When Protest Becomes Communion
We stood shoulder to shoulder at the NO Kings Rally in Oakland Park, not just as protesters, but as stewards of a shared truth. The day began at the United Church of Christ, where those gathered buzzed with purpose. Tables overflowed with markers, cardboard, and conviction. We crafted signs that didn’t just shout—they sang and demanded. “No Kings.” “Democracy Is a Verb.” Each one a prayer, a punchline, a promise.
From there, we marched—not in silence, but in solidarity. The sidewalk along Oakland Park Blvd. at the Federal Highway intersection became a river of color and courage, flowing toward the rally site where a vibrant crowd had already gathered. Flags waved, megaphone voices filled the air, and voices rose—not in anger, but in fierce love for what democracy could still be.
This wasn’t just a protest. It was a reclamation. A celebration of shared power and a refusal to be gaslit into apathy. We bore witness to the erosion of institutions meant to protect us—the CDC, the Department of Education, the very idea of public good. We gathered to name the cruelty: the militarization of our cities, the deportation of neighbors, the gutting of diversity, equity, and inclusion. And we named the absurdity too—how billionaires thrive while families ration insulin and teachers buy their own supplies. But what struck deepest was the joy. The kind that blooms in resistance. Strangers became friends and passed along their chants. We weren’t just lifting signs—we were lifting each other. Holding fast to hope, even as the winds of policy and propaganda tried to knock it loose.
These gatherings are more than symbolic. They’re soul maintenance. They remind us that empathy isn’t soft—it’s radical. It’s the muscle we flex when we choose connection over control, community over hierarchy.
And that’s where Empathy on the Rocks finds its footing. This blog isn’t just a scrapbook of casseroles and travel mishaps—it’s a living archive of response. Of showing up. Of laughing through grief and marching through fear. Today’s rally was another chapter: and magnificently human. It’s proof that when we gather with intention, we don’t just resist—we rebuild. Shoulder to shoulder, casserole to protest sign, we keep choosing each other. And that, my friends, is the real revolution.