The Butcher, The Baker, The Candlestick Maker.

“What should we do? We make democracy inconvenient for those trying to destroy it.” - Christine Merser

Ok, I think we can all agree that it’s bad. Worse than we thought it was going to be, faster than we thought possible, and the urge to run away into our small lives is getting larger. Or the stress is starting to be unbearable. I actually typed other words like difficult and angst-ridden, but I think we can all agree—those ships have sailed.

Look, I, like you, was raised to believe that democracy was strong, that the foundations of this country were unshakable. Was that a lie? Or maybe just a comforting half-truth?

I’ve been thinking a lot lately about how democracies don’t collapse all at once. They aren’t toppled in one dramatic event like in the movies. They rot from the inside, quietly at first. And the people living through it often don’t realize what’s happening until the ground beneath them has already crumbled.

The rot is not just starting. That ship has sailed too. Our harbors are empty. America has been rotting for a long time, and we missed the memo, or it went to the bottom of the pile, or our lives are so full that we just didn’t see it.

But make no mistake, friends, family, and country-humans—it’s not over. Not by a long shot. But we must look it in the eye and get ready for things we still can’t conceive as possible.

I saw it happening in Hungary when I watched Hungary go the way of Viktor Orbán. I spoke with an older man in a bookstore, and he told me about the slow, methodical way Orbán consolidated power—how he used economic influence to crush independent media, how he changed election laws to ensure his party always had the advantage, how he filled the courts with loyalists.

“It didn’t happen overnight,” he told me. “It happened while people were trying to live their lives, hoping someone else would stop him.”

First they came for the socialists, and I did not speak out—because I was not a socialist. Then they came for the trade unionists, and I did not speak out—because I was not a trade unionist. Then they came for the Jews, and I did not speak out—because I was not a Jew. Then they came for me—and there was no one left to speak for me. —Martin Niemöller

But here’s the thing: history tells us that when a country is slipping into autocracy, the people who stop it aren’t usually the ones in power. It’s the neighbor next door. It’s the teacher, the butcher, the accountant, the bartender. It’s people like you and me who refuse to comply, who refuse to let the country fall without a fight.

I think about the Danish resistance in World War II, where ordinary citizens used fishing boats to smuggle thousands of Jews to safety. I think about the Italian partisans, who risked everything to print underground newspapers and sabotage Mussolini’s forces. And I think about people I know right now—an old friend who became a poll worker after 2020, a colleague who started hosting voter registration drives, a librarian who refuses to pull banned books from the shelves even as politicians threaten funding cuts. A friend who ran for the school board.

Let’s really prepare for our reality that still feels unthinkable. But every day we don’t start Plan B, we lessen our chances of stopping their Plan A. Learn from history. The time is now.

Be the Butcher, the Baker, the Candlestick Maker of Resistance.

When I sent out my post about immigration last week, Where Will We Hide Them, so many of you actually sat down and had private conversations with an immigrant you knew. You asked about their fears, their stories, their futures. And for some of you, it changed how you see what’s happening in this country.

One of my readers told me that his landscaping human said that if they were deported, they would go together, and that would be that. They were not going to live in fear. They were not going to do anything but what they have been doing—working hard, paying their taxes, hoping their children, who were born here, would want to stay after all this has come to pass. Humbling.

Another one thanked my friends, and they have a plan. They have a key to the house that has no address on it. They know what they are supposed to do, and they feel better. Perhaps more important, they have someone from the ‘other side’ to talk to.

One housekeeper said that D was the first one of her clients to even mention it. She was so happy to have her to speak with about it. Can you imagine? You clean my house, you wash my clothes, I see you every week for years, and I don’t mention it? What is wrong with all of us?

Ok, back to positive action.

Now imagine if everyone did this—not just as an act of empathy but as a call to action. Imagine if every single one of us took an immigrant under our wing and said, “If you can get away, come here. I will help.” Imagine if we built networks of support strong enough to withstand the cruelty being planned.

That’s how we win. That’s how we become the resistance that history will write about.

What if schools, which have parents’ cell numbers, sent out a code like SOSI, meaning they are trying to enter the school, and every white parent drove to the school and started protesting? What if the parents who are lawyers were armed with paperwork to stop entry? What if every public school had a plan, like they do for fires and shooters, for those good Americans still in control?

So what do we do now?

We make democracy inconvenient for those trying to destroy it.

We stop normalizing fascism. That means calling it out when we see it—at work, in our social circles, in our families. The greatest weapon autocrats have is silence. Silence is not an option. Walk out of a party. Others will follow. Someone has to be first out the door; let it be you.

We protect information. Subscribe to independent journalism, fund local news, share facts relentlessly. The first thing fascists do is attack the free press.

We refuse to comply. If they attack voting rights, we become election workers. If they ban books, we distribute them. If they try to rewrite history, we teach the truth. Sign up for something now. Get your neighbors on a special library committee to fight the paperwork that is surely on the way. Solicit a lawyer to get it ready. Be ready for what we know is coming.

We organize. Nothing changes without pressure. Support grassroots groups, show up to protests, push corporations to take a stand, and stop spending money with companies that are part of the problem, not the solution. I think this is the biggest thing we can do. Demand action from elected officials. Don’t just like that post—get on the phone and tell Chuck Schumer that he better get to the office earlier tomorrow because he sure isn’t getting it done.

We vote like democracy depends on it—because it does. And not just in presidential elections. Autocrats seize power in statehouses, in school boards, in city councils. Every election matters. And those 90 million Americans who would have voted our way—start getting them ready to vote.

And please, forward this if you think my writing is making a difference. Ask people to subscribe and act on what I suggest if it feels right. I try very hard to read everything everyone sends me, to stay positive, and to provide real things to do to resist—one American human at a time.

The fight for democracy isn’t about some future moment when we’ll have to choose between resistance and compliance.

That moment is now.

I don’t know what history will say about this era, but I do know this: when the story of America’s democracy is written, I want to be able to say I was one of the people who fought for it.

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Some inspiring stories for you to consider. More to follow.

Italy: The Women Who Smuggled Messages in Laundry Baskets

During Mussolini’s rule and later under Nazi occupation, Italian partisans waged a fierce resistance. Many were young, untrained civilians who simply refused to let fascism take hold without a fight. Women played a crucial role, particularly in smuggling information and supplies.

In Rome, Ada Gobetti, a teacher and journalist, became a leader in the resistance. She and other women would pass messages to partisans hidden in laundry baskets or stitched into clothing. Some women carried weapons under their skirts while pretending to be running errands. Entire networks of couriers, often disguised as housewives, moved intelligence between underground cells, ensuring that different groups could coordinate attacks against the fascists.

One of the most daring operations came from the Gruppi di Difesa della Donna (Women’s Defense Groups), which sabotaged supply lines and organized food relief for those hiding from the regime. They were everyday people”teachers, nurses, seamstresses”who decided they would not let Mussolini’s war machine go unchallenged.