When things get bleak, making something is its own kind of resistance.
Fascism thrives on silence, fear, and erasure. It wants control—not just over laws and policies, but over culture, expression, and imagination. And when the world feels like it’s closing in, creative action can be a quiet, steady way to push back. You don’t need to be a trained artist or a full-time activist. You just need a little time, a few supplies, and the willingness to make something that says, I’m still here.
This isn’t about going viral or making something perfect. It’s about using your hands, your voice, or your printer to chip away at the machinery of control. These small projects let you show up, speak out, and share what matters without asking permission. Whether it’s a zine on a café table or a sticker slipped into a library book, the act of making becomes an act of resistance. Even tiny things can remind people they’re not alone.
1. Print-your-own protest stickers let you spread messages anywhere.
Sometimes you don’t have time for a rally, but you’ve got time to slap a sticker on a bus stop. A cheap label printer, a glue stick, or even a few sheets of paper and tape is all you need to start making tiny messages that travel. Print slogans, resources, or quotes. Keep it blunt or get weird—whatever keeps eyes on the issue.
You can stick them in bathroom stalls, crosswalk poles, street signs, or any place that people pause. It’s subtle, persistent protest that doesn’t rely on big audiences or social media algorithms. Hannah Awcock, writing in Area, explains that protest stickers have long been used to spread radical messages, disrupt dominant narratives, and promote social movements beyond mainstream channels.
2. Chalk stencils speak up in public space without leaving a trace.
Sometimes you want to say something loud, but keep it temporary. That’s where chalk and stencils come in. You can cut a design out of an old folder or cereal box, lay it on the sidewalk, and fill it in with chalk or spray-on chalk paint. Frank LoMonte and Paola Fiku write in the Vermont Law Review that chalk art has long been used as a tool for activism, offering a fast, public way to share messages without permanent impact.
Whether it’s a symbol, phrase, or website, a sidewalk message feels bold without causing damage. You’re not defacing anything—you’re participating in the space, even if only for a moment. And because it fades, you can keep making new ones. It’s activism that travels, vanishes, and still sticks with people long after they’ve passed by.
3. Zines let you bypass the algorithm and reach real people.
Social media posts disappear in a feed. A zine? It gets passed around, tucked into books, handed out in coffee shops, left on bus seats. These tiny, handmade publications are raw, imperfect, and wildly personal—which makes them powerful. You can write, draw, collage, rant—whatever gets your point across.
Use a copier, printer, or just staple some pages together by hand. It doesn’t have to look polished to hit hard. The Westport Library notes that zines have long been used by marginalized communities to tell their own stories, share uncensored ideas, and organize for social change. They don’t rely on approval, clicks, or reach. You print it, you spread it, and it exists on your terms.
4. Button-making lets you wear your message anywhere.
A tiny pin on your jacket can say a lot. Whether it’s a phrase, a protest, or just a symbol of solidarity, buttons are small but loud. You can grab a cheap button-maker or print designs and slip them into clear plastic badge holders. Either way, it’s an easy, repeatable project that puts your message out into the world.
They’re great conversation starters, but they also work as quiet signals—reminders to people around you that they’re not alone. You can hand them out, leave them in free boxes, or trade them with others. And when things feel heavy, sitting down to design one little thing you believe in can feel weirdly grounding. It’s protest you can wear. And sometimes, that’s enough to start a ripple.
5. Window signs reclaim your space as a visible stand against hate.
When public expression feels risky, your window becomes your platform. A handmade sign in your window—whether it says “No hate here,” lists resources, or simply displays a symbol—tells passersby where you stand. It’s one of the safest ways to make resistance visible in daily life.
It doesn’t have to be fancy. Cardboard, markers, paper, or printed graphics all work. Change them out when you want to say something new, or keep one up as a constant reminder that your home is a space that resists. In neighborhoods where people feel isolated or afraid, even one window sign can make someone feel less alone. And in places where silence is the norm, that visibility matters more than ever.
6. Poetry drops turn personal words into public reminders.
Not everyone wants to yell—but a quiet poem left behind on a park bench, cafe table, or library shelf can hit just as hard. Poetry drops are handwritten or printed notes with poems, quotes, or short messages that speak to resistance, grief, joy, or survival. They’re left intentionally for strangers to find.
There’s no right way to do it. Scribble on an index card, type up a stanza, or tear pages out of a homemade booklet. Leave them in coat pockets at thrift stores or tucked into community bulletin boards. It’s not about going viral—it’s about surprise and connection. Even if you never see the impact, someone will. And in a world that’s trying to flatten everything into fear or obedience, a few honest words can still cut through the noise.
7. Care packages for strangers remind people they’re not disposable.
Mutual aid doesn’t need to be big or complicated. A small care package—granola bars, hygiene items, a handwritten note—can mean everything to someone struggling. Keep a few in your bag or car to hand out or leave in community fridges and free pantries. It’s not charity. It’s solidarity.
You’re not fixing poverty, but you are refusing to look away. And in a system that punishes the poor and criminalizes need, showing up with care is quietly radical. Add a sticker, a flyer, or just a message that says “You matter.” The world tells some people they’re invisible. This is a way to say, I see you—and I haven’t given up.
8. Upcycled fashion flips consumerism the middle finger.
Fast fashion feeds off speed, waste, and exploitation. Taking old clothes and turning them into something new isn’t just thrifty—it’s resistance to a system that profits off environmental collapse and underpaid labor. Whether you’re patching jeans, painting jackets, or turning thrift finds into something totally weird and personal, you’re refusing the pressure to buy more to be more.
You don’t have to be a designer. Start small. Add words to a canvas tote, embroider a patch onto a hoodie, or stitch together scraps into something no one else has. It’s not about aesthetics—it’s about ownership. You decide what your clothes say, how long they last, and what kind of story they tell. And that kind of personal rebellion? It wears well.
9. Public art swaps let you trade creativity instead of currency.
Capitalism tells us art only matters if it’s monetized. A public art swap pushes back by letting people create, share, and connect without a price tag. It can be as simple as hanging a clipboard in a community center or library that says “Take one, leave one.” You add a drawing, poem, collage, or mini painting—and someone else does too.
No judging, no selling, no follower counts. Just a quiet, rotating collection of things people made with their hands and chose to share. You can leave a stack of tiny prints at a coffee shop or tape envelopes labeled “free art” to street poles. The point isn’t perfection—it’s generosity. These small creative exchanges remind people that art doesn’t have to be exclusive or commodified. It just has to exist. And in a system that assigns value to everything, making something for the sake of connection is quietly radical.
10. Journaling privately is still a powerful act of rebellion.
Not everything has to be shared. In a world that demands constant output, keeping a journal for yourself—just you, just your thoughts—is deeply subversive. It’s a refusal to perform, to package your feelings, or to turn grief into content. You write what you want, when you want, and no one else gets to edit it.
That freedom builds clarity, resilience, and perspective. You don’t need a fancy notebook or a structured practice. Just show up with a pen when you can. Write one sentence or ten pages. Document the good, the rage, the confusion. It’s a space no one can take from you. And in a system that wants your energy spent, your time consumed, and your voice filtered—keeping something private and real is its own kind of power.