Maybe it was the jet lag, as I just got back to DC a few days ago - I have to admit when I first got to the Mall I was not convinced. Would this be the day we showed up, proved we were serious?

As people trickled in and sort of stood around, it was tempting to be a little preemptively deflated. The speakers kicked off somewhere over a hill. Kind of hard to hear and impossible to see. I was really tired and still in ‘oh look, Americans’ mode after so long abroad.

I don’t even like shooting demonstrations. I don’t like crowds and protests are usually a hot mess photographically. But this is part of what I came back for, to at least be present and do what I can. I decided part of what I can do is sort of diagnostic. As I got a little more tuned in, it was clear there was deep emotion, even trauma, just under the surface. One man passed a priest, started to say something about how we’re all together, and began weeping after just a few words. I didn’t take a photo, just noticed.

Later, on one end of the monument grounds a walkway became a kind of gauntlet, with people lining the low walls on both sides forming a channel for those passing through. The energy built and built, with drums and chants. It wasn’t performative or self-conscious as these things can sometimes be, more of a genuine release of pent-up feelings.

Not just anger and a certain stoicism but joy and camaraderie. Solidarity.

I’m writing this at 5am (damn jet lag) so I can get my Sunday post out on time this morning. Trying to hit publish before I fade again. Hope you’ll think of it like checking the newspaper to see how the demo went. And, like me, you’ll feel a little better about where we are.

In the end I was convinced. I believed in these Americans.