This morning, tens and thousands joined hands at Union Park in Chicago to #marchforourlives. Among them are students, teachers, parents, friends, activists, poets, speakers... And at the end of the march as everyone continued to chant "hey hey, ho ho, the NRA needs to go," two men showed up with a red flag written with N-R-A held up high. What a phenomenal act.
In a split second, he was crowded by anti-gun signs holding up higher than his flag, he was surrounded by youths screaming louder than his privilege could, he was dwelled in lives that he and his organization could've taken away.
Throughout the time I had so many questions rushing through my blood -- Do protests work? Will the congress vote 'no' on guns after today?Can the voice of the people finally bring justice to the lives lost? Why is it that when brown kids black kids get killed we don't have a nationwide march for them? Where are all the people I know when there are millions out here trying to make their voices heard? Is this an American issue or a humanity crisis? Do I have to be an American to feel as much pain as they do? What is my role in this because all these photographs, how do they even matter if we walked out of this march in peace while many lives are still in pieces?
I don't know. I guess we can only keep fighting, keep trying, keep proving that our lives are worth it.