I decided that I was not going to be someone who complains, but does nothing to try and help.
I decided that as a daughter of an immigrant, I would stand behind others who simply deserve a chance.
I decided that if I were in their shoes, I would want someone to fight for me too.
My daily YouTube binge watching session was interrupted by receiving a notification about yet another political news story. I tapped the notification on my barely charged iPhone and timidly read the breaking story about what would soon cause a near national outrage. The executive order by President Trump urged a ban on travel from seven Muslim majority countries as well as a halt on refugee admissions to the United States. Although I am sure it was proposed with good intentions, myself as well as many other Americans quickly read through the lines. As my binge watching session soon turned into a pretending to do homework session, I received another notification about a protest that had formed at the New York JFK airport. Citizens of all different backgrounds had marched to terminals of the airport in response to the people who had been detained solely due to their nationality, as well as the xenophobic mentality behind the ban. When I found out that many other cities had followed suit and had planned protests the following day in their own respective cities, one of which was my own city of Orlando, my schedule had suddenly become clear.
That next gloomy Sunday morning I drove myself and a friend to the glorious world of Walmart for materials to make our signs for the protest. I tossed around ideas in my mind for what I would write on my $1 poster board throughout the whole drive to our meeting place. Everyone was told to meet in a shopping plaza right next to the MCO airport so that we could all receive instructions on how to make our efforts as safe and effective as possible before we start. One of the night clubs in the plaza had been gracious enough to open their doors for everyone to congregate inside. When we arrived, everyone was inside working on their own signs and making friendly conversation. I decided on take a more general approach to my poster board while my friend Zach decided to take a more…. interesting approach (A decision that would prompt many people to stop, laugh, and ask for pictures).
We made friends and waited with another group of teenagers who we found out went to our university. By the time the leaders of the protest started to speak, the entire room was full and more people had to stand outside because of just how crowded it had become. We were given a briefing of the plan and a sheet of paper of all the chants they had lined up for us to do once we arrived.
Our spirits were high and it was then time for us all to get in our cars to ride over to the airport. Everyone parked on the same floor and gathered in front of the elevator doors with their signs in hand. I am so honored to have been a part of such an amazing day in my city that I have grown so fond of. Hundreds of men, women, and children peacefully marched through the airport gathering support from each person they passed. All the store workers, airport inhabitants, and security guards cheered us on with their smart phones held up high to record the now over crowded halls. I was so over whelmed with emotions that I just kept repeating the words, “This is so amazing.” We marched, we chanted, and we all felt a sense of togetherness that is almost indescribable. Many smiling faces of the passing travelers cheered and gave us high fives as we made our way back outside. I only saw one frowning face throughout the whole process, but I choose to believe that the tired old man was simply experiencing an extreme case of jetlag. Our voices were definitely heard and I would not trade the experience for anything.
Photo credit: Image 1, Image 5, (others are taken by writer)