Michigan
She was a one-woman protest in Michigan’s Trump country, but not alone
On a warm June day, as crowds of thousands gathered in Detroit and Grand Rapids to protest the policies of President Donald Trump, a lone woman marched up and down the few blocks that make up her city’s downtown.
Sign in hand, 70-year-old Cindy Hull was a one-woman No Kings Day protest in Croswell, a roughly 2,000-person city seated in the longtime, deeply red Sanilac County in the Thumb of a state that Trump won in 2024.
Half a year later, about 90 protesters gathered on a freezing day in Howell, a nearly 10,000-person city in the Republican stronghold of Livingston County.
Anti-Trump protests in a red county can be both subtly and distinctly different than those in liberal haunts, smaller in size but seemingly subject to more obvious — and, in at least one case, dangerous — objection.
Yet increasingly across the country, they appear to be taking place.
Researchers from the Crowd Counting Consortium, a joint project by Harvard and the University of Connecticut that collects data on crowd sizes, have found a sustained reach into Trump country that wasn’t seen during his first term.
Protests, on average, were held in counties that went to Trump across the majority of months the consortium analyzed on the topic, confirmed consortium co-founder and University of Connecticut political science professor Jeremy Pressman.
“Nationally, there are more protests, they are more spread out, and more people are turning out,” he said.
For some protesters, demonstrating near home simply makes them feel safer.
For others, protesting in red areas feels more important than marching in bigger protests in more liberal areas.
“They need to hear it more than anybody,” Hull said of those in her red county.
A changing model for protests
Data shows there has been some movement away from a model of going to Washington, DC, or other big cities for protests, said Pressman of the Crowd Counting Consortium.
Since the Women’s March in 2017, the consortium has collected reports on crowd sizes from sources that include news groups and social media posts. They then make it available to the public, listing both the high and low estimates for a crowd’s size.
It’s not exact work. If sources use general terms, like “dozens” or “hundreds,” to describe a crowd, the team takes a conservative approach, translating that into “24” or “200” in their listing, Pressman said. They’ve also improved their method over time, meaning exact comparisons can’t always be made between earlier recordings and the present day.
But the consortium has deduced that protests have moved into previously unreached counties.
Hull’s protest wasn’t included in the 2025 data, but neither were any prior anti-Trump protests in her county. Trump won there by a margin of more than 45 percentage points in 2024.
And John Llewellyn, chair of the Newaygo County Republican Party and a former state representative, said he hasn’t seen such protests in his area since the end of the Vietnam War.
Newaygo County, another longtime Republican stronghold, also voted for Trump by a margin of more than 40 percentage points in 2024.
Still, Llewellyn wasn’t surprised to see the gatherings.
He said the participants are solid Democrats who everyone knows, an idea with which organizers for Indivisible Newaygo County disagreed.
Not just one-offs
Protests aren’t just reaching Trump country but sticking around, according to the data.
Hull hasn’t marched solo in Sanilac County again, opting to travel elsewhere because she had a ride, but the swath of land in front of the historic Livingston County Courthouse saw multiple protests in 2025, and Indivisible Newaygo also reported multiple demonstrations.
Trump’s first term saw protests reach deep into Trump country at select times, but the instances were one-offs instead of a holding trend, the consortium found. In 2025, that reach, indeed, became a trend.
Additionally, the size of the crowds increased.
As of August 2025, counties where Trump won by at least 5 percentage points in the 2024 election had seen more protesters come out as compared with 2017, according to data from the consortium.
The average grew from two to seven protesters per 10,000 residents.
Lonely in a red community
Hull was disturbed that immigration arrests in her area didn’t result in protests. She wants her neighbors to know there are people in the community who will stick up for them.
She carried a sign that day in June that read, “Hands Off,” with a list including immigrants, free speech, SNAP and LGBTQ+ individuals. A photo of her and the sign wound up in the Sanilac County News.
Organizing group Indivisible Newaygo County also held protests in their red county as opposed to heading to the bigger, bluer Grand Rapids, said Michelle Petz, part of the group’s planning team.
“We need to show up in this county, so people don’t feel alone,” she said. “For too long, it has felt like there is just one party here, and it is red, and that is not the case. And so, this is a bringing together of community and like-minded people that are very distressed about what is going on.”
Sara Lane, chair of the Alpena County Democratic Party, reported seeing about 300 people come out for their June and October 2025 gatherings in the county that went to Trump by a margin of 29. Some counterprotesters came out, too.
Lane doesn’t see her work as coaxing over Republicans, but if staunch Republicans want to see another side, her group is there.
“I can show you something different than you’ve been exposed to before,” she said. “If you go through all that and you stay through that and you stay where you are … that’s OK.”
