No Throne, No Crown

No Kings Day – Holding Down the Fort

Today is No Kings Day. A declaration. A refusal. A collective cry against authoritarianism in all its guises. While many are gathering in the streets, marching, chanting, standing shoulder to shoulder in fierce solidarity, I am here at home. I am not absent. I am not idle. I am present in a different way.

My phone is charged and in hand. I am the emergency contact, the lifeline, the one who stays out of custody so I can be the first call from it. My house is the safe place. I know this role is vital. I know it saves lives and soothes fear. But still, my activist heart twists at not being beside them in body. I long to raise my voice in the crowd, to feel the pavement under boots worn from protest. It’s not guilt I feel—it’s ache.

I wear black: hoodie, pants, Poe’s “Nevermore” on my chest. The flags out front fly with layered defiance: Pride in every color, the American flag inverted. My home is marked. My stance is visible. My voice, though not echoed in chants, is whispered in the readiness of this space and the strength of my watchfulness. I am here. I am holding down the fort. I am alert, awake, and absolutely in this fight.

To all of us, marchers, supporters, watchers in the shadows, we form the net that catches each other. We are the movement, together.

Chant for No Kings Day:

No throne, no crown, no gilded lie
We rise, we fight, we do not die
No kings, no lords, no stolen seat
The people’s will will not retreat

Stay safe. Stay loud. Stay ready.