What Are We Really Protesting?

This past weekend, our historic Denton Square once again became the stage for yet another protest—this time under the “No Kings” banner, a movement that purportedly stands against authoritarianism and billionaire-first politics. The signs were loud, the chants were rhythmic, and the disruption to local businesses was—as usual—completely ignored by organizers and participants alike1. Thankfully there was no violence or property damage as we have seen in similar gatherings.

Let’s get one thing straight: since the revolutionary Tea Party2, the right to assemble and speak freely is fundamental to the American experiment. We have carved that right into our constitutional DNA. But exercising that right without direction, without discipline, and without measurable purpose starts to look more like noise than noble resistance.

Ask a handful of attendees what they’re protesting and you’re likely to get an earful of vague and contradictory responses. One blames Trump. Another says it’s about the climate. A third mentions boys in girls’ sports, and a fourth insists it’s about immigration arrests. The only consistent theme? A deep resentment of change they can’t control and a disdain for a political figure they don’t understand. The “No Kings” protest felt more like a costume party for discontent than a coalition for reform.

But here’s the real issue: the sheer energy, finances and organization it takes to coordinate a national protest like this could be transformative—if redirected. Thousands of people mobilized on a Saturday morning to walk in circles with cardboard signs. Imagine if that same energy was used to clean up our parks, read to kids at the library, or help a struggling neighbor with their yard or to write a resume. What if the chants were replaced with hammers and gloves at a local Habitat for Humanity build? Or bags and gloves on a community litter patrol?

Instead, small businesses on the Square—our coffee shops, record stores, boutiques, and barbers—lose foot traffic, face property damage, and must deal with clogged streets. My group avoids this area during protests which further hurts the economics for those businesses. The same folks who demand justice often don’t think twice about blocking the entrance to a family-owned storefront that might be struggling to keep its lights on.

Worse still, the policy impact of these protests is negligible at best. Name one local, state, or federal policy that changed because of a Denton-based protest. We’ll wait. While the marchers vent and hashtag their way into each other’s echo chambers, the actual power structures remain untouched. Not out of conspiracy, but because protests without strategy are empty rituals. I would wager many of these protestors do not actually vote or participate in change more than hanging with their friends on a sunny day.

Let’s be honest—some protests do matter. The Tea Party mattered. Selma mattered. Sufferage mattered. The lunch counters mattered. But standing in the city square yelling slogans at strangers in Denton, Texas, does not carry that same historical weight—especially when no one seems to agree on what they’re even marching for.

This is not a call to silence dissent. Quite the opposite. This is a plea for meaningful engagement. Protest, yes—but not as a hobby. Don’t just talk about change. Do something.

Because those who can, do. Those who cannot, protest.

This American still believes in protest—but also in action. And I choose to direct my support and resources toward actual solutions: tutoring at-risk kids, volunteering with the homeless, supporting my parks, and helping my neighbors. That, too, is patriotic.

And one last thing: your right to speak does not include the right to block traffic, interrupt others, shut down commerce, or trespass on private property. That’s not activism. That’s disruption, sometimes perhaps even terrorism. And it’s un-American.