When I told my husband, he said "did they look homeless?"... um, no. They did not. They looked like us. Some younger. Hipper. Maybe dirtier. But, no, not homeless. They were organized, loud, and they made me feel kinda weird. As I watched them march down the hallway of the US Bancorp building, I couldn't help but feel the nagging sensation that I might be missing something. Do I have my head in the sand? Why aren't I standing up for myself? They're chanting about me. Yeah, I guess I got sold out.
I am by no means the protesting type. I am also not convinced that this movement is going to be effective {yes, for all of the same reasons that you are thinking right this moment}. The feeling wasn't about right or wrong, effective or nuisance. It was the feeling of odd detachment, watching other people stand up for a notion that directly affects ME. And my family. It made me think of the civil rights movement and I wondered if I had been alive then, would I have marched for equality? That wasn't easy. It certainly wasn't pretty. Or popular in most circles. I'm sure at times, that movement seemed full of crazies and had their equivalent of the directionless and homeless hangers-on. It was dramatic and sensational and a fringe movement. But the end result dramatically changed the society that I live in and I am so grateful for those that demanded change. That's all.
