The last time I was at a political rally was in 1968 in downtown Chicago to protest the Vietnam War.
By the time I was 18, nine of my friends had died fighting for their country. Mass causalities stood at 16,899 and were climbing. The Tet Offensive, along with the assassination of Martin Luther King Jr., and mass civil unrest were all factors in my decision to march south from Lincoln Park to Grant Park, arm in arm with friends and strangers.
My long flowing hair, held in place by a blue and white bandanna, touched the middle of my back. I wore a string of green and yellow beads around my neck and a short red and white summer dress. Before I left the house, I pinned a single daisy into my hair.
We positioned ourselves on the front lines and began chanting “No more war” and “Peace now!” I watched hundreds of policemen with looks of disgust on their faces, armed with billy clubs and guns, ready to start a battle within their own city. They were not unlike my father, who was a colonel in the Illinois National Guard, and my brother, who had safely enlisted but never set foot on foreign soil — both lacking empathy for the cause.
I had taken a train into the city from Lincolnwood, where I grew up, intending to peacefully protest with similar-minded people. I never expected the crowds, camaraderie or the reckless chaos that ensued.
While I was taking in the hugeness of it all, a young man chanting “kill the pigs” a few feet from me threw a rock at a policeman and that’s when it all began. The police and National Guard, who were waiting as backup, began charging at us, dispersing tear gas and waving their clubs wildly in the air. It was difficult to leave, mainly because my eyes were tearing and burning, causing me to stumble and fall. I covered my face, shielding myself from the mayhem, and began shouting in sync “the whole world’s watching” before I took off running, afraid to look back.
I heard screams from my fellow protesters that haunted me for months. If I close my eyes and concentrate on that August summer evening, I still hear the agonizing moans from the crowd as they tried to fight off unruly soldiers and out-of-control police.
There were thousands of protesters. The results: one civilian death, injuries to more than 500, 668 arrested, more than 100 civilians injured, along with 152 officers. I came out physically unscathed, except for a short-lived coughing spell. One of the luckier ones.
I arrived home later that evening where I joined my family as they watched demonstrators on the news and taunted protesters as “un-American.” My father turned to me waving his forefinger in the air saying, “I better never see you doing something as unpatriotic as this. Look at those stupid kids! They should be applauding the war, not opposing it.”
I looked at him smugly, knowing I’d never tell him about my part in the demonstration.
Another deep political divide
In 2024, I find myself, once again, tired of the political division and discourse that is being played. Some politicians are trying to force us into a deep divide rather than allowing both sides to work together for a better America.
Our policy with current wars is mostly diplomatic, rather than boots on the ground. We are not drafting young men to be killed on a battlefield, nor are we getting too involved in another country’s conflict. We are watching our presidential race unfold, like we did in 2016 and 2020. It’s now a challenge for our planet’s survival, a battle for fair elections and an existential fight for democracy.
I’m on standby, ready to rally, protest atrocities on all sides, and show the public my disgust for separatism, racism, antisemitism, sexism, nationalism, extremism, elitism, xenophobia and self-serving politicians who believe they’re above the law — the ones spouting lies and spewing hate, ones who are radically bigoted with no regard for the future of mankind.
I say “enough.” It’s time to be proactive and positive with peaceful demonstrations. I’m primed, eager and stoked to march once again in Chicago during the 2024 Democratic National Convention. This time I’ll be prepared, wearing full gear: helmet with shield, bullet-proof vest, steel-toed boots and motorcycle gauntlets.
This protest will be different from my last one 56 years ago. My father will be standing beside me in spirit. I believe we’d be on the same page (finally) on our political choices. He’d hold a sign touting “Harris/Walz for 2024.” We will link arms in solidarity and let “big government” know we aren’t going to take it anymore.
I’m pro-Israel, pro-Palestinian and pro-Ukraine, where my grandparents and their parents lived. I’m for peace and freedom — I’m an American.
Terry Ratner is a writer, essayist, journalist, editor and registered nurse who grew up in Chicago. She is working on a memoir.
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