October 18th, 2025, just about any and every town, USA:

History was made as millions of Americans took to the streets in mass protest against the Trump Administration’s authoritarian policies and autocratic unilateral decision-making, more strongly reminiscent of a tyrannical monarch than an elected official. All totaled, there were 2,700 such rallies held throughout the country, with nearly 7 million total recorded attendees, comprising about 2% of the entire US population. Those are the official numbers anyway. The actual number of attendees could be somewhat higher, given that many participants, including myself, didn’t formally register for the event; they simply found a local protest and showed up.

This most recent October rally was the second massive wave of protests held by No Kings - a network of progressive organizations fighting against Trump’s agenda. The first rally was held back in June.

Sometimes life can seem stranger than fiction. As unexpected as a left-leaning, politically conscious, neurodivergent American living in a small Midwestern US town writing about dyspraxia might be, perhaps more so is the fact that a No Kings demonstration also occurred in that same Midwestern town–one which overwhelmingly voted for Trump in the last presidential election cycle. Thus, needless to say, I was among the attendees present. It was a welcome reprieve from the day-to-day grind, reveling in the spirit of camaraderie among friends and neighbors sharing one common goal: saving our democracy.

Actually, protesting was one of the best experiences I’ve had all year since Trump’s election and inauguration. Over the past nine months, my mental state has swung between intense fear and raging anger. It’s more than just disagreeing with the MAGA agenda. As a legally disabled person, I have lived in fear for my basic existence, knowing that I now live under leaders who believe people like me shouldn’t even exist. That’s why it felt so urgent for me to attend the No Kings protest, despite my complicated and often frustrating history with organized activism as a neurodivergent person.

Contrary to what I expected, I’ve even faced ableism within many established progressive groups, including the one organizing our local No Kings protest. In previous meetings I have attended with them, I’ve experienced being “walled out” of conversations, dismissed, ignored, and more—those telltale nonverbal signs that clearly communicate you’re really not welcome there without explicitly saying it. I guess it should really come as no surprise, given how baked-in ableism is with our entire system.

Fortunately, none of the attendees at the demonstration I attended were among those I had issues with. So I was able to converse and share camaraderie with those I was on better terms. Yet as much as I enjoyed that particular event, it all got me thinking about the general frustration I have long contended with as a politically conscious neurodivergent progressive. On the one hand, I have long strongly desired to be more directly involved with local in-person efforts to help fight for the type of change and progress that would make life so much better for neurodivergent people. Yet, at the same time, there is a grave difficulty I have in fully integrating into those spaces in a way that I can contribute meaningfully.

Part of it is overt ableism, where others seem uncomfortable with some of my intractable but otherwise harmless dyspraxic mannerisms, such as my slower speech and more detailed, nuanced way of communicating. But part of the problem is simply my natural functionality and the difficulty it creates in merging with the types of larger group interactions related to organizing and campaigning. Organized activism spaces, like many established economic sectors, simply have no role for someone who functions best autonomously and at his or her own pace. And again, just as with many professional milieus, ignorance and misunderstanding abound with regard to neurodivergent and other disabled people.

Furthermore, considering the current state of US politics, the main goal of any grassroots activism is simply to reclaim what remains of our democratic institutions from an authoritarian regime. However, my focus as a radicalized neurodivergent individual has long been on issues more relevant to genuinely advancing human culture through a socialist degrowth approach, where production emphasizes qualitative growth over quantitative growth. This shift naturally creates a wider variety of jobs that can better utilize a broader range of human talent and abilities in the cycle of economic production. Hence, my focus and interest in progressive politics is simply on another level from what any local direct activism can effectively address at the moment.

This is why I will limit my involvement in direct activism to attending rallies and protests, where they basically need as many warm bodies as possible. My most suitable role in social change, as a holistic-thinking neurodivergent introvert, is the one I am fulfilling now—writing these words. Writing and speaking on neurodiversity-informed progressive politics is my particular form of resistance. I understand that many of my ideas might not seem immediately actionable or relevant given the current state of things. Still, I hope my words will reach the hearts and minds of the right people, inspiring them to work toward a more humane, just, and equitable future for all.

Below is a link to my memoir about coming of age as a late-diagnosed dyspraxic amid the hellscape of neoliberal late-stage capitalism:

https://books2read.com/u/4NEyLY