By SK Lo
On October 18, I joined one of the most powerful spontaneous rallies I’ve ever witnessed, right in Golden Valley, Minnesota. The “No Kings” movement, sparked by growing concern over authoritarian drift and democratic erosion, brought together over 7 million people across 2,500 cities nationwide. In Golden Valley alone, the crowd swelled with energy, conviction, and a shared sense of urgency.
What made this rally stand out wasn’t just its scale, it was its sincerity. Most attendees came with homemade signs, each with a personal declaration of discontent, hope, or resistance. Some wore yellow, a color suggested by the organizing site to symbolize unity. A few arrived in costumes, and many waved American flags, not as symbols of blind patriotism, but as emblems of love for country and a desire to protect its democratic foundations.
Looking around, I saw that everyone was white. I couldn’t help but wonder, where were the Asian Americans? Where were the voices from communities who have long fought for visibility and inclusion in America’s civic life? It was a moment of quiet reflection, a reminder that even in spaces of resistance, representation can still fall short.
Later, I learned that a friend from Hong Kong had attended with her family. That lifted my spirits. And in a nearby restaurant, I met another family who had brought three generations to the rally—two grandfathers, three young children, and their parents. Their presence reminded me that civic engagement isn’t reserved for activists or politicians. It belongs to families, neighbors, and everyday citizens who care deeply about the future.
The rally was peaceful, passionate, and deeply human. Yet as the chants faded and the crowd dispersed, a question lingered: Will this change anything? Many I spoke with expressed a sense of hopelessness. They feared their voices, however loud, might be drowned out by entrenched power and political inertia.
Still, I believe there’s power in showing up. In standing shoulder to shoulder with strangers who care. In asking, where are we? and where do we go from here? The No Kings rally wasn’t just a protest, it was a mirror. It reflected our fears, our hopes, and our collective longing for a country that lives up to its ideals.
For Asian Americans, and for all communities that have felt sidelined, this is a call to presence. We must not only show up, we must be seen. Our stories, our signs, our flags, and our families belong in these spaces. Because democracy isn’t defended by silence. It’s defended by participation.
