No Kings 2.0
Finding Meaning at the No Kings Protest
I’ll admit, I was skeptical about attending the No Kings protest in Presque Isle. In a world drowning in political noise, division, and hate, it’s easy to wonder if showing up to a small demonstration in rural Maine could possibly make any difference. I’m an introvert by nature and usually avoid crowds, but this time, something in me knew I had to go. Even if it didn’t “change anything,” it felt like the only thing I could do.
Once there, my skepticism began to fade. The atmosphere was peaceful and filled with love. There was a sense of community, of shared purpose, that felt rare and deeply needed in today’s world. For a while, it felt like the noise and anger that so often divide us had quieted, replaced by unity, compassion, and hope.
As the protest was wrapping up and people began to disperse, I decided it was time to head home. On the way back to my vehicle I noticed a woman sitting in her car, crying. I went over and asked if she was okay. Through tears, she told me she was from Palestine. My heart sank. The atrocities being carried out there — funded by our own tax dollars — were one of the main reasons I’d come to the protest in the first place. I offered her a hug, which she graciously accepted. She said she was just so surprised that anyone had shown up to fight and stand with her people. I apologized for the terror being waged on her family. We shared a few moments of connection — strangers linked by empathy and grief — we hugged and then I continued the walk back to my car.
I no longer believed our little protest “didn’t change anything.” Because even if it didn’t make the news or shift global politics, it made one displaced woman feel seen. And that, in itself, was everything.
Her name is Sarah. She reached out to me later, writing:
“I’m Palestinian and originally from Gaza. Thank you so much. Today touched my heart and the heart of many Palestinians. I’ll spread my message to my family. My mom’s cousins died as martyrs in this genocide; today their deaths weren’t in vain as the truth prevailed. Our message reached every part of the world — even to towns like Presque Isle. The community showed that the people were on the right side of history, and that no matter our race, gender, or religion, we are human first. Today I saw that. Thank you. And always — Free Palestine."
So yes — maybe a small-town protest doesn’t change the world overnight. But it changes something. It reminds us that humanity still exists, even in the quiet corners of Maine. Maybe that’s where real change begins.
— A. Saucier
Presque Isle, Maine
