Last Sunday, at the Writers Resist Philadelphia event, I was reminded of the power of words to create history. Where would the American Revolution have been without the pamphlets of Thomas Paine? Where would the Civil Rights Movement have been without the speeches of Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr.? Where would the larger cultural movement of the 1960s have been without the protest songs that still resonate today?
I was reminded of the power that writers have to encapsulate their time. To take a snapshot of history. To speak of hidden truths. To remake the world.
On Sunday in Philadelphia, we remembered and relived the past so that we could envision the future. We came together, writers and freedom lovers—men and women and children, people who are white and black and Hispanic and Asian and somewhere in between. Our gathering felt not so much like a protest but—if I may coin the term—a Remembrance. A day to remind ourselves what our country is, a reminder of the freedoms that we are all guaranteed, a reminder that there is an America worth fighting for that has nothing to do with Democrats and Republicans, conservatives and liberals, and has everything to do with the rights of every one of us to enjoy the promises listed in the Constitution.
We heard words from men and women, black and white, Jewish and Arabic, disabled and gay, Native and immigrant—all the voices blending together to tell a story that is uniquely American. The voices were many and varied, yet they all spoke of the one thing that unites us all—our Humanity.
We in America have been blessed for the last 240 years to have freedoms not often seen anywhere else in the world, to have them written into our Constitution and given to us as a birthright. On Sunday, we remembered how lucky we are, and we reminded everyone who heard those words that we have come far—but we still have such a long way to go.
We reminded ourselves why we speak, why the words of these people still matter—because these are precious rights, and we in America have often taken them for granted. We cannot be complacent, because there are always those who would take those rights from us if we let them—and we must not let them.
On Sunday, we marked the progress of our journey toward equality, but it has taken such a long, long time to get here. We have traveled a great distance, but we are nowhere near the end of the road. We cannot—we will not—sit back and lose the progress we’ve made.
We were reminded that We The People are the power in America—and that means all people. We must not allow political demagogues and media pundits to define who we are as Americans. Anyone who lived through the horror of 9/11 will remember what it meant to be American first—without party, without ethnicity, without race. On that day, we were Americans—united in spirit, in purpose. Together we rose from the ashes of the Twin Towers.
Throughout history, writers have spoken truth to power. On Sunday in Philadelphia, we reaffirmed our commitment to continue to do just that. On that day we reminded America how hard the road to this mile marker in time has been—and how unforgivable it would be to betray all the blood, tears, and suffering it took to get here.
On Sunday, Writers Resist Philadelphia made a promise to all Americans:
The voice of America will not be shouted down in a press conference or kicked out of the White House. The writers of America are watching. We will speak. We will not be silenced.
Thoughts Inspired by Writers Resist Philadelphia
I was reminded of the power that writers have to encapsulate their time. To take a snapshot of history. To speak of hidden truths. To remake the world.
On Sunday in Philadelphia, we remembered and relived the past so that we could envision the future. We came together, writers and freedom lovers—men and women and children, people who are white and black and Hispanic and Asian and somewhere in between. Our gathering felt not so much like a protest but—if I may coin the term—a Remembrance. A day to remind ourselves what our country is, a reminder of the freedoms that we are all guaranteed, a reminder that there is an America worth fighting for that has nothing to do with Democrats and Republicans, conservatives and liberals, and has everything to do with the rights of every one of us to enjoy the promises listed in the Constitution.
We heard words from men and women, black and white, Jewish and Arabic, disabled and gay, Native and immigrant—all the voices blending together to tell a story that is uniquely American. The voices were many and varied, yet they all spoke of the one thing that unites us all—our Humanity.
We in America have been blessed for the last 240 years to have freedoms not often seen anywhere else in the world, to have them written into our Constitution and given to us as a birthright. On Sunday, we remembered how lucky we are, and we reminded everyone who heard those words that we have come far—but we still have such a long way to go.
On Sunday, we marked the progress of our journey toward equality, but it has taken such a long, long time to get here. We have traveled a great distance, but we are nowhere near the end of the road. We cannot—we will not—sit back and lose the progress we’ve made.
We were reminded that We The People are the power in America—and that means all people. We must not allow political demagogues and media pundits to define who we are as Americans. Anyone who lived through the horror of 9/11 will remember what it meant to be American first—without party, without ethnicity, without race. On that day, we were Americans—united in spirit, in purpose. Together we rose from the ashes of the Twin Towers.
Throughout history, writers have spoken truth to power. On Sunday in Philadelphia, we reaffirmed our commitment to continue to do just that. On that day we reminded America how hard the road to this mile marker in time has been—and how unforgivable it would be to betray all the blood, tears, and suffering it took to get here.
On Sunday, Writers Resist Philadelphia made a promise to all Americans:
The voice of America will not be shouted down in a press conference or kicked out of the White House. The writers of America are watching. We will speak. We will not be silenced.
And we are legion.
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