walked back to our cars I thought of the people in vehicles who expressed their support as they headed home from work, delivered loads in their tractor-trailers, or were off to long weekend destinations. Would any of them be holding signs at a future protest? Calling their legislators or writing letters to the editor? Attending town halls to express their concern over what is going on under the (t)Rump regime? Would any of them go to one of the nationwide events scheduled for June 14 and help us reach the goal of getting 3.5% of the nation’s population out in the streets in nonviolent protest? That is what a study showed almost always leads to regime changes. If that is achieved, will it truly be a catalyst to altering direction and the end of an increasingly authoritarian regime or will this period in U.S. history be one of the rare outliers? A sad and tragic example of “American exceptionalism?”
Do people realize that honking horns in support of protesters is just not enough anymore? That more people need to commit to prioritizing the fight to save our democracy? That counting on the next election to turn things around will not suffice, especially as voting rights are under threat as well and that those in-power will not hesitate to cancel our elections or undermine the process to such a degree as to turn the U.S. into Putin’s Russia?
I also thought about those that didn’t respond at all. Maybe they just didn’t notice us and were too focused on safe driving. After all, there was a light rain and some periods of vehicular congestion. It’s hard to tell from any overpass, but I thought of other, recent honk and wave protests where so many passed by and were just staring straight ahead--often with blank or indifferent expressions. Were they among the far too many non-voters who have contributed to democracy’s demise in the U.S.? Have they no clue as to how bad things have gotten? Are millions just like the frog in the pot of water on a stove, with the heat gradually being raised? Like the Germans who looked away and just went about their daily business as if they’d never be hurt?
Driving back home by myself, under the gloomy skies, those harsh realities crept back into my consciousness and the depression I’ve felt periodically since last November sought to take hold. I tried to focus my thoughts on the next action, the next protest being organized, and girding myself for the long fight ahead. I reminded myself that, just as so many others throughout history, I feel I have no choice. But I’m grateful that I can recognize this in myself and that I’m not one to just stare blankly ahead or use bad weather as an excuse.
One of the worst effects of (t)Rump being re-elected, for me personally, was that it triggered the longest, most soul-deadening period of writer’s block of my life. Words have not felt adequate to address the daily chaos and destruction by this regime and its supporters and enablers. While I did manage to emerge from the months-long funk in terms of getting very active again, the writing hasn’t caught up with my passion to fight. This piece is my first attempt to break that spell.
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