Rebecca Hilla, 46, of Hartland, felt safer going to protests in Howell with her son than going elsewhere. It’s not that there’d be more danger in a big city given the political vitriol everywhere, but she felt comfort being surrounded by those already willing to put a target on their backs in a red community. Livingston County went to Trump with a margin of 24 percentage points.
“They’re out there to protect everybody’s kids,” Hilla said of the protesters there.
Smaller, local rallies matter to residents, said Kate Naden, the organizer of an October 2025 No Kings Day rally in Macomb County’s Romeo.
A key swing county, Macomb gave Trump a win by a margin of 14 percentage points over Harris in 2024 and served as the venue when Trump marked his first 100 days in office.
There were still more than 300 people present as Naden’s October rally wound down, and elsewhere in the county, in Sterling Heights, thousands gathered the same day.
Through the eyes of Republicans
Speaking shortly after those Macomb County rallies in October — which saw two men on opposing sides seek out a possible friendship — the chair of the Macomb County GOP expressed a belief that protesters were bused into the area by the Democratic Party. He also raised concerns about protesters being paid.
“I don’t know that anybody is participating from our county,” Gus Ghanam said. “If they are, I’d be shocked; our county’s doing very well.”
No protesters reported to the Free Press getting payments or being bused in.
Llewellyn of the Newaygo County Republican Party said both that trying to rally people is what political parties do and that “people like to do trendy stuff.”
And while protests aren’t new to Howell, which saw both Ku Klux Klan rallies and pushback in the ‘90s, an acceleration in protests isn’t shocking, said longtime resident and Livingston County Republican Party Chair Deb Drick.
Trump is aggressive, and every action has an equal and opposite reaction, she said.
She thinks protesters are aiming to convince swing voters and the independents in her county to join their cause, but she thinks their message isn’t helping them.
“Half those signs are just silly,” she said. “When you’re protesting a woman’s death, saying ‘(Expletive) Trump’ is not the way to do it. That’s not the message that you’re trying to get across. It could be ‘ICE needs training’ or ‘ICE needs to back off.’ … Every single time a Democrat loses their mind and flies off the handle, they send another independent or swing voter my way, so have at it, people.”
A change of heart?
Neither Drick, in Livingston County, nor Monroe County Republican Party Chairman Todd Gillman believes that the protests in their area are indicative of locals being swayed away from their support of the Republican Party or Trump.
Trump won Monroe handily in the last three elections, but Gillman said it used to be more purple than it is now.
“I don’t think it’s a representative of Monroe, I think it’s a representative of a small part of Monroe,” Gillman said of the anti-Trump protests.
It’s the beauty of being an American that people can peacefully protest whatever they want, he said. Good or bad, Trump elicits a lot of emotion.
Thy neighbor
Stepping back slightly from the curb shortly after a silver truck swerved toward the crowd of protesters in the median in Howell, Rachel Bennett, 31, apologized for being a bit distracted. She was still shaken up.
Bennett loves her city. She thinks it’s a beautiful place with a close-knit community.
“But Howell can be so nasty, I think it’s really important I’m here,” she said outside the historic Livingston County Courthouse that day in January.
She knows Republicans, knows that they are not evil and wants to try to reach those on the fence.
Protesters in red counties shared similar mixed reviews of living there. Many said they loved their neighbors, but some said they disliked raising a family amid toxic politics. Several said they had friends who were Republican, but some also said they didn’t talk politics with those friends.
Hull was surprised to get so many thumbs up when she did her solo protest in Sanilac County. Of course, some “yahoos” sent black tailpipe smoke her way, and the husband of a fellow churchgoer got “blustery” over not needing a handout himself, she said.
In Howell, the level of friction wasn’t as obvious standing back near the 19th-century courthouse, but, from the median, drivers in about every third car could be seen flashing obscene gestures, giving a thumbs down or otherwise showing their displeasure. A man parked in front of the island and walked around filming the crowd; some protesters blocked his path and called him names.
A week later, Bennett was still shaken by the truck that swerved at her and was fighting feelings of defeat. The day it happened, however, she sought to give the driver the benefit of the doubt. She thought back to times she’d had to watch her language while protesting in her own community.
“It was probably heat of the moment,” she said. “I hope he’s regretting it.”
