Going into my first protest, I didn’t know what to expect. I mean, would you? There were no directions on what was going to happen, just to meet at 5th and Market Street in Philadelphia at 9:30 in the morning.
The night before, my friends and I prepared signs in my living room, bubbling with excitement and nerves as to how the next day would go. I’ve thought about going to many different protests as I’ve started to educate myself more and more on politics and the injustice that goes on every day, so the fact it was actually about to happen made things more surreal. The next morning we went about our routines, talking about how many people we thought would be there and sipping on our coffee. We finished up and ordered the Lyft, feeling ready to take on the world and fight anyone who tried to get in our way. We made casual conversation with our driver and shortly after we got into the car, we got out at our destination. My friends and I laughed because we didn’t see many people there at first. Granted, we got there about an hour early, but I think we were expecting it to be packed. We then walked a few blocks down to Dunkin Donuts to start our day off on the right foot with a bacon, egg, and cheese on a croissant.
When we finished eating, we walked to the meeting spot and saw more people. It was starting to look like a real protest was about to happen. We moved into the street, thinking we were ready to start marching, but we ended up staying put for around 30-45 minutes. We still don’t know why, but it made everything worth it when we finally started moving. It also gave us time to read different signs that people made. As we started to walk, the realization set in. This was our first protest and we were truly apart of something, a movement. You could feel the excitement reverberating in the crowd. As we were walking people started to chant different things like, “Vote them out!” and (a personal favorite of mine), “Hey, hey NRA! How many kids have you killed today?” The group that I was with also started, “We call BS!” which picked up and went around for a bit.
When we got to the end of the march we stood around some more, but eventually the students who started the march in Philadelphia and different politicians spoke out about gun control. A father of one of the students at Marjory Stoneman Douglas High School spoke about how his son could have been one of the victims because he bumped into the shooter in the stairwell, but the shooter was reloading his gun so he was able to escape.
Being able to hear different people speak about gun control and voice the words that I have thought over and over again was important for me because it showed hope. It showed that there are people who believe the same things as me: to make it harder to access guns, ban the AR-15, and stop having school shootings every 63 hours in the United States. As a future educator, I want to be able to teach my students in a safe environment. I want to have access to new and upcoming technology, a small class size so I can efficiently get to know my students, and books that reach every child’s reading level. I want my future job to be a teacher, not a bullet-taker.
Overall, going to the March for our Lives in Philadelphia was very empowering to know that I was apart of history. It was great to be able to show my support for something I am so passionate about and it’s letting politicians and the NRA know that we aren’t backing down any time soon and that they will be voted out come November. I am fortunate enough to be able to use my voice to fight for people who can’t and it’s time for change to happen.
If you aren’t angry, you aren’t paying attention,
Hannah