Lately, I wear my protest like a badge.
I wear it on my jean jacket, on my light winter coat and on my thick down coat. Sometimes I wear it doubly so that when I remove one layer, I am still protesting.
I wear it during daylight and when it’s dark.
I wear it to the gym, to the office, and to order coffee.
I wear it when I play music.
In November, I wore it alongside my poppy.
And Christmas shopping in December.
People either glance at it or they don’t. There are double takes, quick looks, aversion.
I have worn it out and about my neighbourhood: visiting clients, walking the dogs, doing errands.
I put it on knowing it is controversial. Knowing the majority disagrees.
Mindful of my discomfort, I push the marble down my throat and swallow it.
Only one other person out here wears the anti-Loi 21 pin. Unlike me, he is fearless.
Only one person out here has asked me about its significance. She, a 94 year old Auschwitz survivor.
Out here in suburbia, protest is a lonely affair. It is complacent. It is indifferent. It is silent.
bogeyandruby 
I am always moved by the things you write and how clearly and deeply you express yourself in your writing.
I so enjoy reading your blogs and thank you for sharing your thoughts and feelings.
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Thank you, Abby! I really appreciate your kind words of encouragement. Love to you and Mark. ❤️🙏
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This is a power line. Wow.
Mindful of my discomfort, I push the marble down my throat and swallow it.
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Thanks so much, David! I actually borrowed the notion from a motivational speaker I listened to 30 + years ago. He was referring to difficult people and suggested we swallow them like marbles. 😊
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I realize you think the one man who wears his Loi 21 protest is courageous. I think you are too.
My eldest daughter and I had a similar conversation about speaking up when Kobe Bryant died. A friend of hers had posted about the impact of his death and the ensuing outpouring of adulation of the man, on the women he’d abused. My daughter’s friend was publicly vilified on her FB page. My daughter and I both agreed we are as complicit in our silence as those who are vocal in support of something we know is wrong.
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Thank you for the sweet words of encouragement Louise. Growing up, I was occasionally the target of, other times a witness to, racism and discrimination. Being part South Asian and part white, I sometimes pass for white and people say things in front of me that they would never say if they knew my background. Due to fear, I would never call them out, choosing instead to stay silent and blend in. How I regret that silence! I am making up for it somewhat now but there are still times when fear paralyzes and my heart is in my throat. 🙏❤️
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