Sons of Liberty

September 10, 2020

Cambridge, MA

A chilly drizzle sprinkles discomfort over our Black Lives Matter evening vigil. The number of people taking a knee since late May has shriveled to five. My meditation wanders from the horror of Officer Derek Chauvin’s knee pinching George Floyd’s neck to whether — or why — we should keep this going. Gone are the halcyon summer days with dozens of kneelers, a parade of encouraging car horns, accolades from people of color, spontaneous applause. Summer’s collective energy has morphed into quiet persistence. The few souls who remain have incorporated 8:46 of public silence into our daily routine.

Our vigil might be the smallest in the Boston area, but it also might be the longest lasting. We bear witness every night. Because keeping injustice in the public eye is one small compass point in the spectrum of change. We don’t know which passersby we might influence. We are not supposed to know. We witness because it is the right thing for us to do. For our own fortitude. And because we trust that seeds of change germinate from bearing witness.

An elderly couple, a female couple, and me. All regulars. Not exactly friends, though each night our after-vigil conversations (masked and socially distanced) grow longer, more personal. During a pandemic in which prudence requires we remain apart from most everyone, I…