Voice of a Protester by Jill Hill
I drove to Sacramento last week to attend the protest. When seeing the young people with signs I broke down and sobbed. I drove to the protest here in Grass Valley expecting to see the regular 10 activists who protest around here. When I pulled into Bruinswick, the streets were lined with 250 people holding signs. Again I had the same reaction. I sobbed. I wasn’t alone and people were lining the streets saying it out loud. The feelings of anger and pain I have stuffed for two years, while trying to keep my family together and survive, came pouring out.
I met a woman who is a nurse practitioner who moved here from Oregon after losing her home. She is renting a house and barely making ends meet. She and I got had a conversation with a school teacher who had also lost her home after her job went part time. We all ended up in tears as we discussed how we have felt so alone and forgotten.
There was a couple next to us who had lost their home after their son became ill with a sign that said ‘justice’. They are wondering what happened. We talked about how we did everything ‘right’ as far as the American dream. We bought houses to raise our families in and worked our whole lives and paid our taxes. And now we were protesting because as we lost everything and kept quiet while they’re attempting to fix it. They still aren’t going to tax the 1% and congress isn’t even trying. Enough is enough.
I’ll be out with the protesters. It felt so good to do something physical. You’re right about nothing left to lose. People worry about violence. I’m ready for a civil war if that’s what it takes.