Why do you go to protests?

My brain hasn’t fully processed the magnitude of the peace demos in DC. After several unsuccessful attempts at a “play-by-play” account, I stopped to think about a question I’ve been hearing a lot lately. Sometimes “looking deeply,” as Thich Nhat Hanh would say, at behaviors and actions, will yield unexpected insights.

Why do you go to protests? It’s a question I’ve heard many times in recent months. As the race to war grows more intense and the stakes get higher, it’s a question I’ve begun to ask myself. Truly, honestly, what will it accomplish, hundreds of thousands of people gathering before a government that won’t listen, a media that looks away? We see photographs of the Vietnam demonstrations and know in the pit of our stomachs what we’re in for. And it terrifies us.

But is that why people protest? Some abstract kind of fear?

For me, it’s more direct than that. Many people are willing to travel great distances and endure hardships to see the ones they love. Families, old friends, long-lost lovers… At mass demonstrations, I get to see the people I love: the co-creators of the world I want to live in. A day with thousands of visionary people — even if I don’t know their names or their stories — is a day with beloved friends. Who else could I possibly trust enough to dance my joy and scream my pain with? Such a day reminds me that I am not alone, and gives me the energy to keep believing in my vision. And it gives me hope that I might someday see that vision become reality.

I go to protests because I can. I don’t have money to contribute or a big name to post in the newspaper, but I can offer my time. I can afford to take a day off work and travel to another city, or organize on an evening or weekend in my own city. I can focus on the needs of others because I have a warm coat and good shoes and enough food to eat. I can raise my voice because I have been taught that my voice matters.

Signing petitions, writing letters, running a peace website — these are all important things that I do, but there is something empowering about being physically present at demonstrations. The energy of like-minded people gives me a space where I can safely put my body on the line. I am willing to temporarily forego the comforts that are bought at such a high price, risk injury and imprisonment, and endure hardship — so that perhaps someone else won’t have to. Someone who doesn’t have the luxury of choice and the support of friends. Once, I didn’t have a choice either, and I suffered at the hands of one I should have been able to trust. Now I choose to stand up, fight back, and use my body against a government I should be able to trust. I do not have to close my eyes and allow myself to be raped economically, politically, spiritually.

I used to think that I went to protests to change the world. My goals are a little more realistic now. Starhawk once wrote, “in order to change ourselves, we must change the world. And in order to change the world, we must change, ourselves.” The rest will fall into place on its own.