The people, united by a history of protest

On a frigid day in January, a convoy of eighteen-wheeler trucks rumbled to a stop in Ottawa. This arrival marked the beginning of what participants dubbed the “Freedom Convoy”: an assembly of over-the-road truck drivers who converged from across Canada to oppose Coronavirus vaccine mandates in the trucking industry. The next day, thousands of people swarmed Parliament Hill, many of whom were not actually involved in the trucking industry at all — they were simply disgruntled members of the public who opposed vaccine mandates in general. The month of demonstrations that followed would see the protesters cause a 6-day blockade of the busiest border crossing between the United States and Canada, the declaration of a state of emergency in Ottawa by the mayor, the resignation of the city’s police chief, and over 100 arrests as the demonstrations were finally shut down by authorities. Iowa residents who sympathized with the cause donated over $19,000 to an online fundraiser titled “Freedom Convoy 2022.”

Across the globe, protests have erupted over vaccine mandates and shutdowns related to the coronavirus pandemic. New Zealand, France, South Africa, and many other countries have seen demonstrations. In Belgium, police fired water cannons and tear gas at 50,000 people on the streets of Brussels. Although perhaps the most visible, COVID isn’t the only issue causing people to hit the streets in recent weeks. Muslim students in India are protesting a ban on wearing hijab in public colleges, hundreds in Serbia are blockading roads to protest lithium mining, and a Portland protest against police brutality on Feb. 19 ended in a local homeowner and Kyle Rittenhouse enthusiast being charged with murder after firing his gun into a crowd of demonstrators, killing one and injuring 4 others.

In fact, our great nation has a long history of protests: the Pride marches that followed Stonewall, the Million Man March that descended upon Washington, D.C. in 1995, the 1911 Triangle Shirt Factory workers demanded a safer workplace after a massive fire that killed over 140 employees locked in a New York sweatshop.

One demonstration in particular is widely unknown, but topically relevant during Black History Month and directly following the Superbowl — the story of David Showell. Mr. Showell, a World War II combat veteran, Tuskegee Airman, and running back for Pennsylvania’s Lafayette College, was the subject of controversy in 1948 when the Sun Bowl committee invited his team to play — without him. As one of only two Black students at the school, and considering the times, a person could be forgiven for envisioning a tragic ending to this story. However, rather than accepting the first Bowl invitation in college history, Lafayette turned the El Paso Sun Bowl down.

What followed was incredible — rather than voicing disappointment in their school for backing their Black classmate, the student body marched into the streets of Easton Pennsylvania in support of David Showell. The group invaded a local radio station and sent telegrams to President Truman and a journalist, then called a full-campus meeting the next day where just under 1,000 students passed an anti-discrimination resolution. All of this transpired 7 years prior to 15-year-old Claudette Colvin’s arrest for violating segregation laws by refusing to give up her seat on a public bus.

Although Lafayette College never went to a bowl game, over time other schools who had previously complied with the exclusion of their Black players at southern bowl games followed suit and refused to bench their student athletes. The school’s refusal to allow someone else to discriminate against their student lost them a bowl game and won them a place in the battle for equity in this country.

At its core, that has always been the nature of protest. There are risks involved, sacrifices to be made. Even at a peaceful protest, sometimes people are injured or killed. We all have to decide whether the cause that inspires us to add our voice to the throng is worthy of the consequences. For many, the drive to demonstrate is rooted in inequality and oppression. For others, it is an aversion to public health measures like the COVID vaccines that may save their own life or the lives of others. For the moment, the latter seems to be the louder.

Sofia DeMartino is a Gazette editorial fellow. Comments: sofia.demartino@thegazette.com