What We Share in the Sunlight

"We will block your actions with one hand, and we will have the audacity to extend the other hand so that you might take it, or your children one day might take it. Because the brief high that comes from domination is nothing compared to the infinite love and joy of true community." —Valarie Kaur, Los Angeles, June 11, 2025

"How do we make peace with our bodies? There are two different ways to look at that question: one is how do I make peace with this body? But the more important question right now in this country is how do we all go out in the world and make peace with our bodies? Because nobody's gonna care what we silently believed in our houses. They're gonna ask us—in this moment—whether we were the people who went out into the world and put our bodies and our voices on the line to protect each other." —Glennon Doyle on Jimmy Kimmel, 13 June 2025

A cluster of us settled onto the cool, shaded grass within sight of the capitol dome, our voices interrupted by a toddler's squeals as he patted a friendly dog.  We carpooled up to the No Kings rally from the suburbs south of Denver - a network of women and men who have attended protests, speeches, and marches over the years. As a group, we are willing to place our bodies momentarily in public spaces alongside millions whose bodies remain perpetually vulnerable.

I wish the viewers of Fox News could have joined us yesterday to witness children chasing iridescent bubbles, to step aside for the 98-year-old navigating her wheelchair through the throngs, to hear the drummer's rhythmic plea for peace echoing off the concrete. Two radiant young women distributed golden roses throughout the crowd, and I carried one home where it now glows from my vase of blush peonies—a defiant splash of sunshine.

Young children hoisted handmade signs or rode securely in backpacks shouldered by determined parents as we moved through a forest of cardboard signs and upside-down flags (a universal symbol of SOS - my country is in trouble). The prevailing theme balanced heartbreak with humor, embracing that familiar truth: sometimes you must laugh, or risk drowning in tears.

Contrary to the narrative peddled by right-wing media, zero danger materialized. When someone revved an engine along the parade route, my shoulders tensed reflexively. I instinctively moved closer to Aden—both of us wearing faded Harvard athletic shirts in an oddly defiant gesture—scanning for any rogue vehicle threading through our peaceful procession. The surreal irony wasn't lost on me: in today's climate, being a Harvard alumna somehow feels radical. A Presbyterian minister in his own weathered shirt even approached to ask, with genuine concern, if I worried about having "a target on my back." But there was no target, and the revving engine was merely Captain America astride his motorcycle, riding brief stretches before crowds engulfed him in celebration. His shield proclaimed "No Kings in America," and our collective cheers rippled through the summer air.

One particularly honest sign declared: "we want our dysfunctional democracy back." Democracy—government by the people, for the people—will inevitably prove messy because we humans are irrevocably flawed. Yet the democratic process remains historically more effective than strongman-style autocracy. Autocrats squander precious time and resources reinforcing their tenuous power, nurturing paranoia about potential threats, and funneling wealth toward themselves and their cronies. We witnessed this yesterday in a military parade that drained taxpayers of $25-42 million—resources that could have fed America's homeless veterans and families. Meanwhile, protesters walk for free.

Don't fear those of us who want to reclaim our country. We dream of a nation where citizens with brown or black skin navigate their days without fearing they'll be profiled and disappeared by masked figures in military fatigues. A country where healthcare benefits aren't sacrificed so the wealthiest one percent can secure another tax break. A nation where scientific research and innovation flourish rather than wither, where ignorance doesn't masquerade as policy.

We pursue this vision peacefully, with our bodies and voices raised not in isolation within our houses—agonizing privately over mounting fears—but openly, in community. We march toward that shimmering dream of justice and liberty for all, extending one hand in resistance while keeping the other perpetually open, ready to welcome anyone brave enough to take it.