DISCLAIMER: That is a picture of my sister and a group photo above. Enjoy this story time!
There has been tons of hatred towards Asians, African Americans, Hispanics, members of the LGBTQ+ community, and even women and that just doesn't sit right with me. Last year, during the summer, I attended my first protest. I remember everything like it was yesterday. I was a nervous mess prior to the protest. I didn't know what to expect, what to wear, and what to do.
My sister and I went to the nearest Dollar Tree, which was about one mile away, to get masks (since we were fresh out of quarantine), poster cards, markers, and snacks for a huge milestone in my life: my first protest. It was also my first time in a store since quarantine began, so I was extremely paranoid in the store. As we gathered everything we needed for the protest, I realized the time was getting closer.
Going to the protest was not my idea, obviously, because speaking out publicly against issues was just not my thing. I would post about Black Lives Matter, but going to a protest is just a different level. We finally got everything we needed and headed back to the house. Immediately, my siblings and I got started on our protest posters. I was stressed out and I didn't know what to put on my poster. I knew what my poster said would be a message, so how could I send a message without being cliche or saying something that would make me look frivolous? I began to over think it and an hour later, nothing was on my poster, meanwhile everyone was done and it was almost time to go.
My sister said, "Cassidy! Hurry up. Just put something down. We have to go." At that moments I got flustered and freaked. Why was writing something down on a poster so nerve wrecking for me?!
At this point, I just started drawing in hopes of me not making a full of myself because we had 30 minutes to load up the care and head that way. My poster was a drawing of a beautiful brown queen with an afro that had a shirt that said "Got Justice?" I was scared to show people because I didn't know if it was sending a strong message or not. As I sat in the car on the way there, I started to calm down. I looked out side and kept breathing, knowing that no matter what, this would be a positive impact.
We arrived and I saw so many familiar faces. I soon found out that it wasn't a huge protest because it was hosted by someone close to my family. They went over the peaceful protest rules and I was still low-key freaking out because I have never done anything like this, so finally it came time to march.
We were all partnered up and ready to go. We sang uplifting and spiritual songs, prayed on behave of the families who lot their loved one, yelled important messages out, recited poetry, and spoke on what fighting for these things meant to our community. I walked with so much pride that day. I looked around and thanked God for the opportunity to be able to participate in such a movement. Tears of joy trickled down my cheeks and my heart was overwhelmed with pride in our culture, resilience, and positive approach to what has been done to black people for generations, after generations, after generations, after generations, and so on. I was always proud to not only be black, but to be a black woman, but something about this day felt different. When I public showed how proud I was to be black and told others our life matters it felt like I really had the chance to change someone or something for the better.
My picture before the peaceful march. You can see the nerves in my face. LOL!
It was a life changing experience and since that day, I haven't stopped advocating for issues that matter to me. I don't go to every protest, but I do challenge those who are against inclusive action and diversity. I want to influence the world and positively make change in my community and the world. The hatred has got to end and I am not waiting around for it.
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