We can find hope together

I’m on speaker phone and my parents are arguing,something I’ve rarely heard them do.

In the pre-Trump era, the closest I ever knew my mother to attending a rally was a non-profit board meeting. But now she wants to go to the Women’s March on Washington, a demonstrative protest scheduled for January 21st. My dad thinks it’s foolhardy, even dangerous.

Exactly one week after the election, the American Jewish Committee and the Islamic Society of North America partnered up to form The Muslim-Jewish Advisory Council in response to anti-semitism and Islamophobia.

My brother’s never been an activist either. More of a band geek/rock climber. Yet he called me during election night, as the results were starting to crystalize, voice shaking. “How could this happen?” Days later he had posted a Google Doc in his Facebook status with the following text:

Now is the time for us to take action and stand up for the causes we believe in. With that in mind here [are] the beginnings of a list of local New Haven organizations that could use your help.

My heart swelled until it became a lump in my throat.

And to be honest, I’ve never been much of an activist, either. Yet Thursday morning found me in Rite Aid, stocking up on sidewalk chalk. I went first to Union Station and then to the 16th Street Mall to write on the sidewalk, “What gives me hope is … ” and invite passersby to contribute.

A lot of people wrote Jesus. One guy wrote tequila. But it’s the fact that people wrote at all that finally pushed the frustrated tears that had been threatening me since waking up that morning firmly back into my tear ducts.

On November 10th, people chalked the sidewalk outside of the Islamic Center of Nashville. The messages?

We stand with you. We see you and we want you here. We <3 you.

Let’s talk about the fact that he got elected in the first place. I like to think, at least, that this is partly a backlash against the forces of compassion and plurality that are growing stronger every day. Maybe this makes life sound too much like a comic book.

On November 9th, I was in a coffee shop fashioning myself a life preserver: a list, post-election, of what gave me hope. But the words of a nearby conversation kept interrupting my thoughts: women discussing recent events. I needed the fellowship, so I sauntered over. Where were they managing to find hope that day?

For one, it was the fact that people seemed to be rallying together behind progressive causes in general. For another, hope came through her work. Beth works with The Blue Bench, a comprehensive sexual-assault center providing counseling, a 24-hour hotline, and other services. In the first 36 hours after the election, the organization had received 30 volunteer applications. It normally sees between five and ten in an entire week. When I email Beth a week after our conversation, she writes:

“I think that is one of the biggest things that has given me hope, that people are moved to take action. The work of my organization … will continue regardless of who’s in the White House.”

This past week has witnessed Americans falling victim to hate speech and to physical assault. We have read about various nefarious nominees for White House cabinet positions and fretted over rumors of hostile, even negligent legislation. But there has also been an outpouring of love speech. Of rallies. Of petitions, of intentional coffee-shop conversations, of volunteers. Of action.

I just hope it continues.