Turns Out You Can’t Brunch Through a Coup: The Power of Small Acts
Authoritarianism doesn’t survive on brutality alone. It needs our silence. Our compliance. Our polite head-nods. Our excuses. Our “I’m just not political” shoulder shrugs.
Let me tell you a story.
Last week, someone told me—kindly, with a smile—that I was "a little too outspoken for my own good." (As if that were a bad thing.) All I’d done was push back, politely but firmly, on a casually dropped comment at brunch about “staying neutral” in today’s political climate. Neutral? Baby, this isn’t Switzerland—it’s 2025, and the United States is sliding headfirst into authoritarianism.
I didn’t start a revolution over eggs Benedict. I just refused to nod along.
That moment—small, quiet, probably forgotten by everyone else at the table—was resistance. Not the hashtag kind. Not the marching-with-a-sign kind. But the kind that Czech dissident Václav Havel called living within the truth. The kind that starts with the individual who refuses to lie—even when everyone else seems to prefer it.
And honestly? This is where it all begins.
Authoritarianism Doesn’t Arrive with a Bang. It Slips in Through the Back Door.
Havel wrote The Power of the Powerless in 1978, under Communist rule in Czechoslovakia. He talked about a greengrocer who hangs a sign in his shop window that says, “Workers of the world, unite!” Not because he believes it. But because he’s expected to. Because everyone else does. Because not doing it might draw attention. The sign, Havel explains, becomes a kind of silent, enforced lie—one that everyone pretends to believe, even if no one really does.
Sound familiar?
In America right now, we’re watching the slow-motion collapse of our Constitution. Trump has returned to power. His inner circle includes loyalists, grifters, and billionaires with delusions of divine rule. Whole agencies are being gutted. And yet in workplaces, churches, social feeds, and family dinners, people are still trying to “keep the peace” by keeping their mouths shut.
And that’s exactly how this works.
Authoritarianism doesn’t survive on brutality alone. It needs our silence. Our compliance. Our polite head-nods. Our excuses. Our “I’m just not political” shoulder shrugs.
It needs us to hang the sign in the window—even if we know it’s bullshit.
The Dissident Life Begins at Brunch
Living like a dissident doesn’t mean going underground or wearing disguises (though if you want to rock a bandana and sunglasses, I fully support the vibe). It means refusing to live the lie.
It means not pretending everything is normal when it’s not.
It means saying, “Actually, no, I don’t think we should be cheering the dismantling of public education.”
It means not reposting the popular but untrue TikTok trend because “everyone else is doing it.”
It means calling out cruelty in your own circles—on the right and on the left.
Because here’s the hard truth: conformity is contagious. And it’s enforced by everyone—not just MAGA dads and Proud Boys, but also by your liberal friends who roll their eyes when you say “it’s nuanced.”
That’s the genius of Havel’s insight: the system isn’t just “out there.” It lives in us. In our need to fit in. In our desire to be liked. In our fear of making a scene or being kicked out of the in-group.
There Are No Bystanders in a System Like This
When a person lives “within the lie,” Havel wrote, they become part of the system that demands the lie. That means every time we stay silent, we help the lie live longer. And every time we tell the truth—even awkwardly, even alone—we chip away at its power.
Don’t underestimate the ripple effect of one voice.
Havel didn’t overthrow the regime with an army. He did it with an essay.1 And that essay sparked Solidarity in Poland, Charter 77 in Czechoslovakia, and eventually helped fuel the fall of the Iron Curtain.
Revolutions start when people start telling the truth—and refuse to stop.
What Does Resistance Look Like Today?
Living the authentic life of a dissident means:
Saying what you believe, even if your voice shakes, even if others frown.
Not ‘liking’ or reposting things you know are lies, even if they support “your side.”
Supporting others who speak out, even when it’s inconvenient.
Speaking up when someone targets the vulnerable, even if you’re the only one who does.
Protecting your own soul from the slow death of conformity.
It starts small. It always starts small.
But that’s how it works. The greengrocer takes down the sign. His neighbor notices. Someone else speaks up. And suddenly the emperor looks a little...naked.
One Last Thing
You don’t have to be loud to be brave. You don’t need a platform to make an impact. You just need to stop lying. Start living in truth—even when it’s messy.
Especially when it’s messy.
And let’s be real—if you speak your truth, someone will try to make you eat it. The dogma bullies will come, from the right or the left, depending on what truth you dared to speak. They’ll circle you like ideological bouncers, demanding you recant, clarify, or say “the right thing” the right way. You’ll be told you’re too much, too blunt, too fringe, too naïve, or (my personal favorite) problematic. But remember: authoritarian systems—whether led by presidents or policed by peer pressure—don’t survive without conformity. Your refusal to chant the approved slogans is the threat. Stay calm. Stay polite. But don’t lie. The truth is enough.
Authoritarianism thrives on lies, but it dies from exposure. Let’s be the light that shines through. 🖤
Stay loud. Stay bold. Stay American!
Join the Resistance. Share this Post. Prepare Now.
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Read that essay here, for free: "The Power of the Powerless" - Vaclav Havel (October 1978)
This I think may be your most beautiful and most powerful pamphlet page, brimming with ultra shimmery clear light energy. “Let’s be the light that shines through.”
Many years ago I was silent when I should have spoken up. I was shocked, but that’s no excuse. It ate at me for weeks. It’s never happened since. Lesson learned. Now, I’ll shoot my mouth off, even if it embarrasses my kids. No silence, no complicity.