I have been wrestling, sadly, just with myself, with writing about Chicago. I think of this blog as my way of deciphering the environment I’m in when we travel, seeing it as an outsider but trying to understand what’s happening on the inside. Arguably I could do that regarding Chicago, as we’re new here and still unraveling the local mores and quaint customs. I mean, deep dish pizza. Who hurt you, Chicago?

On the other hand, we may be new to Chicago, but it’s still fundamentally our culture. It’s less a foreign locale than a new neighborhood, so it’s not clear to me what I might have to say, other than, “Hey! Cool new neighborhood, amiright?” It just doesn’t feel like I have anything interesting to say about Chicago.

As it happened, I was having this very conversation with my sister, Nef, and my niece, Amber, as we walked to a downtown protest about Trump sending ICE and troops to Chicago. Spoiler: the demonstrators were opposed. I basically laid out the argument above, to have them push back that they thought the blog was about something else entirely. I don’t remember what, exactly, as I was confused as to whether I was supposed to be offended that someone else was defining my intentions as a writer or chagrined that I didn’t seem to be doing what I thought I was doing. Regardless, their contention was that their interpretation of the blog’s focus permitted plenty of Chicago reportage.

Then we got to the corner of Michigan Avenue and Ida B. Wells Drive, the gathering spot for the protest, and I realized that they were right. Maybe not regarding my objectives in blogging, but they were certainly correct that Chicago would offer ample blogging opportunities. Looking at the crowd gathered there, I felt as much confusion as to what the natives were doing as I did in any of the more credibly “foreign” places we’ve visited. I was pleasantly surprised to discover how comfortable I felt now that I was baffled. It’s the place I’ve been living the past couple of years, and it feels like home.

As with everywhere else we’ve been, I was struggling to understand the purpose, meaning, and intention of what I was seeing. It just wasn’t clear what we were there to do. Protest, sure, I got that part, but to what end? The desired outcome of this activity wasn’t at all obvious to me.

Which is not to shit all over protests and demonstrations. They’re all we have. But they’re inherently performative, which is why I’ve never attended one before. They’re about expressing anger and outrage, and while I’m certain that expression feels cathartic, it’s not going to directly lead to anything changing. Unless we deploy the Kathmandu method, which didn’t seem to be on the menu. Absent that, which I’m also certain was cathartic, the best a protest can do is let people know that other people are outraged. And if enough people know that enough other people are outraged, A Change Is Gonna Come, I guess. It all feels very abstract.

I think maybe it was because, in an alignment unlikely to reoccur, the cops and protestors were on the same side. Nobody wanted a massive ICE presence or troop deployment. The citizens because, “How dare you?” and the cops because, “Hey! Brutalizing Chicago’s citizens is our thing! Stay in your lane.” Still, the absence of water cannons and beatings was probably a net positive. However it came about.

The result was a vibe more Lollapalooza than Watts Riots. There was marching and chanting of slogans and waving of signs. One of the chants sounded like “Trump loves donuts,” which, sadly, it was not. It’s probably a good thing I didn’t have a bullhorn, as that’s certainly the chant I’d have led. So many great reasons for me to not have a bullhorn.

The signs, however, were 100% the highlight of the experience. If you’ve been following along, you know that we always document entertaining examples of local graphic design, and this place was a hotbed, from hand scrawled to elaborately printed. Many of them were clever and funny, but quite a few seemed not fully on point. While the ostensible purpose of the gathering was to protest the Trump administration’s plans to send the military to Chicago to assist ICE deportation efforts, the signage reflected a less focused umbrage.

And there were a ton of signs that just seemed hilariously off the mark. Calls to release the Epstein files. An earnest young woman carrying a handmade sign with the reproductive rights slogan, “Keep Your Hands Off Our Bodies.” An obviously unassailable sentiment, just not particularly related to the stated purpose of the demonstration. And this:

OK.

But my favorite was this:

I apologize for truncating the sign. The full quote is, “First off, fuck your bitch and the clique you claim.” At the time I thought, well, you’re just angry, aren’t you? Not sure about what, but that’s not a happy sentiment. Then I looked it up, and it’s a lyric from a famous 2Pac dis track, Hit ‘Em Up, and that rabbit hole left me more confused than when I thought it was just random.

Hit ‘Em Up is about the West Coast/East Coast beef that eventually took 2Pac’s life, among others. He specifically called out East Coast rappers such as the Notorious B.I.G, Diddy, and Mobb Deep. For being, you know, bad people. And suggesting that the appropriate response to their badness was to fuck they bitches, to be followed by stabbing and shooting. Not of the bitches, of the bad people. Bitches are for fucking, not stabbing and shooting. Go down that path and soon enough you’ll run out of bitches to fuck. No one wants that.

Anyway. A measured, thoughtful, reasonable position. Hard to argue.

But harder to find the thread that connects the quote to the event. Is it a metaphor? Are we 2Pac, and is the Trump administration East Coast rappers? Are we supposed to fuck they bitches? Before stabbing and shooting? If that’s the intention, does the sign carrier understand that we die in the end?

This was more targeted to the rationale of the gathering, but so telegraphic I had to decode it for our group.

I can’t begin to tell you how I knew this, but the sign refers to Article 92 of the Uniform Code of Military Justice, which defines the requirement for soldiers to follow orders, but provides an affirmative defense for failing to do so if the order was illegal. That’s a subtle, perfectly targeted argument that, maybe, could have been made a tad more obvious.

And these are just funny.

I’m glad I went, because we brought the Trump administration to its knees, and about damn time he faced the consequences of collective action. Next up: climate change. Or vaccines. Or tariffs. Or extrajudicial killings.

No wonder those signs were stuffed.