Commentary by Terry Anker
“I’m here for the oppressed,” she said through her stylish cashmere Burberry scarf, with her blue-green eyes peering from the gap between it and the hand-knitted pink cap in a carefully formed cat-ear design pulled down tightly in an effort to appear serious. Perhaps she was. But it seemed like she was there more for the fun of it all.
We humans are a protesting lot. It all starts as we sit in our high chairs, asserting our first toddling attempts at independence from our life-giving parents, and refuse to eat our peas. When mother encourages us to consume the spherical green seeds, we protest – throwing back our heads and screaming until the walls shake. We are unhappy. And you NEED to know about it.
In this long tradition of sharing our own personal point of view, many stand ready to stand for or stand against – well, something… anything. As our country exhibited yet another peaceful transition from one presidential administration to another, the streets of our nation’s capital filled with those ready to use the gathered witnesses as an audience to their own ends. They came alone, in packs, small groups and bus loads. Each self-possessed with their own grievance. There are those who believe our leaders are too religious, and those who believe our leaders are too little religious. Some love pigs. Others love pork. All the “ISTS” were represented – race, sex, fasc, misogyn and too many more to count (indeed, some took terrific liberty with the English language).
Many claimed a constituency. I am here for … the young, the old, labor, business, long-term immigrants, would-be refugees – and countless other factions. Some rose to the attention of the national media – a mechanism to provide backdrop for their own ever-slanting narrative. But most made a bit of noise and then went home.