I spent a couple hours last night, and a couple more today, reviewing countless photos from the massive protests around the country on Friday.
Few people grasp the size, spread, and significance of these protests led by high school and college students. Legacy media can't adequately cover these events (even if they wanted to) so I'm going to give it a shot.
To see spontaneous and organic protests organized by young people is to behold collective joy. I've reviewed thousands of images and videos. You don't see a single student scrolling their phone. They are living in the present and exuberant. They link arms, hug, and support each other.
Some of the walkouts were organized by the senior class; other times by freshmen. These young people are forming their identities and have made the decision to become active subjects in the American story. They appear determined to turn a new chapter.
A few of the signs adopt familiar messaging from previous protests like NoKings. Other signs are direct communiques to the adults who are supposed to be protecting them.
One of the more popular signs read: "We're skipping our lessons today to teach you one." Another sign said, "My immigrant parents work harder than your president." Signs featured curses that aren't permitted at home or school.
I noticed the boys who climbed the highest light poles and edifices proudly waved Mexican flags. The physical liberation of their bodies against artificial constraints betrays their spiritual and moral development.
I pause on the images to reflect and zoom in on their expressions, homemade signs, and take in the camaraderie. These kids and young adults are making history and they're more aware of that than anyone else.
I'd prefer to resume my day but I can feel my soul recharging. I stare into the imagery and no longer feel trapped by impending doom. It is impossible to bear witness to a youth uprising and not feel immense hope about our future — coupled with the commitment to help them make it a reality.
The anti-ICE protests mark a definitive turning point in our nation's trajectory, one that began with the emergence of Donald Trump as a force of nature roughly a decade ago.
The walkouts also mark the moment the baton of anti-fascist activism has passed from the nation's oldest generation — who thus far accounted for the bulk of visible protests — to the youngest generation.
That corporate media and the commentariat refuse to acknowledge this seismic shift doesn't diminish its historical impact.
The public murder of Renee Good and Alex Pretti, and the larger occupation of Minnesota, had the opposite of its intended outcome. The regime wanted to make a glaring example of Minneapolis —a diverse medium-sized Blue island in an ocean of Red — that resistance to their agenda is futile.
But by trying to stomp out an active fire in Minneapolis, Trump spread glowing embers to every town and city — the hot coals even hopped generational gaps. The broadening generational participation against the regime is arguably more important than the growing geography of resistance.
That isn't to say the geography of rebellion isn't impressive. One can map concentric circles from the epicenter in Minneapolis across the Midwest: school walkouts in the tiniest towns in rural Minnesota, a massive protest in neighboring Milwaukee and throughout Wisconsin, student walkouts in Michigan and in St Louis, Missouri. I saw photos of students in Cleveland and Columbus, Ohio. Ten thousand took the streets of Chicago.
Across the plains and America's heartland, deep in Trump country, thousands of students poured out from their schools in coordinated and peaceful fashion. At an anti-ICE protest in front of a high school in Fremont, Nebraska, one student in an SUV waving an oversized Trump flag struck a classmate then fled the scene, to the horror of screaming students and faculty.
We bear witness to MAGA's violence against children, whether it's little Liam Ramos or a white child participating in their first sidewalk picket. The threat of physical danger and death lurks even in the most unlikely places, which means no protest against the regime can be glibly dismissed as purely performative. The symbolism of a Trumper injuring a fellow student then attempting to escape accountability was likely not lost on their classmates or the community.
MAGA flees from the crime scene as fast as they dash from relevance; the Quickest Reich.
Friday's protests were so widespread I had to cross check common city names to identify which state it was in. For example, there was a huge march near the Bay in Lafayette County, California, as well as a protest in Lafayette, Indiana, home of Purdue University. Students and neighbors hit the streets in Lafayette, North Carolina. Two nights prior, the community of Lafayette, Louisiana protested against local police cooperation with ICE. Students from more than 100 schools in Georgia walked out.
I saw a photo of students in Burlington under swirling storm clouds against a lush green mountainous backdrop wearing only flannels and hoodies and knew it couldn't be Burlington, Vermont, where despite three feet of snow and below freezing temps, saw at least 1,000 people march. That's how I learned of Burlington, Washington nestled in the Skagit Valley, where students lined both sides of the freeway. Students throughout Portland, Oregon led walk outs. I watched a clip of people marching through historic downtown Portland, Maine, accompanied by a brass band, that was so long it went for two minutes.
Students in California hit the streets from San Diego to Sacramento and everywhere in between. On the other coast, students walked out at Brooklyn Tech, the largest high school in the nation.
Trump's invasion and occupation of Minneapolis not only spread the resistance across geographies and generations, but by extension across races. Aside from a few communities which remain mostly white, the majority of US children already live in a multi-racial society, go to diverse schools, and they don't want to see their friends and neighbors abducted, tortured, and deported.
Let me quickly point out the unlikely example of my hometown of Manchester, New Hampshire. When I began school in the early 80s, 90% of the city's student body was white. All the non-white students combined comprised only 10% of the student body. Today, half of Manchester students are non-white.
Many Manchester students are from recently immigrated families as our city is a UN designated relocation sanctuary for displaced refugees. We have immigrants from Sudan, Darfur, and the former Yugoslavia. In our small northern New England former mill town — in the nation's third-whitest state — our residents speak more than 100 languages.
Students rose up across the West, from Denver to Reno, from Tucson to Deep Red Dallas. Their families are from South and Central America. They are Mexican, Chicano, Mexican and Chicano, living alongside and among hundreds of Native American Nations and their communities. Their ancestors have been here and crossed imaginary borders for millennia before Christopher Columbus ever stuck his syphilitic foot on their soil.
This is America and it will take more than chintzy sheet metal concentration camps and masked Rent-A-Goons to erase us.
A sizable chunk of America's youth realize a sizable chunk of American adults are violent, racist, and delusional. Young people aren't waiting until they can vote to make political demands and take political action, something we adults should take a cue from.
It's impossible to look at these brave children and sincerely believe this nation is on the cusp of descending into a fascist hellhole. If the growing demonstrations signify anything, it's that America's future will look dramatically different than the regime envisioned.
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