This weekend in Baltimore my daughter and I marched with the Johns Hopkins Pride float for a second year. We enjoyed the Wyman Park Pride festivities, then headed to the No Kings rally at Patterson Park. It was a long day for my aging body as it prepares to undergo spinal surgery, but I was ready with muscle relaxers, weed, caffeine and adrenaline. As the official event planner and organizer, my daughter brought a backpack with goggles, gas masks, first aid, snacks, water and sunscreen. If there’s a point where the Girl Scout fills her mom’s former role as Girl Scout leader, we’ve officially reached it.
The Pride march was glorious. The Baltimore Banner covers the city in a vibrant way and was on hand capturing celebratory rainbows, music and cheering. Answers to the question “Is Baltimore gay?” were a resounding “hella gay!” as drag queens presided over the only acceptable monarchy any American city seemed willing to accept on No Kings day. At the spot on Charles St. where we were lined up, I watched as a community member painted “gays used to dance here.” I later learned it was a queer-friendly club called The Crown, closed last year, described as a space “that not only allowed all sorts to come through and dance, sing and perform freely, but it was a space that queer/bipoc crowds could thrive for a night. The Crown was a light.” Baltimore Pride was joyous— nothing but cheers, music, dick straws in pina coladas while line dancing, and a fun celebration of community. I couldn’t find a shred of hate or bullshit.
We headed over from Wyman to Patterson Park for the start of the No Kings rally and march. The American Civil Liberties Union, a part of the coalition that put on the demonstrations, reported that more than five million people participated in over 2100 rallies and protests across the U.S.
This Baltimore event was organized, peaceful, and had an air of solemnity about it as 5,000 citizens gathered at the historic Patterson Park observatory for speeches and a rally followed by a march around the park. I was struck by the number of elderly citizens in attendance. Some of the less mobile brought lawn chairs; their decorated signs in front of them. Some gave out water bottles. One man walked a little more slowly, with his cane. As we drove across town I saw one couple in front of their high-rise apartment building: maybe they couldn’t make it to the march, but they sat on the bench holding up their handmade signs, supporting the cause. There was a common expression on the faces of the elderly that contrasted with the enthusiasm of the younger marchers. This isn’t fun and games, and isn’t their first time: they’ve marched for civil rights before, and this time the democracy is at stake. They hoped not to have to do this again in their lifetimes. But they showed up, and marched once again for what they believe is important.
America isn’t about kings. More than five million people at 2100 protests in the country showed up on Saturday; not in DC for a bullshit birthday parade for Trump, but for their First Amendment right to free speech. More than five million people, and all who weren’t counted like the couple on the bench, showed up because we care about this democracy.