My early adult years were lived during the Civil Rights movement. Protesters were marching with Martin Luther King against racism and segregation. If I wasn't on the street, I knew those who were and I sympathized and prayed with and for and supported in many different ways. Protest was a noble and non-violent way of standing for what was right and good.
I marched in front of the South African embassy against apartheid. I stood with thousands of other (mainly) women with a peace ribbon that circled Washington DC. We stood, marched, sang, wrote, for all sorts of causes that mattered.
Today's cause matters too. We are being asked to stay inside or at least go out as little as possible and support those whose work is essential to the running of civilization. And the protesters are marching against that directive, gathering in large groups, saying it is their right to gather, and willingly ignoring those of us who are elderly or sick or now any healthy age.
I have a strange feeling because this time I am not on the side of the protesters. I am insulted and even threatened by them. Of course they have a right to protest, just as we did. Only this time, by the very act of protesting, they are possibly harming themselves or others by spreading COVID-19. Sigh.
It is sort of like watching an old movie and having that weird feeling when a crowd arrives or there is no social distance and no masks. I watch and have a dislocated feeling because that is not how it is supposed to be. I'm supposed to be with them not against them. Please, go home. Keep your distance from others. Wash your hands and let the scientists do their work so we can soon be back to the gatherings that you want so badly.
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