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feet back, and I think they said there were a thousand people there, so most people didn’t actually hear what was being said. Then we walked through downtown on Central Street and Main Street, and Bangor PD shut off the streets—police were there. They closed down the roads so that we could walk through downtown. And then we met at another park right by the Bangor Police Department, where there was a choir singing. And there was a moment of silence and then there was one point where everyone white in the crowd took a knee. For once in Bangor, I saw—you could clearly identify, here are all the people of color, so that was kind of unique and powerful. TRISTAN TAYLOR, 37 DETROIT On May 29th, I think it was a Friday, it was the first rally. I almost didn’t go because this was when I was technically cleared to get out of the quarantine, but I was wanting to be extra cautious and someone was like, “Well, as long as you have your mask and stuff, you’re good, and besides you’re out of the range. So we know that you’re no longer contagious.” And it was funny because we wrote a statement—Detroit Renter City—that we wanted to pass out. And we were saying to ourselves, “Well, how many copies do you think we need?” And I’m like, you know, “A couple of hundred would be good,” because I was like, I don’t want to make more than what we need, because who knows how many people are going to come out. So we get there, and it’s like a fucking sea of people. Thousands. Well, clearly, we needed more than just a couple of hundred. And I remember going to Kinko’s and making the copies and seeing a friend, a longtime organizer who also does stuff around housing justice, making copies as well. At a certain point, the rally begins. The rally, by the way, begins inside the parking lot of Detroit Police Department headquarters. A section of the crowd started to leave because they couldn’t hear. And as is the case with these big crowds, they’re there to take action, they’re not necessarily there to be an audience, in the sense where they are just there to listen. And so a huge section of people started to make their way down the street, Michigan 33
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Avenue, and the rest of the people stayed for the rest of the rally. I’m actually the last speaker at the rally. You know, I’m just like, “Let me keep this short because people came in to march and we should march. And if we’re serious we should use this moment to be just the beginning.” We marched a long-ass time. It was exciting—it was like the energy just won’t fucking quit there. So at the end of the march, we do open mics so that people can say stuff, and people just don’t want to go home. And I’m like, “Oh, okay, well, I guess we’re gonna march some more—but also, what are we doing for the future?” And people were like, “We want to show up tomorrow.” And so tomorrow they did show up, and the next day and the next day and the next day after that. [EARLY DAYS] EMILY WOLFENBARGER, 38 KNOXVILLE, TENNESSEE It was a really, really hot day. I remember that because a few people got heat stroke and it was early on, at least in Tennessee, where masking was becoming more common. We walked about two and a half miles from the civic center to the courthouse downtown in Maryville. And one of the big things I remember is just wearing a mask in that amount of heat was physically difficult. My parents were really active with the pro-life movement in the late Eighties and early Nineties. And they both protested full-time for a couple of years there. So I kind of grew up on the picket lines, holding signs and making marches and whatnot. But not as an adult. It’s not something I ever chose for myself since I was just a child. And since Trump was elected I hadn’t read hardly a headline. Then, with COVID, I started feeling like I needed to have a sense of what was going on nationally and globally. So I started plugging back in and listening to what was going on in current events and kind of just trying to become more active and get my bearings again. And then, the week of George Floyd’s death was a real pivot point for me to 34

Avenue, and the rest of the people stayed for the rest of the rally. I’m actually the last speaker at the rally. You know, I’m just like, “Let me keep this short because people came in to march and we should march. And if we’re serious we should use this moment to be just the beginning.”

We marched a long-ass time. It was exciting—it was like the energy just won’t fucking quit there. So at the end of the march, we do open mics so that people can say stuff, and people just don’t want to go home. And I’m like, “Oh, okay, well, I guess we’re gonna march some more—but also, what are we doing for the future?” And people were like, “We want to show up tomorrow.” And so tomorrow they did show up, and the next day and the next day and the next day after that.

[EARLY DAYS]

EMILY WOLFENBARGER, 38

KNOXVILLE, TENNESSEE

It was a really, really hot day. I remember that because a few people got heat stroke and it was early on, at least in Tennessee, where masking was becoming more common. We walked about two and a half miles from the civic center to the courthouse downtown in Maryville. And one of the big things I remember is just wearing a mask in that amount of heat was physically difficult.

My parents were really active with the pro-life movement in the late Eighties and early Nineties. And they both protested full-time for a couple of years there. So I kind of grew up on the picket lines, holding signs and making marches and whatnot. But not as an adult. It’s not something I ever chose for myself since I was just a child. And since Trump was elected I hadn’t read hardly a headline. Then, with COVID, I started feeling like I needed to have a sense of what was going on nationally and globally. So I started plugging back in and listening to what was going on in current events and kind of just trying to become more active and get my bearings again. And then, the week of George Floyd’s death was a real pivot point for me to

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