Dallas Reding was never one to protest. But after hearing about the Trump administration's deportation of Kilmar Abrego Garcia and others to notorious prisons abroad, he scrawled "No Foreign Gulags" on some cardboard and then taped the sign to a mop handle.

And there he was last Saturday, hoisting his makeshift placard, with some 10,000 other protesters at the State Capitol — the underpinning of Minnesotans' budding resistance to President Donald Trump.

"I wanted to feel like I was doing something," said Reding, a 43-year-old New Brighton resident. Trump "is piling up deportees without due process. If he can do it to one person, he can do it to all of us."

The steady drumbeat of nearly 140 executive orders signed by Trump in the first 100 days of his second term, as well as his controversial Cabinet picks, has stirred a collective sense of outrage among thousands across the state, a phenomenon not experienced since the murder of George Floyd nearly five years ago.

In addition to deportations, potential cuts to Social Security, Medicare, SNAP benefits and Medicaid, the slashing of federal jobs directed by billionaire Elon Musk, the chaotic imposition of tariffs and the ancillary plunge of the stock market and retirement accounts has set many on edge. Frustrated with the Democratic party, they've been wondering what, if anything, they can do.

The Hands Off Coalition in the Twin Cities, which consists of Indivisible Twin Cities, Women's March Minnesota and 50501: Minnesota, has stepped into the void.

Along with other activist groups, the coalition has organized rallies, including the April 5 Hands Off protest that attracted 25,000 people (or 43,000, depending whom you ask) to St. Paul and hundreds more throughout the state.

The volunteers behind the resistance say they have been deluged with interest, much of it coming from newbies like Reding.

"It's awesome, the sustained interest in people wanting to volunteer. Now we're very much in a building stage; we're building the scaffolding," said Ann Treacy, a board member of Women's March Minnesota, which formed after Trump was elected to his first term and took part in the 2017 Women's March — a protest that attracted millions globally.

Lisa Erbes, co-leader of Indivisible Twin Cities, which covers Minneapolis, St. Paul and the inner-ring suburbs, agrees that the anti-Trump momentum is building.

"After the election, it just exploded," Erbes said. "We were seriously inundated with hundreds and hundreds and now thousands of people trying to figure out how to get involved, what they can do to help, what they can do to protect our democracy and how to fight the Trump agenda."

A national organization, Indivisible was founded after Trump's 2016 election by three Carleton College students, who wrote a handbook for activists.

Taking a cue from the Republican Tea Party movement during the Obama administration, the 23-page "Indivisible: A Practical Guide for Resisting the Trump Agenda," was posted online in December 2016 and downloaded more than 2 million times. It was then updated for Trump 2.0.

The movement focuses on community organizing that goes beyond voting.

"A lot of people have not been in the habit of contacting their elected officials, but that is one of the most effective things that ordinary citizens can do," said Rebecca Larson, co-leader of Indivisible Twin Cities.

Added Erbes: "We try to pick actions that are timely and urgent. We write a script; we provide contact information, go through it, explain it a little bit. Then everyone kind of goes off and does it."

Both insist their group is not an arm of the Democratic Party, is supported by donations and welcomes all comers — Erbes was a Republican up until the 2003 Iraq War.

Alex Plechash, chair of Minnesota's Republican Party, views the movement differently.

"The Minnesota GOP respects the right of any group to organize and express their views," Plechash said. "But let's be clear: Many of these so-called 'resistance' groups, including Indivisible, 50501 and Women's March Minnesota, are funded by outside national interests pushing a radical agenda that's completely out of step with the values of everyday Minnesotans."

Erbe and Larson laugh at that characterization — both are in their 60s, and retired from careers in IT. "We are older white ladies," Larson said. "We are about as nonradical as you can get."

50501: Minnesota — short for 50 states, 50 demonstrations, 1 day — sprouted up across the country in January. Spurred by a post on Reddit, followers of the grassroots group skew toward millennials and Gen Zers.

Helped by social media, the groups can organize rallies quickly: A protest opposing deportations at the El Salvador consulate in St. Paul last week came together in 24 hours. Organizers said 500 people showed up.

Smaller "pop-up" rallies can target people's interests (or fears), such as cuts to veterans services or Social Security benefits, encroaching climate change or endangered national parks.

"Our generation was raised in a time with so much turmoil, we never anticipated having a retirement or Social Security," said Heather Friedli, an organizer with 50501: Minnesota who lives in St. Paul. "For us, it's the climate crisis, the environment, having a livable Earth and civil rights."

Last Saturday's rally, for example, had an Earth Day theme. "The youth was out," said Friedli. "It was so heartening to see."

Will it all work?

"Activists are more likely to sway incumbents and the electorate if they articulate clear, cohesive demands rather than a hodgepodge of claims," said Lisa Mueller, an associate professor of political science at Macalester College.

And nonviolent movements are more likely to succeed, she said.

But diverse interests, Mueller said, "shouldn't be banished from a movement because a diverse crowd signals to powerholders and bystanders who might support your movement that you're more than a radical fringe, that you're a large cross section of society."

"That can be a strength," she said.