✊ We Care ✊
The floor of the Senate offices building was blessedly cool after walking seven miles in the muggy Washington, DC heat. Last Thursday, I sat on the floor of the offices under the sweet, sweet air conditioning surrounded by 600 other women. In the middle of the crowd, one of the protest organizers rang a bell. On cue, the whole room started chanting, “We care! We care! We care!”
Usually at protests, I feel awkward. They’re so sincere. I’m literally holding a sign proclaiming my values in front of a bunch of strangers. It’s vulnerable getting up in front of a group of people and saying, “Excuse me, here is something I care deeply about. I would like things to change!” It definitely doesn’t feel cool. It feels like I’m annoying everyone (because I am) just to pour my heart out (because I am). One hundred percent of the time that I’m at a protest, I would rather be home watching Netflix and eating chips and not having anyone look at me. But I go to protests because I feel like it’s my responsibility to be uncomfortable and annoying and bothersome. It’s my unpaid side-job, the community service hours I offer up because I get to live my life feeling safe and many, many, many people do not.
I’ve spent the whole last month furious. When I hear the stories of children torn apart from their parents at the border, I just get so angry that it’s hard to think. When I read about the Supreme Court upholding the Muslim ban, for the first few minutes I had some thoughtful responses and then I just fell apart, laying on the couch crying and useless. So instead of shouting at the ceiling of my living room, I traveled to Washington, DC for the protest organized by the Women’s March and the Center for Popular Democracy, where it was an enormous relief to instead be shouting at Senate offices. The people who could actually change things were forced to actually, literally hear our voices.
The sound echoed off the walls around us, rising through nine stories of Senate offices. I craned my neck up and saw people in suits and ties coming to every office window, suddenly appearing in the balconies above us, peering down at the commotion. The protest chant changed into a haunting song: “I hear the voice of my great Granddaughter sayin’ free all families now.” From the second story of the building, other protesters suddenly unfurled gigantic yellow and red banners: “End all detention camps!” Throughout the building, some staffers were applauding, giving thumbs up, and snapping photos. Others crossed their arms, shook their heads, wondered when the police would move in and get us out of there.
The police did show up swiftly. They called out three warnings through a megaphone. Then, they came up to us one-by-one and said that if we stayed put, we would be arrested. I was the third woman they talked to. They were very polite about it. “You’re under arrest now, miss. Do you have a photo ID? Please go stand against that wall.” The Women’s March had told us all to go along with the police, to not resist arrest, so I got up and stood against the wall. The singing continued, full force. A few female senators hustled down from their offices and joined in the protest. Kristen Gillibrand, Pramila Jayapal, Tammy Duckworth, they slipped into the crowd. When the police had 24 of us lined up, an officer asked us to follow him back outside. As we walked single-file around the edge of the protest, the singing stopped. En masse, the crowd began to applaud. I didn’t feel awkward at all. I felt something new: proud.
STUFF I LOVE
Collages by Broobs.PSD - Artist Ruben Guadalupe Marquez has been making these gorgeous collages of queer icons. I would hang every single one on my wall.
Making Gay History - I first picked up Eric Marcus’s oral history of the LGBTQ rights movement when I was in high school and I’m re-reading it now. It’s a nice reminder that we’re not in the worst moment in American history, a generation or two before us was a very dark time for a lot of people. If the tome-size book is intimidating, check out the podcast! This episode featuring Ellen made me tear up.
Radioooo - What kind of music was being made in Brazil in 1974? Hell if I know! But website and app Radioooo lets you click on countries around the world, choose a decade, and hear what was on the radio! Thanks to Radioooo, I recently discovered 1950s Mexican doo-wop band Los Teen Tops and now there’s no going back.
Counting Descent by Clint Smith - This summer, I’m teaching a writing class for veterans as part of UPenn’s Upward Bound college-prep program. The very first thing I asked the class to do was read and analyze poems by Clint Smith. The students range from age 35 to 65, but every single person connected with Smith’s poems. Start with this one.
Buffalo Cauliflower - I can’t stop making this stuff. What is the best buffalo cauliflower recipe?! Mine always comes out soggy and I just eat it anyway. Please send me your good ideas.
SOMEONE TO KNOW
My partner Ben introduced me to Thomas Page McBee’s book Man Alive, about masculinity, identity, and violence. I devoured the whole thing in like one day. It’s really essential reading if you’re someone who thinks a lot about gender. Now, McBee has a new book coming out in August! Maggie Nelson blurbed Amateur, saying it bristles with “hard-won strength, insight, agility, and love.” You better believe I preordered it so fast.
SOMETHING TO DO
Read a short story
I put together a pretty killer syllabus for my summer writing class. Do you want something to read? Here are three short stories I assigned that you can read for free online. Please feel free to send me your thoughtful analysis afterward in exchange for a letter grade.
Adam by Kurt Vonnegut
The Great Silence by Ted Chiang
The Lottery by Shirley Jackson
P.S. Don’t worry about me being arrested! The police just wrote us each a $50 ticket for “incommoding.” The Women’s March paid the ticket and I was back out, ready to eat one to three pizzas for dinner, in under two hours. If you want to donate to support protests like these, consider pitching in to the Women’s March and the Center for Popular Democracy.
I’ll write to you in two weeks! In the meantime, keep in touch on Instagram and Twitter, okay? If this is your first time seeing this newsletter, you can subscribe here.