I think my latest Claremont Courier column, published a week and a half ago, speaks for itself. Or, as my friend Chris would say, 'nuff said.
PROTESTING IS THE EASY PART. REALLY?
I attended the local No Kings Protest last month. For about 15 minutes.
That was about all I could take.
It wasn’t that I didn’t agree with the protesters and wanted nothing to do with the two-hour afternoon protest, one of thousands that day across the nation. God, no! I was right there with the protesters, horrified by how President Trump is acting more and more like a tyrant, a king, running roughshod over the law and the constitution. I too am sickened by how Trump and has goons have led us into a reckless war, snatched people off the street and basically disappeared them with no legal recourse, all but obliterated science and sensible and life-saving health policy and access and on and on and on.
It wasn’t because it was hot that Saturday, although it was. One friend that I saw was beet red (or was that because she was that angry that the country is going to Hell in a hand basket?).
No, no. I couldn’t take more than 15 minutes, because I couldn’t handle all the people and all the noise, as impressive and inspiring as it all was. I’m pretty sure this had to do with being in a wheelchair and trying to navigate in such a crowd. I had the same problem when I would go to West Hollywood on Halloween night.
Like on those Halloweens, I should have just parked my wheelchair and watched the cars passing by honking and showing signs of support. But, at least for me, at the protest, as impressive as the passing cars were in their show of encouragement, it was the protesters that were a sight to see. At this parade, it was the spectators who were the display, the show to see.
Perhaps I should have just driven by in my van, honking, over and over, driving around in a circle. As much as I wanted to participate, I was really there to cheer on the protesters, encourage the effort.
It would have been easier than what the protesters were doing: standing out there, hoisting signs, making noise, for up to two hours, in the heat. Ugh! More power to them!
And yet, I wanted to be with them, to be a part of what they were doing. Because it was…fun? I’m not sure if “fun” is the right word, although it was no doubt fun for a few or for some. Perhaps it’s better to say that it was a tonic in these troubling times. Being able to vent peacefully was a release at least and hopefully inspiring and empowering. All the more so when in the company of so many others – not only here but in so many other places.
And yet, and yet again, as much effort as it was to be out there protesting, it was easy. It was the easy part.
It was easy to be out there yelling, venting, expressing outrage, together, in community – to not feel alone in feeling despair, disgusted, helpless. It was the easy part. All too easy.
Unfortunately.
As I saw all those people here and all those people everywhere else protesting, venting, together, I couldn’t help thinking: what if they all voted? Especially all those young people – students and others – out there throwing f-bombs (as seen in these pages).
I have nothing against f-bombs, and I certainly have nothing against venting peacefully (if raucously). But I do think it’s unfortunate that it turns out that spending a hot afternoon protesting is easier than voting.
That’s what it looks like. The number of people, especially young people, who vote is nothing to be proud of. I’ve heard it said that it’s “dismal.” This is especially true in mid-term and off-year elections, when mainly older, more conservative people tend to vote. Yes, we’re voting for governor this year, but that race is proving to be uninspiring, even frustrating with, of all things here in California, two Trumpian Republicans in the lead and who some fear may end up being the only choices.
And with Trump and his sycophants trying to make voting harder, even harder than it apparently is, we need to get out there and really get something done and protest – by voting.
