Today is the National Shutdown — NO WORK. NO SCHOOL. NO SHOPPING.
STOP FUNDING ICE — to protest the federal government’s misdeeds in Minneapolis.
Amidst all the news—or perhaps because of its own internal difficulties—this National Shutdown hasn’t gotten much attention or publicity. I try to keep an eye out for these things, and I only found out when Oscar saw it online yesterday. My first response was, “No, that was in Minneapolis last Friday.” I was out of date; Oscar was right.
Our Fear Not today comes from someone’s reflection on last Friday’s boycott in Minneapolis. Businesses and stores were closed. People didn’t go to work. But they came out strong to protest. I love the palpable hope our witness (below) found in the thousands showing up, marching in such frigid weather. We need to be deliberately looking for “we the people” power—hope—right now.
Unfortunately, I saved their witness, but not the name of its author. I’m guessing it is someone I know, and I figured I’d remember. I don’t. So, with that apology, I’m invoking a literary device and suggesting it’s an everyman / everywoman / every person testimony—an experience that could come from any or many of the people there last Friday. (And if anyone recognizes it, please help me identify the author!)
One last thing: I have been heartened by your responses to this week’s Fear Nots. I’ve heard from folks I haven’t talked to in years, and from some I see each week. Please feel encouraged to write back. May our exchanges be ways we stick together and support one another. (Are there other ways you can be intentionally connective and supportive in these awful times?)
In one response, one of you asked whether I knew about the desecration of the stories of enslaved people at the President’s House on Independence Mall. He was worried that this insult had not gotten as much press as it deserved (like this National Shutdown!). I assured him that the story of Trump’s defacing of Philly’s first President’s House has gotten some traction and is being covered nationally—in part because of the pointed protest responses the public keeps organizing there. Keep up the good work!
One Person’s (…or Many People’s) Experience
Proud.
And hopeful—for the first time in a long time.
Minneapolis, by the thousands, left home, work, and school to trudge together in -7-degree weather. This picture was taken in the skyway (a series of elevated tunnels that connect our downtown buildings).
I’d just sat down in a cement hallway to unzip my boots and check on my toes—once you’ve seen a picture of frostbite, it sticks with you. A passing stranger asked if I needed hand warmers. “No thanks, all set—opening a new pack now.” I joined a little impromptu shaker ensemble as folks around me shook their hand warmers to activate them before shoving them into socks, gloves, or sticking them to their bodies. It felt a little like the warming house at a skating rink—hat hair and red faces—except it was also a coordinated public demonstration to protest the violence and lawlessness of a federal agency.
With my boots back on, I joined a gaggle of people at a window down the hall. The procession passed beneath our feet. All of us marveled at how many we were.
Many signs said ICE OUT. Some had Bible verses. Some taunted Trump. A huge flag just said #Liam.
I’d made my sign (RESIST) on the back of a collapsed beer box. The brewery had provided the box for that very purpose—they’d closed their taproom for the day but turned the space into a donation site for food and household products. While I drew my sign, a steady stream of people dropped off groceries. Some joined a line already sorting cans and bottles; others carried donations to cars outside waiting to deliver them to families too afraid to leave their homes.
Hundreds of businesses closed today—museums, markets, restaurants. Residents here sign up to patrol their neighborhoods and use whistles to announce an ICE sighting.
While it’s not a skill you hope a community has to develop… we’re fucking good at this stuff. After George Floyd’s murder, people learned how to organize pop-up food pantries; how to set up Signal chats for the block; how to figure out who needs what and who might provide it.
I don’t know what sort of coverage today’s march will get in the press. But this afternoon, our team looked formidable.
I bet on us.
Let us thank and give thanks for those tens of thousands of people who braved the cold—and the fear and danger. Last night in prayer group, one of us said, “I think I actually see signs of hope.” Some agreed. Others were noticeably silent. But signs of hope matter. Let’s keep looking for them—desperately.
In faith and courage,
Michael
Rev. Michael Caine is the Senior Pastor at Old First Reformed United Church of Christ.
The views expressed in this editorial letter are not necessarily those of The Neoliberal Corporation or The Neoliberal.