My youngest child and I had the opportunity to participate in a peaceful protest. We weren’t sure what to expect, not knowing much about the area where the protest took place, but we were eager to be more involved. Despite a hotter than average day, there were hundreds and probably more protesters. People gathered from all walks of life, all ethnicities and ages. Families marched. Friends marched. It was moving to be part of such a large group all joined in unity, working toward a common goal.
I was anxious because it was a large group. Having been in quarantine for the last three months, my contact with “the outside world” had consisted of grocery stores. I was concerned to be in proximity of so many, especially given the general attitude I’ve been encountering of people tired of sheltering in place and masks and rebelling. The vast majority of protesters wore masks. Although the crowd was big, social distancing was relatively easy.
And finally, people of opposing opinion? Well, if they were present, they were silent observers. We never heard a negative word spoken.
It was peaceful protesting for an important issue at its best. Black Lives Matter
Peace and love,