This past week, as outrage over the murder of George Floyd has spilled into the streets, I’ve been grateful for the chance to participate in solidarity vigils and protests in my own neighborhood. These have been relatively small, but still, it’s satisfying to stand with hundreds of others along the roadside while cars (so many cars!) honk or wave their own Black Lives Matter signs as they pass.
My neighborhood is mostly white, and it makes me proud that we’re trying to show up. Many signs say things like “white silence = violence.” Others recognize the roles of white privilege and systemic racism in harming people of color. I have to hope that many of my fellow protesters are not just here as a token act, but are committed to making real change in our society. We need to be in this for the long haul.
I especially appreciate these small protests because they feel safe to me as an immunosuppressed person. In the age of covid-19, I just don’t feel comfortable marching in large, close-knit groups of shouting people. The neighborhood protests are socially distant—we’re all spaced out along the road.
I’ve been finding other small things to do behind the scenes, like petition signing, but there’s something about going outside, making noise, and being seen. It’s a relief to be able to physically stand outside, holding a sign, without risking grave illness.
But I’m fortunate to be able-bodied enough to do even this much. I just read this beautiful blog post by Myke Johnson, whose own chronic illness has prevented her from showing up in person at all. She writes:
These days, the irony of [activist Ella] Baker’s words—we cannot rest—is not lost on me as I deal with a chronic illness that demands that I rest every day, that robs me of my capacity to show up to protest in the streets, or do very much of any other kind of activism. But her words also helped me to articulate one thing I could do. On Wednesday, I lit a red candle at 4 p.m., as a protest at Portland (Maine) City Hall was beginning, led by young activists of color. I offered my prayers and watched a live video feed for the two hour protest, and bore witness to the young people with such courage who dare to run against the storm. Maybe today, all I can do is bear witness in support of these young people, and in that way, “to be one in the number, as we stand against tyranny.”
Her description of lighting a candle, praying, and watching the protests helps me realize just how large this movement really is. It’s been so inspiring to see the photos of young people marching and kneeling and lying in the streets, but there are also many more of us—the sick, the disabled or differently abled, and the elderly—who would also be there if it was safer for us. We are very much there in spirit! We’re showing up in other ways, more quietly, behind the scenes.
I’m grateful to be able-bodied enough, for now, to go to my neighborhood protests. And I hope other, healthier, younger people will read this post and feel uplifted. There are more of us there with you than you may know.
