As the chords fell like raindrops before Gerard Way started singing “Welcome to the Black Parade,” he recalled a parade at which his father asked him, “Son, when you grow up / Would you be the savior of the broken / The beaten and the damned?”
It was a perfect mixture of Halloween and late summer. Just like a costume parade, people of all backgrounds, parties and ages were decked in garments of “Tyranny-Saurus” rexes, British colonialists, witches and more, donning capes of American flags and rainbows. The crowd was dressed as a testament to the power of people. Many signs sprouted from raised hands, declaring each person’s rallying cry against the president. It was a costume parade—the more dressed up a person was, the more committed they were to freely expressing their opinion, the more they stood out from the crowd. The more garish and courageous—the more American.
As glistening bubbles floated gently through the crowd, against all odds, I could see smiles passing over several people’s faces. It was not only an invitation to bright, sunny days—it was a reminder to everyone that standing up for yourself is fun. At some point in the parade, a small but boisterous group of children started to chant all by themselves: “No hate, no fear, immigrants are welcome here!” Their high-pitched voices held the bite that many of the adults’ could not—a sad but necessary representation of the American people. We are all the witnesses of the crimes done by the president and responsible for the creation of the future.
The “No Kings” protest was so large that I began to wonder who wasn’t there. Yet, for all the children with their parents, elderly couples and adults, I could not find many who appeared to be college students. It was strange because there were many reasons why a college student should have been there. From the bubbles to the stickers to the streaming of Sara Bareilles’ “Brave,” reminding everyone that they, too, can have courage during these seemingly endless dark times, everything in the parade resembled college to me. As people donned both their courage and playful sides, becoming strangers with a united purpose, I wanted to see the same energy at our university.
There is plenty of irony in our nation’s government. Students like us can and should be at the forefront of the resistance. The question is not what we believe—most of us, whether Democrat or Republican, disagree with issues like the detainment of immigrants, the suppression of free speech and the deployment of federal troops. It is how and when we are willing to stand up for what we believe in. We can either sit on the sidelines or we can show up as ourselves, whether that means holding up a protest sign, being loud, being bold or, if you feel so inclined, dressing as an inflatable anti-tyranny dinosaur and “say[ing] what you want to say” like Bareilles sings.
As American flags waved from people’s pockets and across shoulders like the capes of superheroes, the moving nature of the U.S. Constitution seemed to materialize before us. The signs expressed various ironies about the current administration. “We are a land of immigrants,” one read, in acknowledgment of the recent Immigration and Customs Enforcement arrests. Another read, “the village idiot thinks he can be king,” as if our nation is a parable whose ending has yet to be written, awaiting the actions and responses of the American people. Another held up in the hands of a little girl read “I’m with her!” It is difficult to imagine having to explain to a child the allegations of sexual assault attached to the president.
As “No Kings” day showed, there is plenty of overlap in the beliefs of many Americans and no lack of courage in individuals. The power is, as it always will be, with the people: us. There was a reason why so many people were there, why it was so welcoming and why play and resistance fit hand in hand in a way I had never seen before. It is because “no kings” means that everyone is welcome—everyone has a cape in their own story. People can stand out with all their creativity and courage not just to protest, but to parade for what they believe in. They can celebrate their freedom and the strength of their unity in the midst of relentless abuses of power.
Will you “be the savior of the broken / The beaten and the damned?” Or will you look away? Personally, I’ll be donning Wonder Woman’s American flag for the black parade this Halloween. How about you?