take a walk
or spring into action (apologies, the pun was too easy to reach!)
Earlier this week, I had an awkward time gap to fill on the Lower East Side, so I walked through the International Center of Photography. There’s an exhibition, American Job: 1940-2011, that captured my attention with its breadth and detail, outlining the labor movements in the US over the decades and the intersections of activism, gender, solidarity, race, and equity. The photo above of the Montgomery Bus Boycott by Dan Weiner stuck with me, partially because of the placard next to the selection of photos.
Thirteen months. Over a year of walking, carpooling, and finding other ways to get around besides the local bus transit. Everyday people divesting from a system that did not serve its constituency equally. Protesters survived repeated physical attacks, legal charges, and daily difficulties, yet remained united towards one aim. I keep thinking about how long thirteen months feels when you’re living it, and how these people didn’t actually know when the endpoint would be. Their protest continued on the hope, the will, to bring about substantial change.
The weather in NYC at the moment is, in a word, dreadful. When it was peak Fake Spring1, I was at Governors Island and a fellow volunteer told me about a protest happening in Bryant Park the next Saturday, encouraging people to show up. On the morning of April 5, my resolve to show up was lacking due to the inclement conditions and unsurety of any difference this action would make. But I went anyway, wondering if others would show up through the cloudy skies and scattered showers.
On the F line, I watched people pile into the subway cars with signs and raincoats and umbrellas. The station at Bryan Park was packed, with every exit blocked by a slowly shuffling mass of humans, patiently taking one stair at a time to get above ground. The streets and sidewalks were also packed, the pace halting. Yet the air was filled with chants and cheers and frequent compliments on the cleverest signs. The five minute walk from 6th Ave to 5th Ave took about an hour, with the pace picking up as the crowd made its way down 5th Ave.
It’s hard to think of a topic that wasn’t captured by a sign, a collection of poster board to match the constant stream of executive orders and cuts passed since January.2 The cynic in me harped on the ease of a collective afternoon stroll that didn’t require many people to miss work or sacrifice much beyond art supplies, a Saturday afternoon, and the ability to stay dry. The main disruption was to anyone in a car or on a bike trying to go across town, and the blasting car horns and exasperated u-turns made it clear that unwilling sacrifices were made.
But my inner cynic was drowned out by the voices I was surrounded by, people of all ages who are also upset about the havoc being wrought by the current administration. I was reminded that I’m not alone in my anger. I was reminded of the importance of gathering, of choosing action over comfort, of intentionally uniting with others. The messages can be muddled, the efforts messy, and the impact isn’t always easy to see. Yet I was energized by a brief moment of walking together, literally.
This weekend’s action is small in the history of American protest. But I wonder if it could be a precursor, a warm up, an invitation to keep the tradition alive on the long walk ahead of us. This action is one Americans have deployed again and again to call attention to injustice, to call communities to action, and to remind ourselves and our elected politicians of our numbers.
The reminder of this history at ICP, the photographic evidence of many walks Americans have taken together to drive collective action, was poignant in this moment. If you’re in NYC, I highly recommend you check it out before it closes on May 5.3
Technically “Second Fake Spring” according to New York Metro Weather.
Saw the “Assembled in Mexico” text on the back of someone’s sign and could not stop thinking about tariffs, although Mexico has dodged the recent torrent!
If you’re in the Bay Area, the curator, Makeda Best, works at the Oakland Museum of California (OMCA) so you can check out her work there as well. If you’re in neither of those places, I have no direct recommendations! But I’m sure you can find art and protest to partake in near you <3