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 
Protesting in Minnesota October 19, 2025
Tags: America, commentary, democracy, First Amendment rights, freedom, Minnesota, NO KINGS protest, Northfield, peaceful protest, rally
I AM AN AMERICAN, a Minnesotan, a resident of Rice County and the city of Faribault. I am a writer, photographer, blogger, poet. I am a wife, mother, grandmother. And I am also a protester.
On Saturday I joined millions across the country and world participating in NO KINGS rallies in my fourth protest since June 14. I care about America. I love America. But I don’t like what’s happening here under the Trump administration, which is eroding our democracy and taking, or attempting to take, away our rights, freedoms and, oh, so much more by authoritarian rule, force, threats, retribution, control, manipulation…
I refuse to remain silent at a time such as this. So I exercised my rights to free speech and freedom of peaceful assembly under the First Amendment to the Constitution by participating in a protest in neighboring Northfield along with a thousand or more others. We packed Ames Park along the Cannon River and lined the east side of Minnesota State Highway 3 for a block to listen to speakers, to share our concerns, to hold protest signs high, to hear plans of action, to sing and pray and reflect, and to engage in conversation.
At times throughout the 1 ½-hour event, I protested next to a Vietnam War veteran, a mechanic, a retired professor of Spanish and Latin American literature (also a poet), a retired college office employee, a retired engineer, a retired elementary school teacher… I also mingled among countless others there for the same reason—to protest. To express our concerns about healthcare, education, the economy, immigration, due process, freedom of speech, a free press, free and fair elections, government funding cuts, the presence of military in our cities, the balance of power, the judiciary, the overreach of power, clean energy… The list goes on and on.
I saw a baby strapped to his/her mom. Kids on shoulders. Kids with signs. Young people of high school age and early adulthood. Those in their middle years. Those in their sixties, like me. And those even older, some probably pushing ninety. The turn-out for this protest was even bigger and more diverse age-wise than the one in June in Northfield on the date Minnesota House Speaker Emerita Melissa Hortman and her husband, Doug, were assassinated.
To be among this group of peacefully protesting concerned Americans during the NO KINGS rally felt empowering. Uplifting. We were unified in our movement, even as one speaker pointed out that we may not agree on everything. Another termed what’s unfolding in America today as not “normal.” It is not, and should not be, normal. Ever.
Support from motorists passing by was overwhelmingly positive with honking horns and waves. Of course, we got a few middle fingers and intentionally roaring, racing vehicles. Only once did I feel unsafe—when a car sped by at a dangerously high speed, the driver clearly attempting to antagonize and threaten us. That was the only overt hatred I witnessed.
Those of us peacefully gathered did not, as some Republican politicians adamantly and wrongly stated, come because we hate America. Far from it. We love America. That was clear in the peaceful tone of the event, in American flags waving, in recitation of the Pledge of Allegiance, in singing of the national anthem, in signage, in our desire to uphold the Constitution, in our genuinely deep concern about the state of our country under President Donald Trump. In our voices rising. Loud. And free.
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© Copyright 2025 Audrey Kletscher Helbling