LEGENDARY DUET! Joan Baez and Bruce Springsteen unite for justice at the Lincoln Memorial, delivering a heart-piercing performance of “The Ghost of Tom Joad” and “We Shall Overcome. Inspiring 50,000 people with their powerful duet. 

Joan Baez: The Voice of Resistance Still Rings Out

Pulling into the tree-lined driveway of Joan Baez’s longtime home south of San Francisco, you’re greeted not just by the serenity of nature, but by the bold portraits she’s painted—faces of Volodymyr Zelensky, Martin Luther King Jr., Anthony Fauci, Gandhi, and the late John Lewis. Once displayed defiantly in her front yard, these icons now lean quietly on the porch, silent witnesses to decades of activism and art.

It’s a scene that encapsulates Baez herself: a woman whose life has always straddled the line between protest and poetry, public rebellion and private reflection. For more than sixty years, she’s been a beacon—sometimes adored, sometimes condemned, always uncompromising—in the struggle for justice and the soul of American music.

When Baez wrapped up her farewell tour six years ago, she insisted it was her final bow. Retirement, she imagined, would be a time for painting, writing poetry, dancing barefoot to the Gipsy Kings, and tending to the thirteen chickens who now roam her property (and sometimes her kitchen). “Now I finally have time to paint my nails,” she laughs, wiggling her fingers, aqua-blue polish gleaming.

But the world keeps calling her back. The release of the Bob Dylan biopic A Complete Unknown thrust her legendary, complicated relationship with Dylan into the spotlight for a new generation. And as Donald Trump returns to the White House, more divisive and dangerous than ever, Baez finds herself once again at rallies, releasing a new protest song (“One in a Million” with Janis Ian), and helping to form a support network for immigrant families torn apart by ICE.

“This is an interesting time,” she says, settling in at her kitchen table, silver hair in a neat bob, black turtleneck as timeless as her voice. “I’ve never been here before.”

“Nobody Could Have Dreamed This Up”

When asked about Trump’s return, Baez doesn’t mince words. “Nobody could have dreamed this up. This is turning into a shithole country because of them. All the evil things that shithole countries do. On the other hand, we’ve all sort of known this was coming. We just weren’t prepared.”

She recalls the night of the 2016 election—not by watching the news, but by seeing the look on her neighbor’s face. “I knew it was a disaster. But the truth is, it’s been in the works for 50 years. It’s not even about Trump. He just gives people permission to be as vile as he is.”

The cruelty of the administration shocks her most. “Sending people to prisons known for torture… It’s the same mechanism I saw in Chile, Argentina, Brazil, the Eastern Bloc. Ruthless steps toward dictatorship.”

Still, Baez takes heart in the pushback. Her granddaughter Jasmine, a singer-songwriter turned future constitutional lawyer, gives her hope. “What a time to go to law school,” she muses. “We may not even have a Constitution soon. But all I can do is encourage her to keep going.”

“Courage Is Doing It Even When You’re Scared”

Reflecting on her own history of civil disobedience—arrested for anti-war activism, standing up to the Ku Klux Klan, traveling to Vietnam—Baez says, “People ask if this is like the Sixties. The Sixties was a garden party compared to this. Now, it’s a machine.”

Why wasn’t she scared then? “Denial, and the need to push on. Courage isn’t about being fearless; it’s about doing it anyway. My darkest joke is: The good news about climate change is that if it gets us first, Trump won’t have time to build his death camps. Except, he might.”

She worries about the danger of protest in this era. “Taking a risk now could just be standing on a corner in a T-shirt that says ‘I’m an illegal immigrant.’ I’ve never experienced this kind of fear.”

“We Need a New Anthem”

Even as her soprano has faded into a lower register, Baez still finds songs that fit. “I can sing ‘Imagine,’ civil rights songs, but ‘We Shall Overcome’ feels too far back. We need something fresher.”

She laments the lack of new protest anthems. “You can’t force an anthem. It has to come from somewhere else. ‘One in a Million’ comes close. ‘Imagine’ is still beautiful. Dylan’s songs are still known worldwide, but even back then I knew we weren’t going to overcome everything.”

Baez remains attuned to new voices—her granddaughter’s recommendations, Lana Del Rey (“I have a crush on Hozier, too!”), and rising protest singers like Jesse Welles. “He’s channeling something real. That’s what matters.”

“If You Google Me, It’s Always ‘Joan Baez and Bob Dylan’”

The Dylan biopic brought old memories and new visibility. “I reached out to the actors. Monica [Barbaro] called, Ed Norton too. They wanted to get it right. The music was brilliant. Chalamet did a good job—maybe too squeaky clean. Bob was never that clean.”

Of her lasting association with Dylan, she shrugs. “If you’re in a room with Bob, you’re diminished automatically. But there are worse people to be glued to.”

She tells of writing Dylan a letter years ago, pouring out gratitude and letting go of old hurts. “I cried, I painted, and it washed it all away. Gratitude replaced frustration.”

“Enjoying Yourself Is an Act of Resistance”

Her documentary I Am a Noise revealed deeply personal struggles, including childhood abuse. Why go public? “I was 79. I wanted an honest legacy. If my story helps others face their own pain, it’s worth it.”

As for her role now, Baez says, “I encourage people not to sit this one out. Don’t wait for 30,000 people—just show up. But I can’t encourage civil disobedience if I’m not willing to go to jail with them. At my age, I’d be useless without my meds!”

Her advice is simple: “When you feel overwhelmed, follow it with ‘and’—‘and I need to do something.’ Even if it’s just dancing with drag queens at your granddaughter’s graduation. Action is the antidote to despair. Enjoying yourself has become an act of resistance. We’re supposed to be cowering. I say—stand up, show up, and dance.”