“Never doubt that a small group of thoughtful, committed citizens can change the world; indeed, it’s the only thing that ever has.”
– Margaret Mead
The last time I participated in a protest march, I was in High School. I skipped class to protest the Gulf War. I did it because I wanted to stand up for the innocent caught in power wars over resources. My parents, boomers, of the hippy generation (although my dad insists that he was ‘beatnik’), protested. I marched as a child in Vancouver’s Peace March along with my parents.
Now I’m the parent and am moved to march for the first time in decades. What for? I live a comfortable life. I’m not starving. Im not cradling a dying baby, looking for a disappeared son or daughter. Why me? Why now? Why am I moved and incensed?
I want the simple right to know what’s…
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