ArcaMax

I used to believe in quiet resistance. You choose the right moments to slip wrenches into the gears without drawing the guard's attention. Movies love a covert operator like the whistleblower or the silent saboteur who knows that noise gets you caught. But we're not in the movies.

Lately, the vibes, as the kids would say, feel different. There's noise everywhere, but it's the static of political theater, of outrage manufactured for clicks, of cruelty dressed up as "tough choices."

Quiet resistance to tough choices can have logic. It can be strategic, even elegant. You keep your power close to the chest, act in ways that can't be easily labeled or dismissed. You move like water, finding the cracks in the dam. It's patient work, the kind that can outlast a single headline or administration. There is that flowing still.

But unfortunately, some quieter truths are being bulldozed. People are losing Medicaid and SNAP while billionaires buy their fourth yacht.

I used to think quiet resistance could cut through noise and that it could be a scalpel against the blunt force of corruption. But silence, even strategic silence, can look an awful lot like consent to those who benefit from it. And the people in charge? They count on that confusion.

I see folks still clinging to politeness like it's a life raft, as if courtesy will save them from the flood. But there's a difference between civility and obedience. Civility protects human dignity; obedience hands it over.

It's not that I'm throwing quiet resistance away. There's still value in the steady, unshakable defiance that doesn't always announce itself. But there are moments when quiet is mistaken for weakness, and those moments are dangerous.

Maybe it's time for something louder.

Not performative noise, like the kind that rattles windows. The kind that forces a pause in the scripted meeting. Mine this week was meeting with our city's federal lobbyists, who clarified that executive orders could get woven into grant funding.

"So, they would be trying to write in that we'd have to have built a concentration camp to get the money we'd need," I said, to a sharp intake from my fellow councilor and a blanching of faces from the lobbyists.

Because here's the truth: The people who want you quiet aren't asking out of respect. They're asking so they can go on without interference. And I don't know about you, but I have no interest in making those who want to oppress people comfortable.

Sure, quiet has its place. But when the stakes are this high, when so much harm is being done in broad daylight, quiet is a luxury we can't afford to lean on. So yes, be strategic. Yes, be smart. But don't confuse silence with strength. There's a time for whispers, and there's a time to make damn sure they hear you coming.

And that time is now. Not next year, not after the next election. Now. While they're selling off the public good to the highest bidder. At the same time, they're rewriting history to suit their power. While they're telling you that asking for healthcare, housing, and dignity is "too much."

Get louder. Get in the way. Be inconvenient. Make it impossible for them to do harm without consequence. Because they are counting on your quiet, and the only way to break their hold is to be the kind of noise they can't ignore, the kind that shakes the foundations until the whole rotten structure starts to crack.

We've tried being polite. We've tried being patient. It's time to not be ignored.

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Cassie McClure is a writer, millennial, and unapologetic fan of the Oxford comma. She can be contacted at cassie@mcclurepublications.com. To find out more about Cassie McClure and read features by other Creators Syndicate writers and cartoonists, visit the Creators Syndicate website at www.creators.com.

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