Nobody has solid figures on how many people filled the Seattle Center’s 74 acres yesterday. The Seattle Times, with its usual arrow-sharp reporting, says “thousands.” The organizers of the rally said 7,000 people had registered for it. I was there half an hour before it was scheduled to begin and the grounds were already packed solid.
It invigorated some. It depressed me. The signs made it clear how many parts of our democracy have been violated since January 20th and the massive crowd pointed out our impotence. Half of the country could mobilize the same numbers on the opposite side with the same passionate fervor--and they’re the ones who control our government.
Our numbers yesterday accomplished nothing. Milling around in a city park, carrying signs--it was Protest Lite. We could have shut down the city if we’d marched through downtown. Instead we showed off our clever signs and tried to hear the speakers who were kneecapped by a lousy sound system.
At best this felt like going to church. At worst it seemed like performance art. Do you feel better than you did on April 4th? Not me.
Maybe I’m a jaundiced old woman and maybe I’m still reeling from the effects of a wild case of claustrophobia. Maybe I’m pierced by the fear that even when our economy goes into the garbage disposal and Russia is our only ally in the world, the other side will cling to the lies that they’re fed every day and blame it all on Biden.
This morning’s headlines from the BBC and the New York Times report that a federal judge’s order to return a man who was deported without cause is being ignored by the White House and that a third Presidential term is gaining plausibility. What might have been millions of people across our country who turned out against these issues and far too many others is only a sideshow.
To cry or to vomit? That is the question.
No comments:
Post a Comment