I’m not wondering anymore if it was meaningful to take part in the Black Lives Matter protest yesterday. I know it was. Mostly because I can feel it. It felt good to do, good to be a part of.
There were over 100 people lining the sidewalk on the corner of Main Street and Route 22, which I found impressive. All holding signs, mostly white people but not all, from babies being held by their mothers to white-haired couples who looked like they protested in the 1960s or looked like they didn’t.
I was surprised to see the local police as well as State Troopers there. And for a while, a drone hovered overhead.
I stood next to Connie who owns Battenkill Books, and when two guys one wearing a Confederate flag bandana started yelling “All lives matter”, we all chanted “Black Lives Matter” louder, drowning them out.
That felt pretty good.
A few people gave us “the finger” as they drove by, but most people either ignored us or honked their horns in support.
I feel connected to our little town and was glad to see it represented in this way. Glad to see I’m among so many people who believe Black Lives Matter is a just cause. I don’t think this would have happened even just a few months ago.
And I do feel like we were doing something important.
All those people driving by (there was a lot more traffic on a Sunday night than I would have imagined) who either looked at us or tried to ignore us, maybe we made them think a little or even feel something they hadn’t before.
There is power in coming together in the way we did. And knowing that our small protest is a part of something bigger makes it even more meaningful. As each individual voice counts, all the individual protests, no matter how small, is greater than the whole.