I had been looking forward to the March 24 peace rally in downtown Asheville. Last year, the rally seemed to have drawn … a few hundred people, many there by design, others who had wandered over to the Vance Monument after unexpectedly coming upon the gathering. This year, I brought a friend, a long-time activist from Boston who was happy to be part of Asheville’s statement against war and in support of peace.
Boy, were we surprised, first of all by the location of the rally: City/County Plaza—the very one that’s been dug up for the past year—[in] the little cul-de-sac in front of the City Hall, where you’d have to know where you were going in order to find it. (Afterwards, while wandering downtown, our antiwar stickers on our shirts, we were stopped by a couple of people asking, “Where is the peace rally?”) The second disappointment was the numbers—a handful [of people] compared to my expectation of the [several hundred] to show their support and solidarity behind this insidious war in which our country becomes more, rather than less, deeply entrenched.
My feedback to all the good-hearted rally planners: The best locations for rallies are not in little out-of-the-way cul-de-sacs. Isn’t part of the purpose to be in public view [and] catch the attention of people, so that passersby can see how important some people feel an issue to be? Perhaps to make some folks feel a bit uncomfortable, either because they realize that they, too, should be taking some kind of action, or because they simply have a different point of view on the issue and must now confront the opposition?
I felt as if I were part of a sequestered group that was given permission to peaceably assemble—provided we stayed out of the way. I think it’s time for more of us to be visible, to be heard, to step forward against so much violence and insanity. The purpose of a peace rally is to effect change in the wider community. We should be a visible presence that engages [and] impacts others—favorably or not. Whether we are the voice of dissent or the voice of support, we should allow our voices to be heard far and wide.
My friend and I left the rally not long after it began. We headed to some of Asheville’s endearing places: Blue Spiral Gallery, the Grove Arcade, Malaprop’s etc. Even though my friend didn’t get a sense of Asheville’s solidarity around peace and justice, I hope she did get a sense of the beauty and community that sets Asheville apart from so many other locations. I only wish she could have gotten a glimpse into what I thought was also a characteristic of our fair city: commitment to peace and justice at any cost.
Maybe next year.
The peace rally was a total disappointment on many levels. Having attended others in past years – this year the numbers were traumatically low. At any peace rally you will always be preaching to the choir – but I felt there were almost more organizers and presenters in attendance than actual attendees.
One thing I have noticed is that both at the vigil on 3.19 and at the rally on 3.24 a large majority of those there had grey hair or whiskers. I saw very few people between the ages of 20-35 attending – and I am not entirely sure why. Is it because they realize that their words fall on deaf ears in Washington and thus no longer speak-out? Or perhaps they just don’t want to give up their Saturdays. For whatever the reason the people who are mainly holding these rallies are left over youth from the Vietnam War era when having a rally was a necessary to-do.
Today, it doesn’t mean much at all – with the exception of breeding a sense of community within an already defined community. We will not go quietly or gently into that night … and that is why we continue to rally despite it all.