When the New Generation Comes Marching In

I don't remember learning The Pledge of Allegiance or The National Anthem. It often seems that American born children are born with the words imprinted in our DNA. We begin learning these patriotic rites at the same time we learn to identify letters and colors and numbers and shapes. They have become a fundamental aspect of basic education to the extent that our children are unable to avoid it. To call it a sort of brainwashing would be harsh, although accurate. 

I am proud to be an American. Don't get me wrong, I love my country, and I thank my lucky stars (and stripes) every day to have been born into it. I am proud that we are a nation of the people and for the people. And for that reason, we are a living and breathing nation. We are subject to constant change, not simply by nature of our democracy, but by our duty to it. To blindly follow the social norms stagnates society and threatens democracy. Norms change, as evidenced by endless leaders in our society. 

poster seen before the Trump Hotel at the entrance to Pennsylvania Ave, where the march rally was held.

The very start of our nation takes roots in rising up against an injustice, as our founding fathers renounced British tyranny. Again it was challenged with Lincoln and the Union questioning slavery, with Alice Paul, Susan B. Anthony, Elizabeth Cady Stanton, and countless other women demanding suffrage, with MLK Jr., Malcolm X, Rosa Parks, and innumerable other people of color calling for basic equality.

poster held by a protester in front of the National Archives. 

Today, as I stood in a sea of strangers united under one goal, for many reasons, and for one cause, I was struck by the power of this change. I am, of course, referring to the March for Our Lives. 

The most striking and inspiring aspect of this event was not the sheer size of it, though it was larger than I could have ever conceived, but was its organizers, all of them mere 'children.' My entire life, I have been frustrated by adults who ignored my words and disregarded my thoughts as underdeveloped by lack of experience. Yet, I've been one of the lucky few born into an affluent white community that supports and cultivates its youth. If I have encountered this struggle in my daily life, I cannot envision the state of children in less fortunate circumstances. 

A young girl perched on her father's shoulders displaying a sign reading "School should not be a game of chance."

And as aggravating as this phenomenon is, complaining about it will solve nothing. But opposing it, challenging it, can and has yielded something amazing. Yes, I fully support an assault weapons ban, a reduction in magazine capacity, and universal background checks. I will continue to fight for this, alongside all my companions at the march, until a resolution is passed. The most amazing part, in my mind, however, is that there is now a modern example of heroic children. We no longer have to turn back time six centuries to Joan of Arc in order to revere a young and powerful leader. The voices I and millions of other heard today were as young as 9 year old Yolanda Renee King, MLK's granddaughter herself. I was inspired by child after child, youth after youth, teenager after teenager, student after student. They kept referring to themselves as the future of America, but it seems to me that they have made themselves its present. 

The same young girl turned to view the stage at the base of Pennsylvania Ave. 

Someday, when I (hopefully) have my own children, I will sit them down and tell them the story of tonight, as Lin Manuel Miranda aptly called it. I will tell them that no one has the power to silence their voice or disregard their opinion unless they let them. I will tell them that being young doesn't necessarily make you naive. I will tell them that no matter you're age, your thoughts are your own, and they deserve to be heard and respected. I will tell them of 11 year old Naomi, of her eloquent fight against gun violence and I will share with them her words: 

Protesters spanning the seven blocks between myself and the steps of the Capitol. 

"People have said that I am too young to have these thoughts on my own. People have said I am a tool of some nameless adult. It's not true. My friends and I might still be 11, and we might still be in Elementary School, but we know. We know life isn't equal for everyone, and we know what is right and wrong. We also  know that we stand in the shadow of the Capitol and we know that we have 7 short years until we too have the right to vote."

In silences between presenters, the crowd would chant "vote them out! Vote them out!"

I will tell them that this march, organized and fund-raised by the students who led it was not a march of spearation. It was inclusive. That although it was started by another group of affluent white students, it was strengthened by the testimony of those who bore witness to gun violence in Chicago, South L.A., Brooklyn, Washington D.C., and Newtown, Connecticut. I will tell them that the power of youth is to forge bonds between individuals that history has not yet jaded. 

Two ladies pictured walking towards the National Archives wearing sweatshirts honoring loved ones lost in the Las Vegas shooting.

And so to make change in this beautiful country, to pay proper homage to her spirit, we must constantly question her. We must constantly question atrocities we see so that they do not become norms. We must talk to one another, not just the ones we agree with, but the ones we clash with. We must learn to listen to other opinions and to speak to them kindly and to learn from them. Not only does that include different parties, ethnicities, religions, sexual orientations, genders, income brackets, regions, and races, but different ages. Today, I was reminded of this essential cause, and I don't intend to forget it.