Normally a honk startles me, signifying that I have been inattentive or inadvertently rude to a fellow driver. Minnesotans seldom honk, sitting far longer than others behind that inattentive driver who is studying his or her phone at a light that has turned green. After a while they might gently tap on their horn as if to whisper “Excuse me, the light is green.”
Honks have taken on a new meaning for me as part of my weekly vigil at a protest near our condo. Every Tuesday, people from our condo building gather with signs as we try to capture the eyes of passing cars, soliciting honks and waves from fellow citizens who share our concern about our shrinking democracy.
In the process I have experienced a camaraderie with my neighbors, and with the occupants of those passing cars, however fleeting. I stand there with my sign and lock eyes with a driver.
“Yes, you, I’m looking at you!”
Then I have a silent dialogue with them as I coax a honk.
“Come on, I know you want to! Come on, come on, give it a tap!”
I follow their car with my eyes, moving my sign to follow their vehicle down the street. Often I’m rewarded with a belated tap as they absorb our purpose. The more timid amongst us may give a wave. I wave back with an encouraging nod. Next time perhaps they’ll honk. Then there are those that lean on the horn, honking loudly down the street or do a tap, tap, tap rhythm down the block, clearly sharing our message. Others lift their hands from the wheel in a gesture of support causing me to worry that they don’t have their vehicle under control. We’ve had cars go by with passengers hanging out the window with both thumbs up.
I study the occupants of those passing cars to try to discern the patterns. Are they minorities, women, young men? Are they someone I would expect to honk based on race or gender? Sometimes I’m surprised. I examine the vehicles, assuming pick-up trucks are less likely to honk or vehicles with a business purpose where one might have more caution. I whoop with joy when a postman taps his horn.
I often wonder about those who don’t honk or those who speed by as if in a hurry to exit this zone. I’ve seen two cars with a thumbs down through weeks of protests and wondered who are these people? Are they rejecting the sign that says Honk for Democracy or is it the No Kings sign? Or is it just their team versus our team?
I often consider what this accomplishes. For me, it assures me that I am part of a larger community that shares my concern. Showing up is an action in itself, building community, yet another. Each person that honks or responds is reminded that they’re not alone. That first gesture is a step forward into the next action. And it’s easier to do that in community.
This week we went to our local No Kings protest. As we walked to the gathering point, we joined up with a woman walking with a sign. There was instant camaraderie, as we obviously were going to the same destination. She shared that this was her first protest, then added that she was 80 and her kids were a little worried about her. As we approached the area, we heard a cacophony of horns honking, creating shared melodies, encouraging each other to lay on their horn with joyful abandon. You would never have known it was Minnesota!
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