It is a network of grey-haired women, retired union plumbers, attorneys, teachers, bosses, temp workers, home owners, twenty somethings on bikes, photographers, writers, singers, worried fathers, outraged mothers, brave clergy.
They communicate on encrypted apps, chat groups, ring camera alerts, moms’ groups, neighborhood organizations, phone trees. They are trained in non-violent de-escalation, safety protocols, legal rights.
They remember the French Resistance, the Underground Railroad, families hidden in attics. They carry gas masks, first aid kits, whistles, eye drops, know your rights cards, sharpies. Their arms are scrawled with contact numbers. They memorize makes and models – scan for men in masks and camo vests driving cars without plates.
They patrol school zones, churches, parking lots. They have become documentarians — phones held horizontally — bearing witness to violence, threats, terror, the trampling of the constitution.
It is a network of citizens fending off an army.
Amy Binns-Calvey
Forest Park