The Art Of Protesting
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Politics

The Art Of Protesting

The importance of speaking against a regime.

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The Art Of Protesting
Kelsey Fiander-Carr

In late January, the United States saw the passing of presidency from Barack Obama to Donald Trump. This election spewed numerous controversies as Trump’s new policies for America were viewed as hateful and “un-American.” With this, after the election, many protests, demonstrations, and marches occurred all over the world in hopes of halting and changing some of Trump’s malicious policies. In particular, Trump’s travel ban paved the way for thousands of Americans to come together against hate, prejudice, and fear. Most notably, many of these “no ban, no wall” protests occurred in international airports around the country. I had the privilege of immersing myself into the protest at Philadelphia International Airport. There, I stood by my fellow Americans to preach love and acceptance over the fear of Islamic people.

Before attending, I had some of my own fears. I feared that there would be violence. Although I thought of police brutality against the protesters, I also feared running into those who agree with the ban. I also feared that the protesters I was surrounded by would be violent. I was definitely worried that these protesters would reflect what the media was showing. Also, even before this protest, I attended a march on Washington the day of the president’s inauguration. I saw fights, heard screams, and ran from vandalizers. All of these thoughts were seeped into my brain even before reaching the airport. I assumed that this would be my reality if I were to protest in Philadelphia. I packed rags soaked in vinegar to help me if there were to be tear-gas thrown at me. I wrote the number to a lawyer on my forearm who would help in case I were to be arrested.

However, as I approached the protest, I saw people singing, dancing, and cheering. I thought that I might have been in the wrong place! This sight was practically the opposite from my prior perception. I only saw love. I saw people handing out pre-made posters. I saw people hugging complete strangers. A fellow protester even took pictures of me and my friends so we could spread the word of our work through social media.

My friends and I found out about the “no ban, no wall” protest via Facebook. However, it was a bit confusing as to what we were going for as there was a previous protest for the same reason just a few days prior. This confusion dissipated after attending the protest. I found out later that I was protesting for a single woman in correspondence to a larger cause. Before the travel ban was enacted, a woman from Syria was approved to leave her hometown and fly to the United States. This lifelong dream of hers was put to a screeching halt as the travel ban was enacted as she was in the plane, making her way to the United States. She was stopped in Philadelphia after landing. This woman was released after nearly 5000 protesters came to her aide.

Before I starting protesting, I never thought it would become my reality. I was always for justice, but for the justice of me and people like me. In high school, I was in a bubble that liked reading about news, but I never thought that I could have an effect on the outcome of a very diverse society. However, I saw coming to college that even the most different people from me are actually similar. The people I was protesting against were similar to me in a sense that we all love America. It is just that I love an inclusive America- not one spawned from hate and fueled by prejudice. I also began to see that the people I was protesting for were very similar to me. These refugees want to live in a safe environment, something that America wants as well. But, I learned that violence will find its way no matter what. Banning a group of people will not protect us from terrorists. Standing together as an accepting and loving united front is out only chance of fighting a violent predator.

Being immersed into another culture by protesting allowed me to learn more about the people I was fighting for. I am guilty of ‘Islamophobia.’ I, at one point, looked at every Islamic person twice at the airport as I boarded a plane. This prejudice was imbedded into me from an early age. Children of my generation, those who were born during the ‘War on Terror,’ were made to believe that Muslims were our enemy. However, the true enemy is terrorism. I realized this sensitivity while I was protesting. Islamic people are constantly portrayed as a terrorists. They are constantly viewed as violent. This natural assumption is not normal. Although my prototype of a terrorist is an Islamic person, I am constantly fighting to paint a different picture. Attending these protests have allowed me to defend and protect my fellow Americans and my fellow humans while changing my own perception.

Protesting is so much more than what is portrayed in the media. We fight for justice. We notice our own privilege and how we cannot be ignorant to the fact that some do not share in our privilege. I am a middle-class white woman. Yes, I am oppressed in some scenarios, but the fact is, I do not have to worry about being deported. I do not have to worry about being caught in immediate warfare with little hope of traveling somewhere else. The true art of protesting is realizing that others need your assistance. Americans have the power to speak against a fascist regime at a pivotal time in history. Major changes in this nation came from the protests of others. Racial, gender, and marriage equality came from decades of marches, demonstrations, and protests. Protesting has the power to change the course of human history and the face of the United States.



Submitted as a Social Work class paper in the spring of 2017

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