Michigan
Man arrested for firing shots outside Michigan domestic violence center
Michigan
I discovered anti-Zionism at the University of Michigan. I’m glad it lives on there
Pro-Palestinian demonstrators gather for a mock trial against the University of Michigan’s Board of Regents on the university’s campus in Ann Arbor, Michigan, on April 21, 2025. Photo by Jeff Kowalsky / AFP / Getty Images
At the University of Michigan’s recent commencement ceremony, history professor Derek Peterson delivered a five-minute speech in which he celebrated all those who have fought for justice at the university, my alma mater. Invoking our legendary sports-focused fight song, he asked the crowd to “sing” for suffragist Sarah Burger, who battled to get women admitted as students; for Moritz Levi, Michigan’s first Jewish professor; for all the students who fought for racial justice at Michigan as part of the Black Action Movement; and for the “pro-Palestinian student activists, who have over these past two years opened our hearts to the injustice and inhumanity of Israel’s war in Gaza.”
Peterson’s address was a historian’s invitation to every student and parent in the Ann Arbor stadium to recognize that the fight for Palestinian rights shares roots with our greatest movements for justice, including the struggle against antisemitism.
The backlash, predictably, was swift. The university’s president apologized; the speech was condemned by pro-Israel Jewish organizations and outlets; and I know it upset many college parents, my Gen X peers — we who were raised to believe with all our hearts that Jewish identity and Zionist identity are inextricable.
But to me, Peterson’s speech was a reminder of one of the most important lessons I took away from my time at the University of Michigan: that questioning Zionism is a necessary part of any Jewish life that aims to center justice.
I graduated from Michigan in 1989, and spent much of my last year in Ann Arbor ensconced at Hillel, where I edited a magazine for Jewish students. I’d grown up going to Young Judaea summer camps and had spent a college semester in Israel, where I’d witnessed the beginning of the first Intifada. I returned to find a shanty in the middle of campus that had been erected, a student organizer told our magazine, “to bring the uprising to the community. It is to show the conditions of the Palestinians and the brutal oppression of the Israeli army.”
The shanty evoked those then prevalent on campuses everywhere to symbolize the struggle of Black South Africans against settler colonialism and apartheid. The new shanty on our campus asserted that these words also applied to Israel.
While I was strongly against the Israeli occupation of the West Bank and Gaza — where Israel would not remove any settlements until 2005 — I was distressed and confused by the shanty’s silent, everpresent message about Israel’s past and present. Is Israel an apartheid state, I wondered?
So I put that question on the cover of our magazine.
The Hillel director called me into his office and somberly expressed his concern. But Hillel International had not yet officially clamped down on student activities that question Israel and Zionism.
So our cover story ran and we dropped our magazine in bundles across campus. At the time, I thought of myself as a liberal Zionist, and I secretly rooted for the student who tried to disprove the devastating charge. But as young journalists, my fellow magazine staffers and I were committed to exploring the views of those who erected the shanty, no matter their hostility to Zionism. We didn’t code the hostility as danger. No one thought we should report our ideological opponents — the kids who fell asleep on their books in the library just like we did — to the dean or to the government for arrest or deportation.
Over my time as an undergraduate, I’d come to recognize in these kaffiyeh-clad Palestinian, Arab, and Muslim students the same history-minded, righteous hope that animated me.
Decades later, in the spring of 2024, we all watched as pro-Palestinian student activists — including many Jewish students — set up campus encampments around the country to protest Israel’s assault on Gaza. At Michigan, the encampment was set up on the Diag, the university’s public square, where on the day of my own graduation I’d protested the university’s military research. As the mother of a recent college grad, I was humbled by the determination of these kids, who put up tents, organized teach-ins, and then suffered as police turned off their bodycams and used pepper spray against them. They were lawfully protesting for the university to divest from Israel as it bombed the people of Gaza, the children of Gaza — which is now home to the largest number of child amputees in modern history.
What I understand, and Professor Peterson understands, is that the student activists that he lauded at the commencement are fighting not against Jewish life but for Palestinians’ right to survive daily, as people, and as a people. These activists have asked us to understand, finally, that Zionism is what it does.
“It has been hard work to examine my own mind,” Tzvia Thier, a Jewish Israeli mother, wrote in an essay in the 2021 collection A Land With A People: Palestinians and Jews Confront Zionism. As a child, Thier immigrated to Israel from Romania in the wake of the Holocaust. In 2009, Thier accompanied her daughter to “protect” her while she joined an action to fight the evictions of Palestinians from their homes in the Jerusalem neighborhood of Sheikh Jarrah. Thier was 65, and realized that it was the first time in her life that she had had conversations with Palestinians. She understood then that “it was not my daughter who needed to be protected, but the Palestinians.”
“Many questions leave me wondering how I could have not thought about them before,” she wrote. “My solid identity was shaken and then broken. I have been an eyewitness to the systematic oppression, humiliation, racism, cruelty, and hatred by ‘my’ people toward the ‘others.’ And what you finally see, you can no longer unsee.”
When that shanty went up on Michigan’s campus in the late ’80s, I began to question all that I’d learned about Israel’s founding. I began to question the very idea of an ethnostate — in the name of any people, anywhere — that enshrines the supremacy of one group of people over another.
