Roseville’s ‘No Kings’ protest was a joyous display of community solidarity | Opinion
Roseville’s “No Kings” protest wasn’t just peaceful, it was joyous.
Approximately 5,000 people lined a four-way intersection near the Roseville Galleria with signs protesting President Donald Trump.
The “No Kings” movement brands Trump a king our democracy doesn’t need and even in Placer County, where Trump carried nearly 53% of the vote last November, the resistance was strong enough to hold a spirited event that joined many others across the country on Saturday.
Why was it joyous?
Perhaps a strange word to use given the tone of people’s signs — furious and indignant (“this is what autocracy looks like”) but also often clever and witty (“Atwood and Orwell wrote warnings, not instructions!”). People were upset, worried, and angry. But they were unified. And in that unity, there was a shared sense of purpose — and, yes, joy.
The protest was a gathering of neighbors: While waving their signs in the air and throwing up peace signs, protesters mingled, they caught up, introduced themselves and smiled at one another.
The rallies, which occurred simultaneously across the U.S., coincided with Trump’s extravagant and costly military birthday parade in Washington, D.C.
Over the last few years, Placer County has become a region divided by politics: The Rocklin Unified School District approved a dangerous policy targeting transgender students in 2023 despite widespread community outrage; that same year, the Roseville Joint Union High School District cancelled an annual drag show; in the early days of the pandemic, Rocklin’s Destiny megachurch made national headlines for defying state COVID safety orders; and in 2021, the Roseville City Council voted against flying the Pride flag.
Trump has mobilized Placer County residents who were not involved in activist efforts during his first term. One such individual is Ann Perales, 67, a Roseville resident who got involved with Indivisible Roseville, a progressive organization, three months ago.
Self-identified moderate Corley Phillips, 70, of Granite Bay, is chairman of Sierra Forward, a local pro-democracy political organization. Phillips was dressed as a king (a recycled costume from a performance of the Knights of the Round Table with his barbershop quartet) with a large X sign hanging around his neck. He had drafted an email to the approximately 8,000 individuals on Sierra Forward’s email listserv encouraging them to attend a local “No Kings” protest.
“And then I thought, ‘Wait, I should get involved in this,’” Phillips said. He had received lots of compliments on his outfit but had to duck out of the protest early to make a barbership gig for a 90-year-old’s birthday party.
While the crowd mostly skewed older, a good group of young people was in attendance. , Auburn resident Colin Denny, 23, said “I paid attention in history classes.”
“It’s our moral responsibility to protest injustice,” Denny said, who was protesting alongside his girlfriend and two other friends.
Incoming high school senior Thomas Furbee, 17, held a sign that said “Ningún ser humano es ilegal” (no human being is illegal). They said they were “shocked” by the huge show of people.
“I think Trump supporters in Placer County are a loud minority — at least I hope so,” Furbee said. The high school student, who identifies as transgender queer and pansexual, said that while classmates occasionally espouse transphobic and homophobic sentiment, staff and counselors are extremely supportive and inclusive, proudly displaying Pride flags.
Furbee handed me a pack of fruit snacks as I walked away — an example of the warm, welcoming communal spirit of the event.
Across the street, decked out in a transgender pride flag and rainbow earrings and glasses, Charise Spencer, a mental health provider in Sacramento County, choked up when she talked about the “fear and anxiety that exists in this community,” especially for her patients on Medicaid and members of the LGBTQ+ community.
“My observation is that people are starting to feel like, ‘I can’t sit back and be quiet,” Spencer said. “Our safety is not guaranteed.”
The Roseville intersection where the protesters were staked out is a busy one, and it seemed like there was a near-endless drone of supportive honks from cars passing by. Despite a handful of middle fingers from drivers and passengers in passing cars, protesters whooping and hollering were met with a lot of encouraging thumbs up and waves.
To say that this day will be a turning point for our country seems naive. But truthfully, it did seem like a turning point for Placer County. It was energizing to be around thousands of people who see that there’s something deeply wrong happening in our country and feel inspired and outraged enough to show up and say something. And it was a moment of true pride — a feeling of being proud to be a Rosevillian, something I have not felt in many years.
“This is not the country I grew up in,” said Frank Kitchell, 86. “Things are not going right. We need to make changes, and it’s up to us to do it.”