January 21, 2017: March Unafraid.

Because I am afraid. That is why I march. I march because I am Jewish. And people hate me for it. Without even knowing me. You dont even know me. Get to know me. Then hate me for real reasons.

I cant breathe. I cant go to the march. I am too scared. There are too many people going. Write your name on your arm with a Sharpie, the Facebook post says. Because the Crayola marker will wear off in the trampling? Stay to the edge of the marching line. Dont get caught in the middle of the crowd. Because that is where I will get punched and nobody will notice? Why am I doing this? Why does it even matter? Its not going to change anything.

Will it change me? Will it stop this constant fear that I feel when hearing the news? Will it help me to stand up and shout that I wont take it. I will not accept this new reality. I will not be a party to it. I will fight. I will fight.

Who will I fight? How? Dont I have to be unafraid? But I am not unafraid. I am very afraid. I am afraid of those who dont even think about their hate. I am afraid of the valid reasons that they have come up with to hate people and be violent against them. I fear that what I do doesnt matter. That hate will always exist. Look where we are right now. So, why bother?

For my children. If I dont stand up because of my fears, how can I tell them to? If I do stand up, maybe, just maybe, we can effect enough change so that they dont have to stand up. They can sit down in peace.

That is what I tell myself. That my feet and my steps can have an effect. But what if they dont? What if the effect is only on me?

What if the effect is only on me?

We must always take sides. Neutrality helps the oppressor, never the victim. Silence encourages the tormentor, never the tormented. -Eli Wiesel

I want to scream! How did we get here? Why cant we learn from each other? Why? Let our children grow into who they want to be. Build a positive environment around them. It will make us all stronger. Nothing beautiful has ever been built on hate. Hate is not where to find your power. Like a toddler, I want to stomp my feet and scream at the injustices that I see around me.

Why are you freaking out, my husband asks. I am afraid. Of hate. I cant breathe when I think about it. Of the crowds and how it will be skewed and twisted on the internet to make good, inspiring moments look bad or bad things look acceptable. Of going to a non-violent march and fearing not being able to come home because someone gets violent. I dont want to go. I am afraid to go. But I also feel like I have to.

I march because I am afraid.

Afraid to march. Afraid that I feel like I have to stand up in order to even be heard.

But more afraid to sit down and just be afraid.

I will march because as every New Yorker knows, as every sign, in every train station very eloquently tells us: If you see something, say something.

Well, heres the thing.

I see something.