“Hands Off” in Salem: A Parade of Panic, Polyester, and Purpose

Today in Salem, Oregon, I stood with a few thousand strangers who smelled vaguely of rain, weed, and fury. We were hgathered on the Capitol Mall, among the Cheery Trees-not for a concert, not for a sale—but because the world feels like it’s being slowly stripped for parts, and we’re all expected to smile while billionaires auction off the bolts.

They called it the “Hands Off” protest. Hands off our Social Security. Hands off our Medicaid. Hands off the parts of life that keep the roof up and the wolves out. I saw grandmothers clutching signs that said “Don’t Elon My Medicare,” and I swear one guy had a taxidermied weasel on his shoulder that might’ve been a statement about capitalism, or maybe just an emotional support rodent.

You could feel it in the air—this isn’t the polite Oregon protest of yore. People are scared. Not “we disagree on policy” scared. More like “if one more regulation gets gutted, I’m moving into my car and homeschooling my dog” scared.

One speaker, a teacher from West Salem, said she’d had to explain to second-graders what a deportation raid was. Another talked about how their federal job just vanished like it never existed—poof, like Elon snapped his fingers. There were chants, applause, and the occasional guy screaming about fluoride. It wouldn’t be Salem without that guy.

The thing is, this wasn’t just a rally. It was a messy, beautiful, desperate display of humanity clinging to the idea that government is supposed to help people. That’s all. Not make billionaires weep with joy while the rest of us skip lunch to afford insulin.

Video from “Hands Off” protest in Salem, OR. April 5, 2025

And yeah, maybe we didn’t change the world today. But we showed up. In the drizzle. With our Sharpied signs and our fear and our freaking hope.

Because when the system starts acting like a bad landlord, sometimes you have to bang on the door until somebody answers.

Until next time friends.