By the time I became a mother, I’d become anti-Zionist. I understood — with a grief that does not abate — that, as Jews, our history of oppression has become an alibi for Israel’s oppression of the Palestinian people.
We must reject the bad faith accusations of antisemitism that have emptied the word of meaning and enabled authoritarian repression. When students on campuses today charge Israel with apartheid and genocide, they are echoing reports from B’Tselem, Israel’s leading human rights organization. I ask the parents of my generation to read these reports and do as Thier did — to allow themselves to see what we have not wanted to see.
I stand with the more than 2,000 University of Michigan faculty, staff, students and alumni who have condemned the university’s response to the commencement address heard round the world.
For the sake of all of our children, I ask that we each do all we can to open our community’s heart to Palestinian history and humanity. That we each join the urgent struggle for the liberation of the Palestinian people.
This is the way that our Jewish college kids will find the deep and true safety of community: by leaving hatred, fear, and isolation behind; by honoring Jewish history by standing in solidarity with all who are oppressed; and by roaring in a stadium for freedom and justice, along with their entire generation.
You are surely a friend of the Forward if you’re reading this. And so it’s with excitement and awe — of all that the Forward is, was, and will be — that I introduce myself to you as the Forward’s newest editor-in-chief.
And what a time to step into the leadership of this storied Jewish institution! For 129 years, the Forward has shaped and told the American Jewish story. I’m stepping in at an intense time for Jews the world over. We urgently need the Forward’s courageous, unflinching journalism — not only as a source of reliable information, but to provide inspiration, healing and hope.
Support our mission to tell the Jewish story fully and fairly.

Michigan
Thumb Coast Electric earns Michigan 50 Companies to Watch honor
Thumb Coast Electric has been named a 2026 Michigan 50 Companies to Watch Award recipient, according to a community announcement recognizing high‑growth, second‑stage businesses across the state.
The Port Huron‑based electrical contractor was honored April 22 during the 22nd annual Michigan Celebrates Small Business Gala, where company representatives were recognized onstage alongside other awardees before an audience of more than 800 business owners and supporters.
The award is presented by Michigan Celebrates Small Business, which annually recognizes companies that demonstrate strong growth potential, sustainable competitive advantages and a commitment to their communities. Thumb Coast Electric is listed among the 2026 honorees in the Michigan 50 Companies to Watch category.
Recognizing second‑stage growth
The Michigan 50 Companies to Watch Award honors second‑stage companies — defined as businesses with six to 99 full‑time‑equivalent employees and annual revenue or working capital between $750,000 and $50 million — that are privately held and headquartered in Michigan.
“These companies represent the future of Michigan’s economy,” said Brian Calley, president and CEO of the Small Business Association of Michigan, which partners in the awards program. He said the designation recognizes businesses that combine consistent growth with strong workplace culture and community impact.
Judges from economic and entrepreneurship development organizations across the state select winners based on employee or sales growth, sustainable competitive advantage and other indicators of long‑term success. Award finalists also undergo a due‑diligence review before final selections are made.
Community and company culture
Thumb Coast Electric representative Erica Chisholm said the recognition reflects both employee dedication and community support.
“Receiving the Michigan 50 Companies to Watch award is a huge honor because it reflects the hard work our team puts in every day and the support we’ve had from our community,” Chisholm said, according to the announcement. She said the company has focused on sustainable growth, investing in its workforce and maintaining quality standards as it expands.
Michigan Celebrates Small Business launched the 50 Companies to Watch program in 2004 and has honored more than 1,200 businesses statewide over the past two decades.
This story was created by Dave DeMille, ddemille@gannett.com, with the assistance of Artificial Intelligence (AI). Journalists were involved in every step of the information gathering, review, editing and publishing process. Learn more at cm.usatoday.com/ethical-conduct.
-
Business2 minutes agoDisney’s ABC challenges FCC, escalating fight over free speech
-
Entertainment8 minutes agoWriters Guild staff union reaches deal, ending strike after nearly three months
-
Lifestyle14 minutes agoHe’s your ex, not your son. Unconditional love does not apply
-
Politics20 minutes agoCommentary: For all the chatter by mayoral candidates, can anyone fix L.A.’s enduring problems?
-
Sports32 minutes agoPrep talk: Southern Section Division 1 semifinals features matchup of boys’ volleyball powers
-
World44 minutes agoEurope Day: 40 years of ties between Spain and the European Union
-
News1 hour agoFrontier Airlines plane hits person on runway during takeoff at Denver airport
-
New York3 hours agoMan Dies in Subway Attack; Mamdani Orders Inquiry Into Suspect’s Release From Bellevue