I LEANED MY HEAD against Randy’s shoulder, my left hand gripping the rod of a protest sign and a small American flag. I felt such profound sadness in that moment. The moment when a pastor asked for a period of silence in honor of Minnesota State Representative/House Speaker Emerita Melissa Hortman and her husband, Mark, assassinated in their home during the early morning hours of June 14.
Flag Day. Nationwide NO KINGS protest day. A day of gathering turned tragic here in Minnesota.
I alternated between leaning into my husband and leaning my bowed head against the bottom of my NO MORE KINGS protest poster held high, the sign with the cursive words, “I value freedom,” scrawled on the back side. The wind blew, swept my hair across my face like a veil covering sadness. The heaviness felt palpable here, in Ames Park in Northfield, along the banks of the Cannon River. But so did the energy.
We were a group of hundreds—maybe even a thousand (I’m not good at estimating crowd size)—gathered to publicly express our concerns about leadership in this country, about decisions being made that negatively affect all of us, about the state of and future of our democracy… It was my first protest. Ever. I wanted, needed, to be here. To remain silent seems complicit.
I’d already arrived when a friend texted that Minnesotans had been advised by state law enforcement not to attend NO KINGS protests. That warning linked to the suspect in the shootings of the Hortmans and of State Senator John Hoffman and his wife, Yvette. We would later learn that NO KINGS fliers were found in the vehicle of Vance Boelter, now accused in the double murders and attempted murders.
That explained why, on the way to the riverside protest, I overheard a woman telling a couple that her police officer son had advised her not to participate in the rally. She was going home. I was not. Nor were any of the others converging on Ames Park at noon. I wasn’t scared. Vested safety people, trained in conflict resolution and de-escalation, were in place. I felt safe in the masses, which, I suppose, is an unrealistic perspective. But I refuse to be silenced by fear, by the words and actions of those who attempt to suppress voices. And intimidate.
And there were those, including the drivers of a white pickup truck and of motorcycles which repeatedly roared past the rally site, spewing their opposition in noise and in political flags bannering messages I won’t repeat. But they, too, have a right to protest. Peacefully. Just as I do. And I wrote that on the back of a second sign: FREE to PROTEST. But, mostly, passing vehicles honked in strong support.
At this rally of people opposing the current administration and its policies and actions, I felt a unity of purpose and a deep, cohesive concern for the future of our country. I felt uplifted, embraced, empowered. Speakers spoke (although I couldn’t hear most). The pastor led us in prayer. We sang—”The Star Spangled Banner” and “We shall overcome.” We cheered. We chanted. We waved our posters and flags. And a group held an over-sized American flag, which I couldn’t see from my vantage point deep in the shoulder-to-shoulder crowd.
We were mostly an older group. Baby Boomers. Grandparents. Even octogenarians. Perhaps some protested during the Vietnam War. Or served this country. We’ve lived a few years, enough decades to understand that we need to rise up against authoritarianism. Enough to understand what’s at stake. But there were some young people, too, like the dad behind me with his preschool daughter playing in the grass. He clearly cares, if not for himself, but then for his child.
The morning after the NO KINGS protest, I left for Madison, Wisconsin, to spend time with my 5-month-old grandson (and his parents). As I snuggled Everett, I thought, he (and my other two grandchildren) are part of the reason I chose to protest. Their lives stretch before them. I want them to live in a country where they are free. Free. I want them to live under a government based on a three-pronged system of checks and balances, not one ruled by a king or some version of a king or dictator. I want them to live in a kind, caring and compassionate country. Not a selfish, uncaring, divisive nation filled with hatred.
I returned to Minnesota yesterday and am catching up on laundry and writing. And, along with my fellow Minnesotans, I’m collectively grieving the assassination of an elected official and her husband. And I’m thinking, this is what it’s come to in Amercia…
© Copyright 2025 Audrey Kletscher Helbling
Minnesota Prairie Roots 
Commentary: I care about my neighbors, a free press, freedom & more December 3, 2025
Tags: America, bullying, censorship, commentary, Faribault, free press, government, journalists, media, Minnesota, news, opinion, Somalis
I CAN’T IGNORE the news. I want to, no, need to, know what’s happening on all levels from local to international. Perhaps it’s my innate curiosity or my journalism background that compels me to read and watch media reports. I feel an obligation, especially in these challenging times, to be as informed as possible.
What I’ve been hearing and reading from the federal government in Washington DC continues to concern me. Deeply. I can hardly believe the rhetoric, the hatred, the awfulness that is flowing like hot lava from fiery mouths upon this land.
The latest is the hatred directed by our president toward Somalis living in America, including some 80,000 in Minnesota. My community of Faribault is home to many Somali Americans. The president has singled out Somalis in Minnesota with his derogatory words and planned, targeted ICE raids here. I am proud of the mayors of Minneapolis and St. Paul and other leaders, including the Minneapolis police chief, for speaking up and standing strong for the Somali community during a Tuesday afternoon news conference. They recognize the threat to this specific demographic. And they value the Somalis who call Minnesota home.
“Who,” I ask, “will be next? Me, because my eyes are green?” Maybe he doesn’t care for green-eyed people. Or you? Because he doesn’t like something about you.
He certainly doesn’t care for journalists, especially female journalists. I realize a dislike of journalists is nothing new. But this president has gone well beyond “dislike” to outright meanness, bullying and name-calling. I never thought I would see the day when the leader of our country would chastise a reporter with “Quiet, piggy.” I never thought I would hear an American president call a reporter fat or terrible or ugly or any other adjective while hissing “fake news” at the media.
When the U.S. government launched a Media Bias page on the official White House website just days ago, I felt nothing short of outraged. This is the United States of America, where freedom of the press ought to mean something, where the media is independent of the government, where reporters have a right and a duty to accurately report the truth without fear of intimidation, public shaming, recrimination,… This newest tactic of naming a “Media Offender of the Week” ought to anger every single person in this country. I don’t care what side of the political aisle you sit on. This latest action speaks to censorship, to controlling the press, to propaganda, to anything but democracy.
I value freedom. I hope you do, too, enough to stand up for a free press, individual rights, freedom from fear, intimidation, oppression and all that threatens us. These are unprecedented times (yes, I recognize that may be an overused word, but it fits) in our country. I refuse to remain silent.
THOUGHTS?
© Copyright 2025 Audrey Kletscher Helbling