Editor’s Note: This story by Matt Alley was originally published in BlueCollarWriter Labor Media here.
I support the No Kings protests. Let me be clear about that from the outset, because nuance has a way of getting flattened in times like these. I believe in showing up. I believe in people taking to the streets, raising their voices, and reminding those in power that this country does not belong to any one person, party, or ideology. It belongs to all of us.
And for anyone asking what “No Kings” is really about—it’s not just a slogan, and it’s not just about one individual.
It’s about rejecting the growing idea that power should be concentrated in one person, one office, or one movement that demands loyalty over truth. It’s about pushing back against the erosion of democratic norms, the attacks on institutions, the dehumanizing rhetoric that turns neighbors into enemies, and the dangerous drift toward rule by force, fear, or personality.
It’s about saying, clearly and without apology: we don’t do kings here.
Because when democracy starts to bend toward authoritarianism—when cruelty is normalized, when dissent is punished, when truth becomes optional—that’s not just a political crisis. That’s a threat to our shared humanity.
That’s what this moment feels like for a lot of people. Not abstract. Not theoretical. Real.
So yes—show up.
Find your local No Kings protest and be there. Stand shoulder to shoulder with people who still believe in democracy, in shared power, in the basic truth that we are stronger together than we are divided. There is strength in numbers. There is power in being visible. There is something real in looking around and realizing you are not alone in what you believe.
You can find events here: https://www.nokings.org
Don’t overthink it. Don’t sit this one out. We need bodies in the streets. We need voices raised. We need that unmistakable signal sent loud and clear.
And I mean it when I say—you need to be there.
But I’d be lying if I said that’s where my feelings end.
Because alongside that full-throated support is a quieter, more uneasy truth that I can’t ignore: part of me wonders what happens the next day.
We’ve all seen this before. A date gets circled. Energy builds. People show up. The streets fill. The message is loud, unified, undeniable. And then, more often than not, we go home. Back to work. Back to obligations. Back to the routines that keep the machine running.
Meanwhile, the system we protested? It keeps moving.
That’s the tension I can’t shake.
Not because protests don’t matter—they absolutely do. They are often the spark. They are how people find each other. They are how movements become visible to the broader public. They remind those in power that they are being watched.
But history is brutally clear about one thing: change doesn’t come from a single day of being loud. It comes from sustained pressure.
It comes from organizing in ways that don’t fit neatly into a single afternoon.
It comes from boycotts that force corporations to pay attention.
It comes from strikes that disrupt business as usual.
It comes from building networks, coalitions, and movements that don’t dissolve when the signs get packed up and the chants fade out.
That’s where my mixed emotions live.
Because I understand—deeply—why people need to do something right now. I feel it too. The frustration. The urgency. The sense that sitting back isn’t an option. People are searching for a way to push back, to be part of something bigger than themselves.
And showing up is part of that.
It matters.
But it cannot be the whole story.
The labor movement didn’t win rights because people protested once and called it a day. Civil rights weren’t secured because of a single march. Those victories were carved out through sustained, relentless pressure—through people who refused to let the moment pass, who turned a day of protest into a long-term commitment.
That’s the difference between a moment and a movement.
So yes, I support No Kings. I support the people who will show up, who will raise their voices, who will refuse to accept something that feels fundamentally wrong.
You should be one of them.
You need to be one of them.
But when it’s over—when the crowds thin and the signs come down—that’s when the real work begins.
Because one day of protest can send a message.
Sustained pressure is what forces change.
And if No Kings becomes more than a moment—if it becomes a starting point for organizing, for collective action that doesn’t end when the streets clear—then it won’t just matter.
It will be necessary.
Some photos from No Kings protests, March 28, 2026:
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