The habit of cynicism dies hard, and it's often difficult to remember, when faced with a world of war and bloodshed and suffering and apathy and looming disaster, that there is always something hopeful to see, if you know where to look.
I've been feeling pretty bleak lately, terrified of everything from trade deals to climate change, and some days it feels like I'm walking with this weight dragging at my thoughts, reminding me of how vast and horrible and devastating our world is. This afternoon, I wasn't sure I was in any shape for attending a protest rally, but activism demands, well, action, and I thought I'd feel worse staying home.
The rally was in protest of Governor Baker's announcement, a few days ago, that Massachusetts would not be accepting Syrian refugees (he has since backtracked). That proclamation, though, was part of exactly the trend that I feared after the Paris attacks: a rise in the vicious rhetoric and actions of xenophobia, of racism, of fear. And after last week's rally against the war on Yemen, I was leery of counterprotestors shouting No one cares, unsure if I could take that again.
But this rally was thoroughly different--estimated at a thousand people present, it was the largest demonstration I've been to in Boston since the Black Lives Matter marches and protests of last year. The speakers were clear, forceful, and emotionally resonant, from various sponsoring organizations but also with an open mic for anyone of Syrian heritage who wanted to say something. The crowd swelled and stayed attentive, especially towards the beginning, echoing chants and cheering wildly. I was astounded to see so many people--I'd been expecting a medium-sized candlelight vigil on the plaza near the train stop, which is what I attended a couple of years ago, the last time the US was toying with the idea of war with Syria (that time, Obama abstained; this time, we're far gone already and the theme this time was fallout, refugees, not prevention).
I also noticed how easily speakers holding forth on the plight of refugees shifted to condemning capitalism, to urging system change and solidarity. This socialist-infused language is not something I've seen outside of quite leftist echo chambers, and I was wary of how the crowd would react at first. But they seemed receptive, and I was enormously gratified--to stand in a sea of a thousand people who chose to come out on a cold Friday night and demand better treatment of people suffering far away, that is a powerful thing. In my city well-entrenched in its indifference and divisions, here was a mass of people who care, who can cheer in response to soliloquies on anything from capitalism to personal stories to connections with Palestine. While I was being cynical, people are waking up. I want to believe that.
The scope of the rally was also impressively broad, despite its purported theme as being support of taking in Syrian refugees. It was also genuinely diverse and intersectional, and instead of platitudes and saviorism, there were comprehensive, hard-hitting analyses of history and how the current Middle East conflict developed, concrete actions for people to take, wrenching personal stories, connections to movements from Black Lives Matter to Palestine to the anti-Boston-2024 Olympics campaign. People spoke about how instead of expecting Muslims to apologize for the actions of extremists claiming to share their religion, it is white Christian society who ought to apologize for the violence done in their name--and the crowd cheered in support of that. This was not a rally of saccharine sympathy and moderation--it is the grassroots speaking out, the stirrings of a better world. Even the issues raised at the rally I went to last week, the one protested by people yelling No one cares, made an appearance--criticism of the US relationship with the brutal Saudi Arabian regime and its war on Yemen.
Nevertheless, there were a few speakers I winced at--a man who seemed to suggest that the Us's principle reason for accepting refugees is or should be that performing this basic service for human rights would help repair our reputation in the world and would allow us to stop playing "second fiddle" to European countries like Germany already stepping up to the task. This hits me as unsettling, missing the point: to take in refugees is not an act of self-aggrandizement, a self-righteous stance to make you look and feel superior. When the damage and terror being wreaked from Lebanon to France is blowback from wars and instability we caused, it is a moral responsbility to offer asylum to the people whose homes we have made unsafe. It is not a way to try to make up for the damage done to our image by our barbaric, profiteering, vicious wars.
It is true that our policies harm our reputation; I am ashamed of my country, but I cannot stomach the idea of taking in refugees chiefly as a PR move--I don't want the wars fought in our name, but neither do I want acts of false or questionably-intentioned goodwill performed in my name, too little, too late, and too insincere.
A woman also said, which I found cringeworthy, that to show our solidarity against racism and scapegoating, we should go up to a Muslim person or person of color and tell them "I support you!" I have only experienced this odd type of "solidarity" from the perspective of a queer person, but I don't quite know what's so affirming about a stranger assuring you that they support you. Support what? Your right to exist? The fact that you happen to be Muslim or nonwhite? It sounds like congratulations, like they applaud a decision or position you have taken, and that sits wrong with me. Tokenizing or patronizing displays of support are neither necessary nor helpful. We can express solidarity without walking up to a member of a marginalized group and declaring our support for their living the only life they have.
Still, this was one of the most poignant displays of hopeful action that I have seen lately. Something is rising, whatever it is--dissent, revolution, awareness, anger, change. Something is shifting, in our dialogue and our conviction. Something is stirring, stretching its limbs, prying at my cynicism and insisting that no, it isn't too late for a mass uprising of conscious, justice-minded global citizens with so much to lose and so much to gain.
One of the people at the rally was holding a sign that read, "The odds are never in their favor." But maybe the display of solidarity and power last night suggests the beginnings of a movement to change that.
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