Doing something

Another weekend day, another protest.

      This time it was called “Rage Against the Regime,” and although the name was different much was the same.

      There were the usual call-and-response chants: “Tell me what democracy looks like/this is what democracy looks like”; “A people united/can never be divided.”

      There were the usual signs, both commercially produced and handwritten, although this time there were a number of new ones that referenced the Epstein files and the current president’s relationship to the disgraced financier and trafficker (“Trump is a pedo.”)

      There were the usual speeches with the usual calls to action and there were the usual people in attendance.

      That is, a pretty overwhelming majority of those who came out to protest on a finally coolish Saturday morning were older, white, apparently straight and—if you can judge by their clothes and their cars—pretty solidly middle class. So, all in all, pretty much what we’ve seen before—at the Hands Off! and No Kings and other demonstrations we’ve attended.

      Yes, pretty much the same old, same old, and still he rages on. Still, nothing seems to have changed. Still, things may have even gotten worse. So, why do we keep on coming out, bringing our signs, wearing our stickers, marching through our streets?

      Because, I think, there’s no alternative. One sign at the latest demonstration has stuck with me: “If you were wondering what you’d do during the Holocaust, this is what.”

      And because I keep remembering what someone, somewhere—maybe in a piece I read online?—said: “Just because you can’t do everything, doesn’t mean you can’t do something.”

      So, we show up. Like many of those at this demonstration, we want to do something more, but we don’t exactly know what that is. We want somebody to lead us, but we don’t exactly know who that is. We want to make a difference, but we’re not really sure how to do it.

So, until the time that we do know, when the next protest comes around, we’ll be there, again: Holding the same signs, chanting the same slogans. It’s the least we can do. Until we can do more.