No Kings or Tyrants in Ottawa
A Canadian Protest
October 18, 2025 – Majors Hill Park, Ottawa
It began quietly, as Canadian protests often do — with coffee cups from Tim’s and a crowd gathering by the U.S. Embassy. Signs and laughter filled the unusually warm October air. The weather couldn’t have been better.
The people of Ottawa showed up.
There were colourful costumes — inflatable frogs, unicorns, and a few dragons — and some deeply meaningful ones: handmaids in red cloaks and white bonnets.
I was in a wheelchair, and my husband stood beside me wearing a shirt that read, “They didn’t burn witches. They burned women.” On the back: two centuries of hard-won rights, ending with the bitter line, “2025: I can’t believe I’m still protesting this shit.” It drew quiet laughter, knowing smiles, and more than one raised fist. People stopped him for photos. I took one myself — Jim standing with two women dressed as handmaids. It felt like a proper pairing.
There were hand-painted banners, homemade drums, and songs echoing through the streets — Michael Jackson’s They Don’t Really Care About Us, followed by the rising chorus from Les Misérables. Some carried small boom boxes, playing their own protest anthems.
It didn’t take long for the people inside the U.S. Embassy to notice. There must have been nearly a thousand of us, and we must have made them nervous, because embassy security soon appeared, ordering everyone off the sidewalk.
Obediently, we stepped aside — then crossed the street, still singing, still smiling. It was defiance by choreography: the dance of a democracy that refuses to yield its dignity. The police, standing nearby, didn’t face us down. They nodded — some even clapped in rhythm. The message was clear: we were not enemies here.
By the time we reached Majors Hill Park, the crowd had swelled — thousands gathered under maple trees just beginning to turn. The mood was peaceful, resolute, quintessentially Canadian. We were not shouting in anger; we were standing in witness.
For one bright afternoon, the capital sang in harmony with millions across the border.
The message was simple, ancient, and utterly human:
No kings. No tyrants. No masters. No one owns another’s body or voice.