I don’t remember the first political rally I attended, but I do remember the biggest. Twenty-two years ago last month, I was visiting NYC when GW Bush bombed Iraq because of their fictitious “weapons of mass destruction.” I met my friends Ren and Devan to see a play, “Fifth of July” with David Harbour, Robert Sean Leonard, Ebon Moss Bachrach and Parker Posey. We were numb in that way you get when the world spins out of control and there’s nothing you can do about it. But the play was good.
The next day, Ren called and said they wanted to go to the peace march. Though it was 22 years ago, I remember details about that day like it just happened. I wore weird stretchy twill black pants I bought at Target. As I waited for them on the corner of 42nd and Madison, a woman asked me for directions like I lived there. We walked a few blocks west where we joined a gazillion people and marched down Broadway all the way the Washington Square Park. It was a raucous, social and inspiring event. Then the three of us walked over the Brooklyn Bridge and ate at Superfine where the server was incredibly excited and grateful we had marched.
Last Saturday, I took a packed city bus to downtown Portland to march with thousands of others who are not okay with the Trump administration. It was exhilarating to be with other positive people; the vibe was upbeat and kind. It was a good day, yet a miserable thought lingered at the back of my mind: will this have any effect at all?
Do protests do any good? Do they stop wars or give women autonomy over their bodies or keep Black people from getting murdered by cops? Like the signs the elders carry saying: “I can’t believe I still have to protest this shit.” Rallies give us something to do when the world doesn’t make sense. We find our like-minded people. We find solidarity. We find hope in a seemingly hopeless situation. We are not alone.
And protests leave us with some pretty wonderful snapshots and proof that we cared enough to make hilarious signs, hit the streets and use our voices. As I write this, the First Amendment still gives us the right to assemble (for now). I’ll see you out there!
Next time. I want to go with you.