The subrising: How a sandwich became a symbol of D.C.’s resistance
In an already surreal moment, Washingtonians have embraced bread puns, sandwich flags, and sub-themed street art as a form of protest.

Like almost everyone else, Lorraine Hu saw the footage as it rocketed across social media last week: A man, clad in shorts and a pink shirt, angrily gesticulating in front of a federal officer on U Street NW before throwing an uneaten sub sandwich at his chest. A brief chase ensues, and the man – known by the internet as “sandwich guy” – is apprehended.
Inspiration quickly struck for the hobbyist printmaker. She started carving a design into a linoleum block, rolled red paint along the elevated edges, and pressed the block onto a piece of paper.
“I love the D.C. flag. It’s such an awesome clean design,” says Hu, 32. “Something about the sub fitting right in for the bars seemed like a good substitute.”
Hu posted a picture of the resulting print on the Reddit channel for Washington, D.C., thinking it might offer a moment of temporary levity during a period of intense and unprecedented events. It instead prompted thousands of likes and requests for copies of the print. She spent the weekend furiously taking orders for pins, tote bags, and t-shirts bearing the new design.
“I realize sub sandwich art is a very specific cultural moment,” she says, laughing.
That D.C. residents would protest President Trump’s aggressive moves to increase the presence of federal law enforcement in the city is unsurprising. But that one of the symbols of local resistance would be a man launching a sandwich is about as unexpected as things get. (That being said, a group of men dumping tea into a harbor did help inspire the Revolutionary War.)
“I think that everyone sees him as this new folk hero because it’s some version of a primal collective scream for everyone who loves D.C.,” says Hu. “Is it professionally advisable? Probably not. But it struck a nerve with people.”
That primal scream came from Sean Charles Dunn, a 37-year-old D.C. resident and Air Force veteran. According to a police affidavit, Dunn approached a group of federal officers standing at 14th and U Streets and let them know exactly how he felt about them. “Fuck you! You fucking fascists! Why are you here? I don’t want you in my city!” he yelled, before lobbing his deli weapon at a Customs and Border Protection officer. (He later admitted to the crime: “I did it. I threw a sandwich.”)
The incident happened on the night of August 10, some 24 hours before President Trump announced he was taking control of the Metropolitan Police Department and deploying the National Guard to handle what he said was a crime emergency in the city (despite statistics showing a decrease in violent crime since last year). But it coincided with what had already been an evident increase in the presence of federal law enforcement in D.C., which has since continued both in numbers and intensity. Random police stops are now reported on a daily basis, as are immigration raids.
And the threats to local autonomy haven’t let up: the DOJ has opened a criminal investigation into whether the city faked crime data (even as Trump has falsely claimed D.C. is among the most dangerous cities in the world), and key Republicans are pushing to repeal what little local government residents currently have.
Dunn’s moment of culinary resistance – he wouldn't be subservient, one could say – has become a symbol of the city’s refusal to accept the situation quietly. Banksy-inspired posters showing a masked man about to throw a sub are appearing around town (the original print features a bouquet of flowers.) Sandwich imagery has made it into signs at protests (“These condiments don’t run!”), and social media is replete with sandwich-related memes (“Don’t Bread on Me” atop the traditional yellow Gadsden flag long used by conservatives who oppose big government).

But just as Washingtonians have used Dunn’s subversion as a symbol, so too has the Trump administration. The Department of Justice charged him with felony assault on a police officer, which is punishable by up to eight years in prison. (The federal law he is charged under makes that quite easy to do; it only requires “physical contact” to qualify as felony assault. Comparable local law, though, requires contact that “causes significant bodily injury.”)
Dunn was also fired from his job at the Department of Justice; Attorney General Pam Bondi went as far as to call him an “example of the Deep State we have been up against.” (The deli state?) And even though Dunn offered to turn himself in to police, almost two dozen officers were instead sent to his home at 11 p.m. to arrest him, according to his lawyer. (The scene was later turned into a cinematic, made-for-Twitter video posted by The White House).
“If you touch any law enforcement officer, we will come after you,” Bondi unironically said in a press release.
The Trump administration’s approach to Dunn further animated Hu, who says she rarely did politically themed prints until earlier this year. “This poor man is facing many years in prison. Actual violent rioters who assaulted police officers are totally pardoned,” she says, referring to the 1,500 people who Trump pardoned earlier this year for their crimes committed on Jan. 6, 2021 – including dozens of people convicted of violently attacking police officers, and not with sandwiches.
Hu is careful to add that she doesn’t condone violence against police. “I am not saying batter people with sandwiches every day,” she says. “But the spirit of protest and the surreal nature of what’s going on is the inspiration for the piece. I feel like the artwork is just pointing to the absurdity of the situation and how surreal it is that we have all these law enforcement agencies pulled away from higher-profile work to walk around the National Mall.”
For now, Hu is focused on filling all the orders she received in recent days. None of what she’s making, though, is staying with her. She says she’s donating the proceeds of the sales – $1,200 so far – to a number of local organizations, including the Capital Area Food Bank, Miriam’s Kitchen, and the Migrant Solidarity Mutual Aid Network.
“I’m just a faceless nobody IRL,” Hu wrote in an update on Reddit on Monday. “So hopefully this inspires someone out there to think about how they can use their hobbies for good.”