You’re not a criminal. You’re not an agent of chaos. You’re not the villain here. You’re a person with a conscience — which already makes you a public threat in 2025.
So maybe you’re thinking: What if I cross that line? What if I refuse to sit still while the country catches fire around me? What if I choose to get arrested?
Here are answers to some FAQs:
CAN I SAY I PLAN TO GET ARRESTED?
Yes. This is still technically America, even if it feels like the set of a rejected dystopian pilot. You can say, “I plan to sit down in that intersection and refuse to move until I’m cuffed.” That’s called speech. That’s called protest. That’s called not letting the bastards have the last word.
CAN I TELL OTHER PEOPLE TO GET ARRESTED TOO?
You can say, “Join me.” You can say, “We need bodies in the streets.” You can even say, “Let’s shut it down.”
What you can’t say — unless you want an extra charge or three — is “Let’s go full Joker mode and blow up a courthouse.” Don’t do that. No Molotovs. No violence. Keep it nonviolent, organized, and defiant. That’s how movements win — and how we sleep at night.
IF WE PLAN IT TOGETHER, IS THAT CONSPIRACY?
If you’re planning brunch, it’s a group chat. If you’re planning a peaceful protest, it’s the First Amendment. But the moment someone in power decides you’re inconvenient? Suddenly it’s conspiracy to trespass, interference with government operations, or whatever else they dig up to shut you up.
They want you afraid of organizing. That’s why you organize harder.
And after the action? Zip it. Post no selfies. Give no statements. Shut the hell up and call a lawyer.
WHAT WILL THEY CHARGE ME WITH?
These are their favorite hits:
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Trespassing
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Disorderly conduct
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Failure to disperse
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Obstructing a sidewalk (yes, seriously)
Sometimes you’ll get a ticket.
Sometimes a night in jail.
Sometimes a scar. But for most people, it’s a manageable misdemeanor — unless you’re in a red state, on federal land, or your protest made a donor’s brunch go cold.
The real charge? Making them look bad. That’s when they start to overreact. Wear it like a badge.
STATE VS. FEDERAL ARREST — WHAT’S THE DIFFERENCE?
Think parking ticket vs. Kafka fan fiction.
A state arrest? You’re dealing with local cops, local jails, maybe local news. It sucks, but it’s doable.
A federal arrest? Now you’re in alphabet soup territory — DHS, FBI. Avoid federal property unless you’re ready to be treated like a threat to national security because you dared to sit in front of a door.
CAN I CHAIN MYSELF TO SOMETHING?
Yes — if it’s symbolic, safe, and not a federal war monument. Chain yourself to a tree, a gate, a friend — fine. Chain yourself to the doors of a federal building? You just upgraded from “activist” to “federal case number.” Know your audience.
CAN I TELL THE COPS I WANT TO BE ARRESTED?
Absolutely. Civil disobedience only works if you’re willing to take the hit — peacefully, loudly, and on camera. Just don’t swing, don’t run, and don’t say anything stupid. “I’m doing this to protest injustice” = fine. “I’m gonna torch your squad car” = felony.
WILL THIS STAY ON MY RECORD FOREVER?
Maybe. Maybe not. Depends on your state, your lawyer, your skin color, and your luck. Some charges get dropped. Some get sealed. But you know what stays on all our records?
Silence.
The shit we didn’t do. The people we didn’t help. The moment we stayed home when it mattered most.
WHAT IF I ANNOUNCE MY PLANS PUBLICLY?
Go ahead — just know what comes with it. If you post “I’m organizing a sit-in at the Capitol,” don’t be surprised when they know your name. Leaders get targeted first. But someone’s gotta lead. And if not you, then who?
WHAT HAPPENS IF I DO NOTHING?
That’s the real question.
You keep your record clean, maybe. You sleep in your own bed, probably. But the machine keeps grinding. They ban more books. They deport more kids. They criminalize more bodies. They redraw more maps. They rewrite more history.
You don’t get arrested. But you lose the country.
SO SHOULD I DO IT?
We’re not telling you what to do. We’re telling you what it costs — both ways. The risk of action is real. So is the risk of inaction.
Movements don’t need martyrs. But they do need bodies. Real people. Loud voices. Unbreakable courage. And sometimes, yes — someone willing to sit in the street and say: Enough.
Because bravery spreads. So does fear.
And the country we get next?
It’s the one we earn.
This post has been syndicated from Closer to the Edge, where it was published under this address.