OK, so: now that I am trying to be an active citizen, I have attended a number of protests, marches, and rallies. Tbh they give me a little anxiety: Where are we all going? Are people looking at me weird? Is someone going to yell unkind things?!?

But there’s something exhilarating about a protest march: it’s a little bit parade, a little bit tantrum, a little bit collective effervescence (thx, Hollen). It’s about as elemental as it gets: a bunch of people, together, saying “we don’t (or do) want this” with their voices and bodies and maximum inconvenience.

I’ll write more about protests at some point, but today is a brief lab report, because this weekend I tried something, it went well, and I think you might want to try it, too.

As my friend Karen drove me home from an afternoon of art and tacos, we noticed a gathering on the main street a few blocks from my house. There were signs and rainbow flags, and a sousaphone! Later, I ambled down to see what was going on: it was a march organized by queer women for Palestinian liberation. (I would like to point out the essential beauty of queer women’s using Pride month to march on behalf of other people.)

picture of the protest, and bikes lined up along the march route
One thing I love about protest marches—in Pittsburgh, at least—is the omnipresent bike brigade: people line up their bikes between marchers and the sidewalk and keep an eye out for trouble. A low-key security force.

The life hack is not: join every protest march.

It’s this: bring water to marchers.

See the person with the cooler on a bike trailer? I sidled up to her and said, “Do y’all need anything? Food, water, cough drops?” And she said, enthusiastically, “Oh! That’d be awesome! That cooler is empty, and we’d love some more water.”

So I walked back home, grabbed the 32-pack of bottled water we keep in case of emergency (?)—plus a partial package of cough drops and two garbage bags—and drove the four blocks back down to the march route. It took a minute to find the bike-trailer person again, and when I did, she was like, “I cannot believe you came back!” I dumped the water bottles into her cooler, she shoved the trash bags onto her bike rack, and I said goodbye and good luck. Oh! And while I was looking for her, I passed someone scratchily yelling into a megaphone, so I held up the cough drops and said, “want these?” She smiled, nodded, took them, and I kept walking.

That’s it! The whole thing took maybe ten minutes. As I walked back to my car, I heard someone offering marchers water bottles, and it was nice. (Oh, and I called over to the police officer on guard, “Thanks for protecting this important event!!!” because I have the subtlety of a marimba mallet and like to make a Point.)

baby rolling her eyes
The officer, probably

Two things:

  • Being Part of the Revolution looks a lot of different ways, and looks different on different days. Some days, I march. On this day, it meant leaning into my 43-year-old-mom superpowers, i.e. ARE YOU HYDRATED AND IS EVERYONE’S THROAT OK
  • I feel weird even telling you this because it feels somehow braggy (???). But it’s not, and anyway, whatever! I already know to use a drinking straw to hull a strawberry…I’m looking for life hacks for citizenship! I think this is one!

If I’d had granola bars, I would have brought those, too.

Do you march? Protest? Would you be up for this kind of thing?

I am away next week but will be back thereafter. Love you all so much! xoxo