On the March

Yesterday, in the midst of a would-be rush hour, Seattle bore witness to one of the largest marches the city has seen in many years.

Seattlest watched from our office as police hit the streets, roads were blocked, and busses and other downtown traffic slowed to a desperate crawl. According to reports, this march was to be larger than the last one, but it was tough to say. Either way, it was big, and the vibes were upbeat -- mostly.

We were familiar with the overall message of the march and the rally that followed, but Seattlest wanted to actually get in there and talk to some folks. We asked men and women why they had come, and what their greatest concerns were regarding the pending immigration reform bill, currently marinating in Congress.

Some understood only a little of what we said, and thusly, pointed to the sign they held high, or to the child in the stroller ahead of them. For those who spoke English, the answers varied. From repeating the slogans to us that they’d been yelling for thirty-plus blocks: “I am not a criminal!” and “My family deserves respect!” – to more personal answers: “Some of my family is legal. Some are not. I don’t want to be split up.” and “I worry for my children. They deserve to live as anyone else.”

We asked an idle police officer if there’d been any problems, to which he flatly replied, “No.” Thus, failing to mention the car that hit a group of demonstrators as they marched downtown (no serious injuries).

We watched a somber woman walk by with a small wooden cross, on which the words, “1,113 unidentified bodies,” was etched. We asked her about it.

“Ma’am?” She looked at us warily. “Do you speak English?”
“A little.”
“Can you tell us about the cross?”
“From the border.”
“You mean, those who’ve died trying to cross into the U.S.?”
“Yes.”
“Thank you ma’am.”
She offered a smile then that lit up the rest of our evening.

What we wish we hadn’t seen:
A woman standing on the sidewalk, screaming, “If you don’t like it, fucking go home! Go back to Mexico!”
An officer quickly escorted the delightful woman away from the crowd. We smiled, waved goodbye. She flipped us off.