Michael Magee stood outside the Maryland State House in his old Navy blues, a man apart from more than 500 swirling, chanting, applauding and booing protestors around him.

A gay veteran, he served 12 years in that uniform, some of them as a diversity coach to help the Navy be more inclusive. He fears the new hostility for those ideas in President Donald Trump’s reimagined America and for sailors like him.

“I gave an oath when I joined the Navy, something like the one Trump gave when he became president,” he said. “I will support and defend the Constitution of the United States.”

Like many, Magee arrived by chance at the Presidents Day protest.

Beth and Grace Libertore saw a flyer and drove from Ellicott City and Columbia, unsure of what to expect. After a neighbor mentioned it, Chris Adkins brought his son, Cameron, an Annapolis High student.

And way at the back of the crowd, a masked woman hoisted her hastily drawn guillotine and shouted she didn’t care that it was a symbol of political violence.

“You only have to worry if you’re a fascist!”

This was Annapolis on Monday — part political statement, part group therapy — as many search for a response to Trump’s disorienting mutation of America.

“The world is waiting to see if we can fix this,” organizer Eric Berg told the roaring crowd.

That is the task — for organizers of protests like the one in Annapolis, for people who attend them and for those who wish they could.

How do you turn anger, fear and frustration into something meaningful? There were no clear answers Monday, just the question.

Can America fix this?

Lawyers Mall, the granite rectangle next to the State House, is Maryland’s altar of protest.

Almost daily during the General Assembly session, people chant about reform or grievances, sometimes with help from those inside the marble halls of power and sometimes just for the spectacle of taking a stand.

Organizers of the Presidents Day event hope for more. They have an idea, but it’s akin to the modern fairy tale of a Disney movie.

“It’s kind of like Dumbo’s magic feather,” Berg said a few hours before the protest. “He didn’t need the feather to fly, it was his ears. He needed it to believe.

“If we believe in this, people will get more active.”

Berg found his feather via Reddit and a conversation led by organizers of 50501 — “50 states, 50 protests. 1 movement.” It casts Trump’s executive orders and federal firings as “anti-democratic and illegal.”

Roughly 75 people in Maryland moved from Reddit to Signal and Discord, messaging and meet-up apps. They gathered Feb. 12 in Annapolis for the first 50501 protest.

It was small and in the wrong place.

Their conversations are messy; people with little experience in making public ideas happen.

They kept the discussion off X and Facebook, owned by billionaires Elon Musk and Mark Zuckerberg. Musk is Trump’s techbro henchman with a seemingly hidden agenda, and Zuckerberg stood by him at the inauguration.

“We have a lot of people who are ex- or soon-to-be ex-federal workers, retired or active military, who are interested,” Berg said. “We’re blocking doxxing, retaliation and work consequences.”

The result was the Free State Coalition, complete with mission statement and a permit for Presidents Day.

“E pluribus unum, Maryland!” Berg shouted to the crowd. “E pluribus unum!”

Not everyone sees something to fix.

U.S. Rep. Andy Harris, Maryland’s lone Republican in Congress, says the tumult is a myth and that administration orders to pause funding and root out waste are misunderstood.

“Unsurprisingly, liberal politicians and pundits rushed to push false narratives,” he wrote to one constituent.

Protestors cast Harris as a villain.

“Andy Harris must go! Andy Harris must go!” the crowd chanted.

No one offered ideas on how to make that happen. No one called for volunteers or collected email addresses. There were no resources for fired federal workers.

The coalition wants to connect the diverse interests threatened by Trump and Musk, not create a new political organization.

“So where each of us has our own passions and strengths, we’ll cooperate,” Berg said. “It’s what’s convenient or close to us.”

In a deep-blue state, Democrats led the day’s speeches.

U.S. Sen. Chris Van Hollen, Maryland’s loudest dissenting voice, was there. Freshman congresswoman Sarah Elfreth talked about taking back the House majority in 2026. No one mentioned elections this year in the city of Annapolis and in Virginia.

Some voiced hopes Republicans would awaken, but more drawings of a guillotine might give them pause.

The disorganization is a choice, albeit a tricky one.

“There is a desire to keep it organic,” said Kelly Schiaffino, who spoke at a smaller rally in Baltimore. “We don’t want to control it, we want to empower communities across Maryland.”

It was hard not to be swept up by Monday’s enthusiasm and spontaneity.

The crowd was old and young, mostly white but also Black, profane and occasionally poetic. A masked man in overalls held an upside-down U.S. flag above his head for most of the two-plus hours.

“Yeah, my arm’s really getting tired,” he said.

Anne Arundel County Executive Steuart Pittman only heard about the protest Sunday and still became the lead speaker.

He told the crowd he’s helping constituents cope with the disruption. His county relies on $36 million in federal funding for everything from public health to public safety, and county schools get another $96 million.

Yet he’s a former horse trainer and community activist who ran for office when no one thought he could win. He egged on the crowd, telling them they could fix this together.

“Can we win?” he asked, earning loud cheers.

Offstage, he looked around and assessed the shortcomings and potential present on a sunny winter’s day.

“I think this is just starting,” the Democrat said. “My grassroots organizer instincts are telling me all the right ingredients are here.”