Last week I attended a protest with my sister and thousands of other Burqueños, all marching in support of the people of Minnesota who are fighting back against the occupation of federal agents. This isn’t our first protest, and given the state of the world, it won’t be our last. I brought my dog, Susan in HR, and carried a sign meant to honor the people of Minnesota. On one side it read, “we stand with MN” and on the other, “Look for the Pretti Good Helpers” -Mr. Rogers.

It’s easy to feel alone, frustrated and helpless at the state of the world. I’m inspired by the actions and activism in Minneapolis as they protect their neighbors, their city and their rights. The deaths of Rene Good and Alex Pretti, both helpers that Mr. Rogers would be proud of, have hit me extremely hard. Even harder is seeing people I love try to justify why federal agents murdering people in the streets of our country is okay. To hear them tell me that maybe it’s their fault they were shot makes me question if I know them at all. “They shouldn’t have been there. They should have just complied.”

I’ve been walking around with my heart on my sleeve for weeks now. I can’t speak about any of the unconstitutional actions in Minneapolis without the tears flowing. At the protest a reporter from a local newspaper asked for our names (mine and Susan’s) and asked why I was protesting. The tears once again found themselves on the surface and if found it difficult to speak coherently.

My heart in my throat, I choked out, “to protect my neighbors, because I was raised to do this, and I want to make my kids proud,” the tears coming whether I wanted them to or not. Only the last two comments were published, although, to be fair, it may have been hard to hear my first statement through my emotion and over the chanting of the fellow protesters.

The question she asked was a good one. I’d like to answer a little more thoroughly; in writing this time so you can actually hear my answer through the tears (and yes, there’s always tears).

It’s one question among many that I’ve been thinking about for a while now, even before she asked. Why do I feel compelled to make signs, show up for several hours and protest? What good does it do? Does it actually help?

I do it so they don’t change me

There is a story about a man who during the Vietnam War went and stood in front of the White House and lit a candle. He stood there for the length of time it took the candle to burn down each day, only to do it again the next. A quiet vigil of one. One day a reporter asked him, “do you think doing this will change the government?” The man answered, “I don’t do it to change them. I do it so they don’t change me.”

It’s easy to get overwhelmed and sink into paralysis and despair. There are too many things to do, so many of them are too big for me to attempt. The rest feel too small to make a difference. But nothing big ever happens without a whole bunch of people doing a lot of small things.

This one protest might not make a specific difference to the state of the country, but it does make sure the state of the country doesn’t change me. I can’t let apathy win if I’m actively participating.

Showing up can be scary. Especially the first time. It’s hard to know what to expect. Showing up when the stakes (here in Albuquerque at least) are relatively low, helps my muscle memory. I know where to park, how to create the most comfortable sign to carry, what size the print should be to be legible. Actively using first amendment rights now means it’ll be easier when/if the situation gets harder.

The restorative power in gathering with other people is powerful and healing. When the world feels so divided it helps to be with a bunch of neighbors who are all pushing for the same changes that you are. It helps me not feel so alone.

Does protesting actually help?

Does it actually help? History may argue that nothing else ever has. We won’t know the answer until we’re much closer to the end of the story.

In a liberal democracy (if we can keep it) the government answers to the people, not the other way around. The people telling you to “sit down, be quiet, stay home, just comply, keep your ideas to yourself” don’t want you to use your voice. They know how powerful your voice is when we all lift our voices together.

Like A Bug’s Life taught us, “Ants are not meant to serve grasshoppers, it’s you who needs us!” Flik had been fighting against the grasshoppers and the status quo for the entire movie, mostly alone. But eventually the rest of the colony joins him. He can’t overthrow the tyranny of the grasshoppers alone, but he can keep doing small things until everyone else is brave enough to join him.

So why was I there?

To protect my neighbors

What reaction should I have when I see a woman shot in the street because she was warning her neighbors about impending danger? When I see a man shot in the street because he was helping a woman who’d been shoved to the ground, how can I not want to help?

When I see a little boy in a blue bunny hat, wearing a too-big Spiderman backpack being taken away from his parents how can I not want to help him? When that little boy is put in a camp full of other little boys and girls all of whom are being held in inhumane conditions, separated from their families, their classmates and their friends, how can I think anything in the world is right? How can I not want to protect them? How can anyone not want to step in?

Because I was raised to do this

I live in a neighborhood full of little boys who look just like Liam Conejo Ramos. I don’t know the immigration status of any of my neighbors, but, as Jesus taught (and as I was raised to believe) my neighbor is anyone in need of my help.

Growing up I was taught to be a true follower of Christ I needed to look outside of my “in group” to those who are outsiders or who need assistance, even if my status may be at risk for doing so.

Those are our neighbors as well.

I was raised to help anyone in need. Whether they are a neighbor in Minneapolis or a neighbor on my street, I was raised to stand up for those who being bullied, befriend the friendless and to help whenever and however I can.

I want to make my kids proud

If I’m going to talk the talk, I need to walk the walk. I’ve taught my kids that being involved in politics and having your voice be heard is a responsibility and a privilege. Being informed, voting, attending public meetings, protesting — these are all ways to use that responsibly.

When I was a teenager, I remember my dad canvassing for politicians and ideas he supported. He held precinct meetings in our living room and was a delegate more than once. I watched him actively work to make the politics of our community reflect his values.

I have many memories of my parents bringing cooked meals for people who were sick. They took in children for a few hours, or once even several weeks, to give people a break or a chance to recover from a serious illness. I watched as my parents helped people fix their cars, mowed people’s lawns, shoveled snow, and in many, many ways, were great neighbors and great citizens of their communities.

As their child that makes me proud to know I was raised by good people. I want my kids to see what I do and how I help, not just hear me complain about the state of the world without ever getting to work. But I want them to know they were raised by a good person too so that they continue to carry on that tradition themselves.

The bigger questions

Regardless of which “side” of the political divide people find themselves on there are much bigger questions that I don’t have answers to.

• Why do I see the state of the country in such a different way than half my family?
• How can we watch the same videos and come to such different conclusions?
• How can we have been raised by the same parents, yet have such different political stances?
• Do we still have the same values?
• Will the divide ever be mended?

I wish I knew the answers to any of these questions. What I do know is that even if I’m wrong, I will have shown up in an attempt to make my voice heard and to participate actively in using my first amendment rights. I will have erred on the side of loving and protecting my neighbors, just like I was raised to do.