I just happened by a huge labor day march in Portland on May 1st this year. Day of anonymous flowers on neighbors doorsteps, as well as solidarity with the labor and human rights movement.
I was walking out of the Hilton in downtown Portland after attending a national community schools conference (think stuffed chairs, catered lunches, professional dress, bottled water, and people trying desperately to meet others who also are passionate about the work we do, hoping to connect and to re-energize).
I walked straight into a protest that was in full swing at a neighboring downtown square. I could hear a woman speaking to the crowd in Spanish. I couldn't understand what she was saying, but she was passionate, clear, focused. I saw a huge number of people who were standing with signs, people who had obviously planned to spend the day there. And I saw all the curious onlookers - like myself - who were looking in from the outside.
I love rallys, marches, and protests. I love the idea of them. I love the energy. I love the creativity that is always present. I love the fact that people are fighting for something they believe in. Really - no matter what it is. One of the hardest things for me to witness is apathy. Someone who just doesn't care makes my heart feel like it wants to break. There is something so incredibly sad about that to me.
That might be partly why I love a good debate, no matter who it's with and what they believe. I'll go toe-to-toe with someone - respectfully - who believes in something with all their heart. There is so much to be said for being engaged, for caring, for fighting for what you believe is right. I am definitely a warrior at heart - though maybe not in the traditional sense.
So, I kind of felt a bit guilty passing by the march ater watching for a few moments. I felt like I should have known this was happening, should have been one of the people who had planned on being there. But I wasn't. And over and over again, something keeps me from being one of those people.
It isn't laziness, nor lack of intense feelings about justice, nor about not having the time, nor about not being willing to fight, not being willing to be in public. I guess somehow I just don't find that marches and rallys are for me. I have more thinking to do as to why exactly that is.
When my friend Mona sent me this picture of her in Seattle's Immigrant Rights parade, however, I felt so proud to know someone who DID show up. As an Aztec dance performer, a political activist, and right at the front of the parade, no less (Mona is in the front with the white feather headdress).
I know that one of my friends being active in such a public way doesn't get me off the hook for not showing up myself to something like this. But it reminds me that we each have our own way of participating, of fighting, of showing solidarity. And it doesn't so much matter how that looks (creative or not, "political" or not, public or not). It's about doing whatever fits and just getting out there. Stepping to the front and saying something with all your heart....
In Mona's email to me she wrote:
"it was so humbling and empowering to be a part of something so important. to look back and see tens of thousands of people marching in solidarity was beyond words."
