Some weeks, the news feels like an avalanche. And then, every so often, something quieter peeks through the barrage of “breaking updates”—a small act of care, a clever workaround, a reminder that resistance doesn’t always need a megaphone. 

We call it creative resistance. It’s the person documenting a museum case with their iPhone. It’s the museum staff member using bridgey words to accurately describe objects without getting flagged for censorship. 

This month, we’re highlighting a few examples of creative humans doing exactly that. 

WHAT’S HAPPENING 

Citizen historians document the Smithsonian amid uncertainty. 

As concerns grow over the future of exhibits and collections across the Smithsonian museums, citizen historians (led by Georgetown University historians) are cataloging as much as possible, room by room. Their goal is to create a visual record that can’t be erased.

This grassroots effort echoes the “Save Our Signs” movement we covered back in July: everyday people stepping in to preserve what federal agencies may soon remove or “reinterpret.” The scale looks different this time, but the heart is the same: if you love history, take care of it.

Guerrilla art reclaims public spaces. 

Steps away on the Smithsonian-lined National Mall, an anonymous art collective known as “The Secret Handshake” installed a satirical bronze-style statue of Donald Trump and Jeffrey Epstein holding hands, titled “Best Friends Forever.” Whether you found it biting, bizarre, or both, its public presence was the whole point.

As you can imagine, the statue didn’t last long. But the photos will. 

In an era of increasingly politicized “official memory,” these unofficial memorials become a powerful counterweight. Public art is a meaningful way for people to express dissent, critique, and even humor in tense times. 

Banksy’s latest piece becomes performance art, courtesy of the British government.

Banksy’s recent mural on the wall of the Queen's Building, in the Royal Courts of Justice, drew attention on its own, but what happened next drew even more. Attempts by British officials to hide, scrub, and “repair” the wall only emphasize the artwork’s critique.  

When pieces like this and “Best Friends Forever” get taken down within hours, the removal becomes part of the performance. Sometimes censorship reveals more than it hides—and trying to silence a message only amplifies it.

And then… the beloved Portland frog.

At protests and rallies across Relicura’s hometown of Portland, a new (and delightfully unexpected) symbol of resistance has emerged: giant inflatable frogs. They’re cute. They’re wobbly. And somehow, they’ve become one of the most effective ways to bring the temperature down.

They interrupt the script, making it harder to force a narrative of escalating unrest. And, for a moment, they remind us we’re all human beings sharing a sidewalk rather than opposing chess pieces.

Their presence is light. The impact isn’t.

Sometimes, resistance is documentation. Sometimes it’s satire. And sometimes it’s… well, a giant inflatable frog planted squarely in front of an ICE building, simply existing and lightening the mood.

WHAT WE CAN DO 

Not every form of resistance requires a protest sign. Some of the most meaningful movements start small: notice what’s changing, snap a photo, screenshot something before it disappears. 

Here are a few simple ways you can get involved:

• Join the Citizens Archivist Movement and document exhibits and signage at museums and public spaces in your community. 

• Read and spread stories of hope and creative resistance (like the ones we shared today) to inspire others. 

• Observe creatively. Pay attention to what’s changing, or slowly disappearing, where you live. Photograph things before they get “reinterpreted.” 

• Share with others. History is harder to rewrite or erase when it’s documented by many, far and wide. 

Remember: your presence alone is a form of witness. As the Portland frog reminds us, resistance can be joyful, too.

IN CONCLUSION 

As historians, archivists, and lovers of the past, our job has always been to bear witness: to notice what others overlook and keep records that others might attempt to erase.

This month reminds us we’re not alone in that work. People everywhere are documenting, creating, laughing, archiving, and resisting—in creative ways, big and small. 

As always, we’re grateful to do that work alongside you.

This blog post content was originally included in our community newsletter: The Moment -- where we respond quickly and thoughtfully to impactful events and decisions that challenge or disrupt our profession.