They say a play is only as convincing as its stage. The walls, the lighting, and the architecture all shape what the actors can do. Protest is no different. The tactics you choose, the symbols you carry, the cadence you adopt echo something deeper: the memory, the wound, the pride of the land.
In Portland, you might ride nearly naked past federal agents, waving at onlookers in inflatable frog suits. In Chicago, you might hear a hymn rise from a circle of clergy, a sermon delivered between flash bangs. Neither approach is better, but one would feel deeply wrong in the other place…