At the protest, a lot of us were young. Some of us were older and had experienced injustice before. Some of us thought our demonstration days were over, but that was before this prejudice evil emerged. Most of us were from the area — Philadelphia, Saint Davids, Radnor, Norristown, Lancaster. Some of us were visiting from neighboring states. Some of us were from across the country. Some of us lived less than a mile away. All of us were in this one place, thousands of lives, thousands of voices, thousands of stories. All of us were fighting for the same cause.
As we trudged forward with our signs in tow and our voices so loud they could never be ignored, we prayed. We prayed for a more inclusive America. We all hoped and dreamed for the day where the land of the free lets the people who inhabit it be who they are without being ashamed. We all met people we never thought we would meet. We chanted until the earth shook beneath our feet and we could feel the vibrations shake our ribcages. We will persist. We will be heard. We will fight for others. We will see the day where love trumps hate.
Some of us knew someone who feared their family members would be ripped away from them. Some of us had gotten arrested in the Civil Rights Movement for the very action they continued to do right at this moment. Some of us were victims of hate crimes. Some of us were called derogatory names for expressing our religion. Some of us were told to “get the hell out of the country” when we were born here. Some of us wondered what it would be like to be white for a day. Some of us voted for the very man who signed his name on the dotted line of the executive order. Some of us voted for her. Some of us voted for neither.
One of us was just getting off his flight when he heard the commotion and decided to join in. One of us scribbled a protestor hotline number on her palm in case she got detained. One of us prepared rags drenched in vinegar in case the authorities brought out the tear gas. One of us leads the crowd in a march. One of us started to sing. "Small hands, Small hands, He has small hands, He has the smallest hands." One of us started a chant. "Hands too small, can’t build a wall!" One of us had breast cancer and was fighting for her mother to be able to enter the country so she could have moral support during her battle. One of us was crying because he thought he would lose his only parent. One of us proudly wore a t-shirt with the words “Not My President” branded across the front in bold font. One of us had never been to a protest before. One of us had to lock their doors airtight at night because he had gotten death threats for being a Muslim in America. One of us had their property vandalized with spray paint, and the next morning they found red, angry, dripping letters spelling out “Kill the Gay” on his front door. All of us, despite our own struggles, made it out to support the group of people who started the foundation of our country to begin with.
Some of us were liberals. Some of us were progressives. Some of us were libertarians. Some of us were a part of the Green Party. Some of us were Republican. Some of us were Christian. Some of us were Muslim. Some of us were Hindu. Some of us were Buddhist. Some of us were women. Some of us were men. Some of us were transgender. Some of us were gay or lesbian. Some of us were White. Some of us were African American. Some of us were Asian. Some of us were natives. All of us are different, but one injustice brought us all together.
Originally written for "Seminar By The Sea," Inspired by Julia Otsuka's novel "The Buddha In The Attic."
