On April 5th, 2025, the streets spoke.
From Anchorage to Tallahassee, from college dorms to cornfields, millions of us flooded the country with a tidal wave of truth. It was the Hands Off Movement — a sprawling, unstoppable protest against Donald Trump’s second-term power grabs, immigrant crackdowns, judicial sabotage, and his all-you-can-eat buffet of corruption and cruelty.
There were signs that said “Hands Off My Uterus,” “Hands Off My Books,” “Hands Off the Damn Planet.”
There were chants, songs, sit-ins, vigils, flash mobs, car caravans, and entire high school orchestras playing Rage Against the Machine on the steps of state capitols.
And for the first time in a long time, it felt like the people were winning.
Trump, of course, reacted exactly how you’d expect a malignant narcissist with the emotional maturity of a rotting yam to respond.
TRUMP’S RESPONSE: A DICTATOR IN A GOLF CART
While the rest of us were out marching, Trump was holed up in a taxpayer-funded resort suite, furiously hate-scrolling through Fox News like a jilted prom king whose crown got revoked. When he saw the size and spirit of April 5th’s uprising, he didn’t reflect. He didn’t reconsider.
He retaliated.
He declared the protests “illegal.”
He threatened college students — yes, students — with expulsion, imprisonment, and even deportation if they dared to speak out again.
He moved to strip federal funding from universities that “allowed” the demonstrations, as if the First Amendment were optional and academic freedom was a communist plot.
He called Harvard a “disgrace” — which is rich coming from a guy who thinks “habeas corpus” is a brand of Cuban cigar.
Then his administration froze $2.3 billion in federal funds to Harvard and demanded they hand over foreign donor records, not because of any real concern, but because he knows how to weaponize bureaucracy like a mafia boss in a red hat.
Let’s be clear: this is fascism wearing a poorly tailored suit and bronzer #6.
Trump isn’t trying to lead. He’s trying to conquer. And the only thing standing in his way is you.
THE INSURRECTION ACT DEADLINE: APRIL 20’S LOADED GUN
Buried in the chaos is a clock — and it’s ticking.
Back on Inauguration Day, Trump signed a national emergency order directing his defense secretary and DHS chief to deliver a recommendation by April 20th on whether he should invoke the Insurrection Act — a 200-year-old law that allows the president to use the military inside the United States.
He claims it’s about the border. But with protests growing, rhetoric escalating, and Trump publicly foaming at the mouth like a televangelist with a Wi-Fi signal, no one seriously believes he’ll stop at Texas.
If he pulls that trigger, it won’t just be soldiers at the border.
It could be troops on college campuses, troops in cities, troops at polling places — all in the name of “order.”
This isn’t a metaphor. This is a live wire of tyranny.
And April 19 is our last best chance to grab the mic before he cuts the power.
APRIL 19: GET LOUD OR GET LEFT BEHIND
Tomorrow, the 50501 Movement — 50 protests in 50 states, one voice — roars back.
It’s not just a protest anymore. It’s a firewall.
Every body in the street is a line Trump has to cross.
Every chant is a declaration that we are still here, and still free — no matter how many tantrums he throws into executive orders.
If you marched on April 5th, march louder.
If you stayed home, now’s the time to lace up.
And if you can’t march — then post, donate, organize, scream.
Hang a sheet out your window that says “NOT TODAY, DONALD.”
Trump doesn’t fear violence. He fears defiance.
He fears crowds.
He fears students.
He fears the truth.
And above all, he fears the day we stop being afraid of him.
A FINAL WORD FOR THE BIG GUY HIMSELF
Mr. Trump — if you’re reading this (and we know you are, since you have the attention span of a baked potato and probably had it read to you by a guy named Chad who works at Truth Social), let us say this clearly:
You will not silence us.
You will not jail our voices.
You will not deport our dreams, or erase our outrage, or scare us back into obedience.
We’ve seen your playbook.
It’s old. It’s boring. It ends the same way every time: with you, alone, yelling at a teleprompter that forgot your name.
EVERYONE, OUT. NOW.
This is the moment.
If you’re waiting for a sign, this is it — in all caps and spray paint.
Get to the protest. Bring your friends. Bring snacks. Bring that one uncle who keeps muttering about “the youth.” Bring your rage. Bring your joy.
Bring your whole damn soul.
Because if free speech still exists, let’s use it like it’s the last day we’ll ever get to.
Let’s drown out the tyrant with the sound of a people unafraid.
See you in the streets.
This post has been syndicated from Closer to the Edge, where it was published under this address.