Last Saturday afternoon, two weeks after Charlottesville, one week after Boston, the same weekend that white nationalist groups planned to march in San Francisco and Berkeley, in 100-plus degree heat on the sun-soaked plaza, the residents of Healdsburg showed up.
People told me that they showed up because they were angry or sad or confused, because they needed hope and wanted to help. They showed up because they understood that only way to stop Charlottesville from repeating itself over and over again is to start to dismantle the fallacy that white supremacy belongs to another time, or another place, or other people.
From the gazebo, looking out over a crowd of a few hundred, I said: I want to thank everyone who is here today. Thank you to all our presenters. You are politicians, faith leaders, musicians, nonprofit leaders, business owners and private residents who are willing to stand up and speak your truth in a public setting during a very fraught moment in our country.
And I want to thank all of you who came to listen. Perhaps that was an easy decision. Perhaps it came with a twinge of fear, or maybe more than a twinge.
To those of you who brought your children: This is a powerful lesson in democracy and in our obligations to each other to show up and to stand up when we ourselves, our neighbors, or perfect strangers are being threatened.
Showing up to a rally — even a rally for peace in a small city — when there is unrest, is a brave and powerful statement for justice. And it’s hugely important to counter a narrative of hate with one of unity, love and commitment to each other.
Those of you who know me well know that I don’t usually struggle with words. But, it has been difficult to find words these last few weeks to respond to the abhorrent ideologies on full display in Charlottesville, in Boston, in the White House and around the country.
When I am at a loss, or when I simply need help finding light in a time of darkness, I often turn to Reb Irwin Keller of Congregation Ner Shalom in Cotati, who always manages to find a way to bring me hope without ignoring the state of our union. Two weeks ago, Reb Irwin spoke about systemic racism and entrenched white supremacy. He talked about hatred emboldened and anti-Semitism on the rise again in America. And then, because he is stronger than I am, he said that he was hopeful. He said:
“The hope I’m feeling today comes from the fact that our eyes are open. We are much more aware today than many of us were a week ago of what we have to change in this country. It is a taller order than our experience led us to believe. But now we see it for what it is.
“Are our progressive hopes delusions? No. I believe that Dr. King got it right when he said that the arc of history bends toward justice. We just have to know that the arc is a longer trajectory than we’d like. We will be part of the change, even though we won’t live to see its completion. We know now that addressing racism and anti-Semitism can’t be done with civil rights laws alone, even though those are important. But instead we must keep the conversations deep. We must insist on looking at history. Looking at this country’s history. It is not enough to condemn hate. We must look at why white people have been conditioned to hate black people; why non-Jews have been conditioned to hate Jews. We must do our own work to look at how we also subscribe to racism and anti-Semitism, because we do. And how in many cases we benefit from it, because we do. We must show up at the marches, we must stand in solidarity, we must keep learning and we must never simplify.
“There is work ahead. Beautiful work. Meaningful work. It is inviting us, calling to us. Asking us to give up our platitudes and our memes and to plumb the depths of our culture’s psyche and our own … And this new, deeper task excites me. And the thought of our doing it together gives me more hope than I could have imagined.”
One week later, I listened to a friend of mine talk to a group of children about courage. He told them that having courage is not the same as being fearless. He quoted John Wayne, who put it like this: “Courage is being scared to death, but saddling up anyway.”
There is a lot of fear these days. I am afraid, and when I am alone, I am weak. But together, with the rest of my community, fighting the good fight for peace — not the kind of peace that requires maintaining the status quo, but the kind that demands justice and equity and working through our problems, rather than sweeping them under the rug, I am fighting that fight with you.
Alone, I am afraid. With you, I find my courage.
Alone, I am weak. With you, together, we are fierce.
Jenny Levine-Smith is a Healdsburg resident, an educator and a member of BridgeLab, a women-led group in Healdsburg dedicated to empowering a just and compassionate world through civic action, creative events and education. The Rally for Peace was co-sponsored by Corazon Healdsburg, Indivisible Healdsburg and the Sonoma County ACLU.
