As massive crowds in the downtowns of large cities made national headlines for participating in ‘No Kings’ protests on Saturday, people also took to small town streets and county highways in rural southwestern Minnesota.
Hundreds lined up outside a Kwik Trip in Cokato (population 2,782), along a Main Street in Hutchinson (population 14,599), and atop a county highway pass in Glencoe (population 5,744).
These gatherings were three out of over 2,700 rallies in urban and rural areas across all 50 U.S. States, many of which were organized by the national nonprofit Indivisible Project. Together, protesters made up an estimated 7 million, according to organizers. Their shared goal: to voice their frustrations with the administration of President Donald Trump.
Related: Thousands march in local ‘No Kings’ protest in Minneapolis
Unlike protests in urban areas that went blue in 2024, these three Minnesota protests took place in counties that voted overwhelmingly for Trump in 2024. Counterprotesters were present at each rally but did not dampen the spirits of protesters, who took the opposition in stride. Responding to a middle finger and a “F*** you” from a car passing the Cokato protest, one protester yelled back, “Love you too!”
Protesters expressed disapproval of cuts to rural healthcare, tariffs that hurt farmers, unlawful ICE deportations, and mass firings of federal employees. Trump’s personal conduct was also a hot topic, with many protesters calling out allegations of sexual assault and demanding the release of the Epstein files. “I think he’s an extremely scary man,” said Glencoe resident and protester Jake Heitz.
Above and beyond these individual issues an overarching theme emerged: the sense that the Trump administration was eroding the country’s democracy, and that they had a responsibility to fight for it.
In response to Republican leaders calling the protests “hate America” rallies, protesters expressed that their fight was fundamentally American.
“It’s actually the most pro-American thing you can do to get out here and make your voice heard,” said Alan Olsen, a former forester with the Department of National Resources who made a short drive to the Glencoe protest from the farm where he works in rural Plato, Minnesota.
“That’s what we do in this country. We argue. We discuss. And then we move on and try to solve problems that we have,” said Olsen.
Protesters expressed urgency in responding to the Trump administration’s attacks on free speech and freedom of the press. Learning that I was a journalist, a protester in Cokato pointed at me saying if they don’t stop the attacks, “you’ll be worthless.”
“We need to stand up and speak out against what’s happening in this country, against immigrants, against minorities, against people of color, against women, against people who don’t have the same religion as we do,” said Jane Fitzer, who drove to the Cokato protest with her partner Cris Phillips from their nearby farm. The pair said they were a bit late because they had been milking that morning.
On top of Fitzer’s concerns, Phillips added that he was protesting the President’s harmful actions to farmers. “I do not understand how farmers can support a gentleman,” Phillips paused, “well, he’s not a gentleman: a person who cuts into our profits.”
A fellow farmer from Buffalo Lake (population 733), Terry, only comfortable sharing his first name, hopped straight off his tractor to join the estimated crowd of 400 in Hutchinson. Though Terry doesn’t identify as a Democrat or a Republican, he came out to protest the Trump administration’s tariffs on soybeans and corn, which he said have already hurt his business greatly. He also voiced concern about the deportation of immigrant farm workers. “You see migrants who help our economy and you’re shipping them off. It’s just wrong,” he said.
Terry was one of many protesters who voiced objections to mass ICE deportations at the Saturday protests. “They’re illegally kidnapping people, even our own citizens,” said one Hutchinson protester. “They’re taking them right off the street with no due process, and that’s wrong.”
Human rights were a major concern amongst protesters, from ICE deportations at home to foreign wars abroad. Some protesters waved Ukrainian flags. Others wore keffiyehs, symbols of solidarity with Palestinians facing Israeli occupation and genocide in Gaza.
One protester who declined to share their name due to fear of retaliation from their employer, said they wore their keffiyeh because they see what’s happening in Palestine and what’s happening in America as inextricably linked by the billions of tax dollars allocated to Israel by both the Biden and Trump administration, the Israeli surveillance technologies used in the militarization of American police forces, and the attacks on free speech on those who speak out about Palestine in America.
Also on the minds of protesters was healthcare. “All this cutting is going to leave rural Minnesota and rural USA with having to drive many, many miles to get any kind of healthcare,” said Stan Hoof, a Glencoe resident and protester. Though Hoof currently lives just two blocks away from his local hospital and is capable of driving further distances if the hospital were forced to close its doors, he worries for his neighbors who don’t have the proximity and access to transportation and may face healthcare challenges in light of the Trump administration’s Medicaid cuts that passed both houses of Congress in July
From healthcare to economic policy, protesters expressed a belief that Trump’s policies are hurting rural Americans. Many speculated that the people most impacted by Trump’s efforts to gut federally funded healthcare and agricultural programs could be his own supporters.
“I don’t know one person that is benefiting from [Trump’s] regime,” said Lisa Ishihara, a Hutchinson resident protesting in Glencoe.
Ishihara said she identified as a Republican before Trump took office, but the President’s actions have made her rethink things. The same was true for Dale Larson, a Vietnam War veteran who joined the protest in Cokato. “Trump is in a category by himself very different from the Republican Party or at least the Republican Party of my lifetime,” he said.
Ishihara was wearing a minion onesie, standing next to her friend Beth Todd who donned a giant panda mask and a Stephen Colbert T-Shirt. The goofy costumes, a hallmark of ‘No Kings’ protests across the country, were meant to fight hatred with humor, Todd said. “They’re calling me the terrorist and all I’m doing is standing up for their rights. In a panda costume.”
Many protesters had similar fears. Several did not want to share their names, fearing blowback from Trump-supporting neighbors or even losing their local jobs due to their political beliefs. A former federal employee, university professor, and protester with an immigrant wife were among the people I spoke with who preferred not to be identified in my reporting.
Others expressed no fear at all. “I don’t care. What are they going to do to me? I’m 70 years old,” said Mike Paulson, born, raised, and protesting in Hutchinson.
Ishihara said she wishes she felt that way. “I’m sick of being scared to voice this opinion,” she said. Attending the protest was part of her larger effort to “come out of hiding” in her community.
First-time Hutchinson protester Isaac, preferring to share only his first name, does not harbor ill will toward people in his community who voted for Trump. “I’m more than happy for anyone who voted for Trump to look at things now and be like, yeah, this is not right.”
It’s easy to feel like a “little guy” as a Democrat in a place like Hutchinson, Isaac said. That was a major reason that Hutchinson resident Andy Evenson started organizing back in February. Evenson, who helped to organize the protest in Hutchinson with his wife and other frustrated members of the community, said “it’s very important for people like me and people who show up to know that we’re not alone.”
Related: Trump’s public broadcasting cuts raise risk of radio silence in rural Minnesota
The phrase “not alone” was repeated by protesters at all three protests when discussing the importance of voicing dissent in majority-Trump areas.
Phillips, who said it has been difficult to find like-minded community in Cokato where many of his neighbors wear Make America Great Again hats, said the protest was a bright spot.
“I had no idea what we were coming into today,” he said. “But I’m proud that there’s as many [protesters] as there are.”
Even on days where there are far fewer voices of political dissent in the small town streets and on the county roads of rural Minnesota, there is solidarity. Last weekend, Paulson said he participated in a protest of just four people in Cokato.
“Even if there’s four or five of us out there, at least they know they [others in the community] have support,” he said.
This article first appeared on The Daily Yonder and is republished here under a Creative Commons Attribution-NoDerivatives 4.0 International License.
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