Carrying my poster, I arrived early to meet Pam at her church, St. Paul A.M.E. on MLK Boulevard. I sat on a low wall to wait for her. The passenger window of the car parked in front of me opened. I let the driver know I was waiting for Pam. The driver invited me to sit in the passenger seat, and I declined.
Within seconds, the driver walked around the front of her car and sat next to me on the wall, explaining that she was waiting for someone to come open the church so she could cook dinner for the funeral that would start that afternoon. The day before, Pam told me she was planning to pack clothes so she could go to the No Kings Day protest and be on time for the funeral of a stalwart of the church.
Sandra Williams
Pam arrived moments later and introduced us. Cora Tyson had just celebrated her 102nd birthday and had marched with Martin Luther King Jr. She had been a “house mother,” hosting the leaders of the Civil Rights Movement in the early 1960s in her home in St. Augustine. As we shook hands, I felt her holding one end of the baton of peaceful protest while I held the other end.
That morning her hands would be preparing baked chicken, yellow rice and peach cobbler for the many mourners who would arrive in a few hours. Our hands would be holding signs I hoped would be worthy of Martin Luther King’s legacy.
“I felt her holding one end of the baton of peaceful protest while I held the other end.”
Pam and I walked through America’s oldest continually occupied city to Castillo de San Marco National Monument and talked about the rights of counter-protesters and how we hoped the recent threats from Gov. Ron DeSantis and the Brevard County sheriff wouldn’t keep protesters away.
Minutes after the event’s planned start time, we neared the fort and saw hundreds of No Kings Day protesters holding signs and waving American flags inside the barricade across the street. We looked for the anticipated counter-protesters and saw just one.
All remnants of fear dissolved as we saw smiles and heard happy shouts of “USA” as passing drivers honked in support. In the center of the large field were tables with information and sign-making supplies.
There were so many people gathered under the large oak where the speakers were addressing the crowd that we couldn’t see or hear them. People of all ages were there. A bubble machine delighted children by blowing thousands of colorful soap bubbles into the breeze. We sang songs and chanted “This is what democracy looks like!”
More and more protesters joined in on the fun until we numbered into the thousands. More often than not, tourists riding open-air trollies as well as passengers and drivers in cars gave us the thumbs up or peace sign. Occasionally someone would give us a thumbs down or flip us the bird.
Like me, many people brought homemade signs. Most were humorous or used puns. The signs reminded me of the many norms, institutions and core American ideals that are under attack. An older participant, Anne, came up to me and said: “I like your sign. It tells us what we should do. The other signs talk about what not to do, but your sign gives us a direction to go in.”
She was familiar with 1 Corinthians 13:4-7. She either heard it, or read it, at the many weddings she’d attended over her lifetime.
I asked if she was familiar with the story of the Prodigal Son, and she told me she was. I shared my view that the joy and the exuberance we were feeling today was probably the same joy the father felt when he welcomed his wayward son back home. We need to be prepared to do the same thing with our crazy uncle, estranged sister and everyone else we’ve stopped talking to.
I shared with Anne my biggest fear: That when Trump’s remaining supporters wake up and discover the emperor has no clothes, they’re met with a rousing chorus of “I told you so!” and shamed for falling for his lies, or worse, feel ostracized. When a person feels as though they’re apart from society, it’s impossible for them to feel as though they’re a part of society. And when you don’t feel as though you’re a part of something, it’s much easier to justify participating in its destruction.
At the end of the rally, we were greeted with a fresh breeze as thousands of us emptied out of the park to march down the bay front, holding our signs high, singing and thanking officers along the route for their efforts. I looked over and saw the lone counter-protester. He was still there. Still alone.
Pam and I made our way back to the church, passing Mrs. Tyson’s house. A marker in her yard designates it as a stop on the Accord Freedom Trail, a free historic walking tour that retraces the steps of Martin Luther King Jr. and others who came to St. Augustine during the Civil Rights Movement.
The day after the protests, I got an email from the organizers that said in part, “We knew No Kings Day would be huge, but we never imagined just how big it would be. We turned out over 5 million people (and still counting) across 2,169 events in countries all around the globe.”
Later that Father’s Day, when the man suspected in the shootings of two Democratic Minnesota lawmakers and their spouses was apprehended, Minnesota Gov. Tim Walz said in a statement: “As a country we cannot become numb to this violence. We are a deeply divided nation. That has become even more clear over the last two days. The way we move forward and solve the problems facing our nation is not through hate. It is not through violence. It is through humility, and grace and civility.”
“I urge you, dear reader, to add your hand to the baton.”
I agree with Gov. Walz. I urge you, dear reader, to add your hand to the baton held by the millions of protesters who spilled joy into their communities on June 14, along with Gandhi, King and so many others through the ages. Please spend some time praying about 1 Corinthians 13:4-7, the parable of the Prodigal Son and re-read the red-letter parts of the Bible. If you stand in the pulpit or have any influence over the religious leaders who stand in pulpits, please encourage them to preach the gospel of love and reconciliation.
We need to show the same welcoming spirit Mrs. Tyson showed me. She offered me, a stranger, a comfortable place to sit in her car. When I declined, she left her cozy driver’s seat and sat with me, outside on a stone wall. If we don’t act with Mrs. Tyson’s welcoming spirit, humility and willingness to connect, I’m afraid our country’s division never will be healed.
Write a list of the loved ones you’ve lost because of politics. Then, promise to reach out to one every week. Call them up just to talk about the weather and the things you have in common. Give that uncle a call and check in with him. Ask him to tell you about how he met your aunt and laugh together as you share family memories.
I believe the end of the journey to freedom and democracy will come when all of us join hands on the baton of peaceful protest by loving each other. In the red-letter words of John 13:34, “A new command I give you: Love one another. As I have loved you, so you must love one another.” Remember too that Jesus loved society’s outcasts: Prostitutes, lepers, tax collectors and other people not like him — he loved them all.
Sandra “Sam” Williams lives in St. Augustine, Fla.
Related articles:
How I’m preparing for No Kings Day | Opinion by Sandra “Sam” Williams
What participants saw at No Kings protests across the country