Thoughts on Nashville's Vigil for Peace

Last night was such a powerful moment for me - walking, talking, and chanting with people from across Nashville. Today... I read the comments sections of the articles about that same powerful event and they were filled with hate and anger and racism. But, I'm going to remain hopeful that the people there last night (and more) will carry those sentiments back to their local governments and their neighbors. Was there controlled anger? Yes. Was there palpable frustration? Yes. But there was also a focus on specific legislation and actions that we as US citizens should take to move toward a level playing ground and a fairer justice system. Last night was not anger for anger's sake. There was no violence. There were no arrests. People were exercising their rights to free speech and assembly. And, yes, there were police officers there who kept their distance and allowed us to say the things we needed to say. (To quote one officer: You have to let the people do what they need to do.) When the vigil became a somewhat spontaneous march, the police and the organizers very quickly worked together to make sure that everyone would be as safe as possible - from the police station to Broadway to our walk down James Robertson, arm and arm across Victory Memorial Bridge. If you were inconvenienced - I'm not particularly sorry. There are entire entire sections of our population that are "inconvenienced", demoralized, and disenfranchised every day of their lives. As we walked and chanted, there was a young boy behind us (maybe 7 or 8 years old) who was also chanting, "Hands up! Don't shoot!" Jenny Davis and I looked at one another and could not hold back the tears thinking about what that really means for him and how the march was almost a luxury to us compared to him. But as we sat and lay in the intersection of Commerce and 5th for 4.5 minutes, I felt sorrow and I felt that we had collective power. To quote Maya Angelou (yes, I can hardly believe it either): "You should be angry. You must not be bitter. Bitterness is like cancer. It eats upon the host. It doesn’t do anything to the object of its displeasure. So use that anger. You write it. You paint it. You dance it. You march it. You vote it. You do everything about it. You talk it. Never stop talking it." There were signs last night that read: This is Bigger Than Mike Brown. I don't want to take away from the Brown family's loss, but I hope you can see that is true. Because the folks in the comments section can't. Please, prove them wrong. Please never stop talking it.