this is what democracy looks like

If 300,000 people take to the streets of Manhattan to protest the war in Iraq, will anyone notice? Will anything change? Will the protest itself make headlines for exactly one news cycle (if that) then just conveniently fade from memory as the national consciousness reverts back to Suri TomKat or BranJelina?

I asked myself these questions Saturday afternoon when the BF and I took part in the April 29 March for Peace, which flooded Broadway from Union Square to City Hall. I'd heard nothing about the march beforehand, but the BF had turned up a link on Craigslist last week (his latest obsession, god save us all) and insisted we check it out.

This being my first peace protest, I was fascinated by the character of the participants. We were near the front of the parade, which tended to be middle-aged and married white folks, with more than a few kids in tow. Further back the group appeared to get younger and more radical, with many NYU students and alternatypes.

Though the tone of the march was decidedly political — with the ire of the crowd aimed squarely at our Decider in Chief — I felt like the marchers around us were mostly reluctant protesters at best. It was hard to get them engaged in the chants of the crowd, some of which were more successful than others. People seemed to embrace

Show me what Democracy looks like
This is what Democracy looks like

But were less enthusiastic about
Bush, you liar, your cowboy ass is fired.

Almost any mention of profanity had the parents around us blushing a bit, though they were all too politiely liberal to ask the chick with the bullhorn to tone it down.

I was astounded by the creativity of some of the marchers, who'd built complicated effigies of the Bush administration. The most powerful display involved these huge paper masks of grief-striken Iraqi mothers, each of them carrying cardboard bodies of their fallen. No words, just symbols, but so powerful.


The march culminated downtown, appropriately enough, at Thomas Paine Park, where we saw Jesse Jackson speak alongside Cindy Sheehan. We also had to duck out the way of a flank of belly dancers, gyrating through a public performance. (The BF remarked, "Imagine if we sent the belly dancers into battle. The enemy would run screaming.")

But words fail to describe the magnitude of this afternoon, even if it did get lost in the black hole of cable news. Some photos: