NO KINGS Rally

Image:Samar Ahmed

Bearing Witness: Reflections on the No Kings Rally

Today, I had the opportunity to participate in the No Kings Rally once again. It wasn’t my first time being part of it, but this year was the first time I truly experienced the full breadth and depth of the rally and the march.

I found myself on the front line, standing as clergy with 10,000 people behind me. The clergy were asked to lead the march a request I’ll reflect on more deeply in a future post. Spirit led me to call upon other clergy in my tradition to join me, and for their presence, I am deeply grateful.

I couldn’t help but think of the words from the Book of Esther: “For such a time as this.” My family urged me to be careful, warning that “there are so many crazy people out here.” But the truth is, perhaps being too careful is part of why this abomination has been allowed to happen. Maybe, just maybe, we have been too careful and in doing so, careless with our collective humanity.

Last year, I arrived only at the very end just in time to see the tail of the march, not to walk in it. But this year, I was there from the beginning, fully immersed in both the rally and the march. I felt the energy, the purpose, and the history pulsing through every step.

There were over 10,000 walkers perhaps even more. As I walked, I felt my ancestors beside me. My hip ached, and there were moments I thought I might have to stop. At times, I leaned on one of my fellow priests for support. But then, just when I needed it most, a surge of strength would rise up from deep within ancestral, spiritual, sustaining and I kept going.

I walked as a mother. That was my reason. Because every person there every marcher, every face in the crowd had a mother. I felt called to step into that sacred role: to help create space to correct what is broken, not only for Black people but for humanity as a whole. Things are not working well for so many the poor, the marginalized, the sick, the elderly, women, people of color, LGBTQ+ communities, and all those without power or privilege.

There’s a hymn that says:

“Order my steps in Your word, dear Lord.Lead me, guide me every day.”

That’s exactly what this felt like a first step in re-ordering, guided by the spirit of the ancestors who came before me. Reordering what has been broken. And the first act in that process is bearing witness.

I am bearing witness to injustice not just against Black people, but against all people who are being harmed by systems that deny their dignity. And who better to speak up than a mother? Not only a mother to my own children, but a mother who cares for everyone’s children.

For such a time as this, truth must be told—what has happened, what is happening, and what we can do to make it better. In my mind, I could hear the old freedom song:

“Ain’t gonna let nobody turn me around,Turn me around, turn me around…”

That song reminded me: I have to keep on pushing for this thing called democracy. No, it’s not perfect. It’s not easy. It must be fought for not with knives or guns or bombs, but with ideals, actions, words, and above all, love.

When we began the march, we chanted, “Love thy neighbor.”That’s what this movement is about a mother’s love, extending to her neighbors, her neighbors’ children, and all families striving for justice in this imperfect union.