Read the Signs
March for our Lives
Saturday, March 24, 2018
The best part of any protest. My neck still holds the echo of a dull ache, twisting and turning while I walk, trying to read them all at once. They’re creative. Informative. A bit sassy. They’re an essential part of the fight. Catchy slogans that’ll catch the camera’s eye and be shown across the country, across the world, in a succinct plea for the end to gun violence.
There were a few distinct differences between this march and others I’ve attended. For one thing, it wasn’t that long a commute from where it started at Union Station and ended in front of the National Archives. Most of the march was spent not actually marching, but bustling forward through the crowd for a better spot to stand for five hours. The amount of speeches and singers was also rare, but more fascinating than that was the ability to actually clearly hear them. No need for mike checks, the microphones were actually working, blasting their message through a comfortable crowd of thousands.
But the signs always appear. And no matter the somber tone of any demonstration, there’s a gleeful sport to engage in when nudging a neighbor’s arm and nodding over at a particularly clever line, or doubling back with several others to snap a few photos at a grinning protestor all too proud to have their work be so admired.
The authors are male and female, young and old, scattered across the races, practice various religions, identify as straight and gay, vote democrat, vote republican, never considered voting before that day. All bonded together for a single issue, the love of puns, and the eager desire to get their work published by the gaze of anyone’s camera.